An exhibition of `Hello!' covers heralds the beginning of a new art movement. By David Lister

I was over the moon when I heard the Duchess of York speak out about Princess Beatrice's diet. Sarah knows you can't sweep food under the carpet. I have been telling her as much ever since Beatrice was born. Indeed, our discussions led me to write my best-selling Problem Eating: Towards a Thinner Child.

As all the world knows, the Duchess of York has signed a lucrative deal with Weight Watchers in the US for a reported fee of $1m. More controversially, she says she has tried out many of their ideas on her "chunky" eight- year-old daughter Beatrice, instructing her to cut out bread, chips and fizzy drinks.

Chat-show queen RUBY WAX talks with James Rampton

It is not easy to capture the wit of the singer Jarvis Cocker in wax - or any other part of him for that matter. But the sculptors are giving it their best shot.

The Duchess of York was one; Imelda Marcos was another while Paula Hamilton, the model and former Volkswagen girl, transformed herself into one and says it saved her life. They are shopaholics, women addicted to the act of shopping who find in conspicuous consumption the satisfaction denied to them in their personal and professional lives.

An Archers addict paid pounds 575 for the original 78rpm recording of the radio programme's theme tune. Hopeful fans packed a small auction room at Phillips in London. The successful bidder's identity is secret.

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No woman in British history has been given quite such an unremittingly bad press as the Duchess of York. But still she comes back for more - though she claims she's `older and wiser' than she used to be

In view of the tide of vandalism and wanton destruction which sadly afflicts our nation, I feel obliged to describe one example which took place on London's South Bank last week. It was a peculiar incident, since the miscreant was quickly tracked down but, thankfully, no arrest was made. I say "thankfully" because the perpetrator was none other than your columnar chum, The Weasel. It happened like this. I had arranged to meet a crony in a Waterloo wine bar close to the river. Occupying a niche under one of the railway arches, it is a modern, glass-walled establishment. Unfortunately, as I marched towards the entrance, I looked up to see if my friend had already arrived. With the first drink of the day in prospect, I was going at a fair rate of knots. For some reason, it was my left knee which first made contact with one of the glass doors. There was a tremendous bang, but no harm done. My knee was quite unhurt, so I smiled inanely and gave a while-appreciating-the-aesthetic-purity-of-glass-it-does-have-certain- disadvantages kind of shrug in the direction of the surprised patrons.

"I'm playing an upper-class twat, a real silly git," laughs Rupert Graves. "It's typecasting." Graves is appearing in the forthcoming film of Alan Ayckbourn's Revengers' Comedies.

Here is a family that makes marriage so miserable that the Duchess of York and Diana would rather be Royal outcasts

The foreigners ignored it; the British deplored it. Newsy Bunny gave it the thumbs-up but few others found a kind word.

Guy Hodgson looks ahead to a day of local difficulties in the Premiership