Claudia Winkleman: Take It From Me

Ha-ha. Brilliant. Just when you think the papers are full of stuff that's quite tricky to write a column about because it's too scary (Austria, Zimbabwe, Burma), or too dull (Charlotte Church would like to remind all new mothers of the importance of breastfeeding. YES, WE KNOW) – the story, the titbit if you will, of the year comes along and saves the day.

Sure, I almost wrote about Cherie Blair forgetting her contraception on a trip to see the Queen where she conceived her fourth child, Leo. My point, if I had one at all, was that I was quite disappointed she hadn't named her baby after the place he was created, as others have done. Brooklyn. Paris. Balmoral. Little Balmoral Blair – it would have been so perfect.

Then there's the story of Jennifer Aniston and John Mayer. I would have spent 700 words whanging on about how happy I am that she's found love and that she deserves a nice guy after the whole Brad-dumping-her-so-publicly thing and that it would be extra nice to see her settle down etc. etc. but I have to be completely frank – the main thrust would be about how amazing she looks in a bikini.

Now, if there's one person on earth she wants to annoy, it's Angelina Jolie. Angie is currently pregnant (supposedly with twins) and has the ankles the size of Mini Coopers. Jen can't bother her simply by going out for supper with a super-sexy boy – she has to be photographed in a wafer-thin, pale pink, barely-there bikini just to drive the bloated husband-stealer mad. Job done.

Then I was tempted to write about the bloke who poked a shark in the eye. But that would have been interesting for about one paragraph. (Sorry, my mistake. Not even that.)

So just as I was about to give up I spotted the following headline: "Heidi Klum gives Victoria Beckham a year's supply of cupcakes for her birthday."

Ha. Ha. Ha. That is so completely genius, and on so many levels.

Mainly, it shows Victoria (who will still be shocked and mortified) that however great she thinks she looks, other people think she's too thin. I mean, Heidi, who is worth something along the lines of $20m, could have bought her:

a) a cashmere throw;

b) a book (sorry, scrap that);

c) a jigsaw puzzle (shit, see above);

d) a goldfish.

There are all kinds of presents Victoria could have coped with. But cupcakes. Wow. That's below the belt. Yes, when you go round to a friend's place, taking chocolates or some biscuits is a lovely thing. My oldest friend, Vicky, would be alarmed if I turned up at hers without a box of Matchmakers or a stash of Magnum Minis. That's what we do – chat and snack and mainly chat again.

But this present is the gift that keeps on giving. These sugar-coated, fat-laden babies come every single week. Yes, so after Victoria has faked the "Wow, isn't the icing so creamy – come over here, David, and try one of these – they're scrummy, I want to eat these all the time. Hey, Katie, put little Tom down and get one of these down you" on her birthday, she will now have to deal with being in close proximity to delicious cupcakes every day for the next 364 days.

Victoria only recently admitted to consuming the following in a single day: edamame beans; seaweed juice (I mean, Jesus. We all want to be slim, but that's just taking it one step too far); and she has strawberries or a few frozen grapes for a special treat. She is surrounded by no-cal produce, and that's the way she likes it. Now it's all changed – the most fattening food on the face of this earth is being brought to her house every Friday at 3pm. Picture the scene...

3:01pm: Ding-dong.

Domestic staff member one: Uh. Miss. Uh. Laydeee. Mrs Posh. Is doorbell.

Victoria: That's great. I'm going upstairs to hide in the closet.

Domestic staff member one: I get door.

Victoria: And throw them in the bin.

Domestic staff member one: You no want to taste?

Victoria: Uh, definitely not. I'll have a raisin in my room. I'm going to put on my size-zero jeans and I don't want to know the details of what's in the box.

Domestic staff member two: Bell is ringing. Shall I open door?

Victoria: We're dealing with it.

Domestic staff member one: Open door and throw in bin.

Victoria: Correct.

Romeo: Mum, can I have cake?

Victoria: Sure. Yes. Little Romeo can have some.

Romeo: Can you sit with me, Mum? And tell me the story of when the Spice Girls were big?

Victoria (sweating): I can't see it.

Domestic staff member two: Is it ghost?

Victoria: No, I mean the cake. I can't see the cakes.

Romeo: Can I have the chocolate one?

Victoria: I will take deep breaths. And I will call Geri. Geri will know what to do...

Domestic staff member two: He still ringing. I open door.

Happy bakery man: Good afternoon, y'all. Today we have a strawberry-iced, vanilla-laced cupcake and a lemon-yellow cream cheese icing on a carrot-and-ginger-swirl cupcake, and we have the usual "death by chocolate" that includes white chocolate chips and honeycomb crunch.

Victoria: I don't think I can breathe.

Happy bakery man: See you next week, ma'am.

Heidi, you take the biscuit. (And the cupcake.)

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