From the Desk of:

Secrets of Tabloid Reporters
Exclusively by Ritchie Coote

So you finally made it to the A-List. Congratulations. All that hard work and perseverance and hard choices about what to wear has finally paid off. There can't possibly be anything to ruin your high since this celebrity gig is completely without down side.

Wrong.

When you sign up for fame and fortune and being a household name you have to pay the price of STAYING a house hold name. magazine articles praising everything you do and wear is only interesting if you're one of two things: New, and therefore still interesting; Genuinely the sweetest person to be born to Earth, this is very rare and I don't think I've seen someone like this since 1972.

For the rest of you who should be old hats at this or who bypassed Newly Interesting in third year. Suck it up.

Megan - no, you aren't pregnant. We all know this. Does that mean we don't get a vindictive pleasure in seeing you look less than svelte? Course not. Your fans either REALLY REALLY want you to reproduce or REALLY REALLY want to see you aren't perfect. Laugh it off and get over it.

Warrington - you have a life, congratulations. Who doesn't drink and sleep with blondes? Seriously? Stop overreacting, comment that she wasn't complaining, and for Merlin's sake strive to be more interesting yourself if you don't want people digging through your rubbish bin to find proof that you aren't boring. You're a Slytherin. They're never boring. If the public wants boring they'll be fans of a Hufflepuff.

Lavender - yeah, that was pretty shitty. But commenting about it just makes people believe it. Ignore it, roll your eyes when asked, and if there's no reaction they'll eventually drop it.

Trust me people! I write this shite, I know what tabloid reporters want and your reactions here are like giving this bird gold stars and double thumbs up. Either take the bad with the good or find a new career.

So there's apparently this scandal, right? One Seeker who must legally remain nameless has just found out that s/he is carrying a spawn. But this spawn is apparently the spawn of the manager of the team s/he plays for. This manager is not the person that s/he is married to - who just happens to be the Beater for that same team. Are people honestly this void of common sense? To work with ones spouse and see them every day even on away games and still go around shagging the boss and not be found out? And HOW in Merlin's good bloody name did the spouse not know what was happening? I mean, you can't use the "honey I'm working late excuse" in this case.

But that's not the big question. The real, BURNING question is such:
Just HOW much wood can a woodchuck really chuck IF a woodchuck could chuck wood?

Sorry Maty. Your idea was stolen by higher powers. Maybe the WWN will want to auction off your jewelry too?

So Maty wants to know who you would set up.

I want to know who you WOULDN'T set up.

Let's see...
( Who You Should Never Date - According to Ritchie Coote, And Therefore Both Truthful And Accurate )

When I decided to go into the noble world of journalism, I was idealistic. Bright eyed, naive, naked as the day I was born. I thought, truly, in the depths of my being, that I would make a difference. Quidditch players would hail me as their hero for telling their stories, the public would laud me as the greatest reporter of all times, and women would bow down before me and fawn in hopes that I would be their gateway to a a world of Quidditch stars.

Well, I did get the women. But Quidditch groupies are pretty trashy. Seriously, if you're going to troll for Quidditch groupies, make sure you get your potion vaccination. They're dirty.

Not that I've trolled for Quidditch groupies. I haven't. Well, I mean, yeah, my first year on staff I got all power trippy and flashed my badge; but that's only satisfying the first few times.

Where was I?

Oh, yes! Today my day consisted of fielding owls with various PR reps of diva Quidditch players and cleaning droppings off my desk as Howlers exploded around me declaring me to be a "paparazzi spawn" intent on "ruining lives and destroying careers." As if it is my fault that their married client was discovered in the arms of another PR's married client. I didn't purchase their hotel room. I just paid the girl at the desk to tell me which one they were in.

Let this be a lesson: if you're going to stray, don't be famous. And if you are famous, don't sneak around with someone else who is famous. It's just a lack of common sense. Or one too many hits with a bludger.

And that's about the time she walked away from me
Nobody likes you when your 23
And you still act like you're in your First year
What the hell is wrong with me?
My friends say I should act my age
What's my age again?
( What's my age again? )