According to a French magazine Brigitte Nielson, the busty-ex of Hollywood hardman Sylvester Stallone, has been paid one million dollars to sleep with a super-rich Arab Prince.

One million dollars.

An Arab Prince.

I had been feeling unbearably smug about my first shag for weeks. But suddenly the kebab, two lagers and packet of John Player Specials that the 16-year-old behind the bar gave me seems a little inadequate for his partaking of my charms.

The answer phone has been firmly snapped to On. His offer of a Chinese takeaway as soon as heÆs finished his homework is going sternly unheeded.

Brigitte was denying the whole thing of course through that most reliable of organs, The Sun. But frankly I canÆt seen whatÆs sheÆs getting so hot under the collar about.

Nobody begrudged Demi Moore the rather nice frock and shag she got off Robert Redford in the movie Indecent Proposal, when she accepted the one million dollar price tag for a shag.

LetÆs face it Brigitte sweetie. You may have screwed a rather famous Hollywood short-arse, but youÆre a mother of four now. On the bits that arenÆt plastic you must have acres of stretch marks. Nobody going to hold a one night stand with a rich Prince against you. Especially if he paid you one million smackers for the privilege.

Mr Aitkins, is the ex-Tory Minister and shining example of pratdom who took a spectacular fall from grace this week as he found himself owing ú2m to the courts, losing his reputation, his marriage, and facing a charge of perjury to boot after lying to the newspapers, his family, the courts and the world in general.

Daft really. After all the whole mess was over the simple matter of who picked up the hotel bill (never a problem I suspect for Miss Nielsen to work out). Aitkin, armed with his so-called æsimple sword of truthÆ was trying to sue The Guardian for a story it ran years ago.

Trouble is, the little wanker had claimed his blonde wife Lolicia had picked up the tab, when, as BA records helpfully pointed out, she wasnÆt even in the country.

Still the whole thing may have been a convoluted attempt to persuade his winsome wife to take a hike.

After all Mr Aitkin is said to have had it recently drawn to his attention that his alarming looking mistress Paula Strudwick was in fact, an sado-masochism expert. Something that Mr Aitkin had inexplicably failed to cotton on to in two years of sleeping with the old girl.

Good idea really. Always wise to stick to the subjects you know about, and Ms Widdecombe is by her own admission æugly, overweight and with crooked teethÆ. Never something that stopped Bill Clinton but heck, Ms. Widdecombe clearly understands her limitation with the opposite sex.

She was once, rather famously described by Ms Currie, as the Commons equivalent of a cold shower. A male hero in one of Ms CurrieÆs ænovelsÆ decided to cool his ardour by æsharing a crab paste sandwich with Anne Widdecombe.Æ Something I suspect most blokes would need more than $1 million to get a hard on about.

No, Ms Widdecombe, poor sweetie, has decided that her literary gift to the nation will be a novel about euthanasia.

The poor love just doesnÆt get it does she? The whole point about these MP bonkbusters is not that any of them can write, but that they may just reveal what exactly is being hitched up and by whom or what in the corridors of power.