Nothing Is Ever As It Seems, Part I:
Tony Blackburn's rants in the Mail are rich, even for me. He blames his ghostwriter for having said, in his autobiography, that Tony slept with five hundred women. He complains that the ghostwriter insisted on this not completely surprising revelation, since there was not enough 'drugs and rock'n'roll' in the text, and that there needed to be 'much more sex.'
Tony regrets that part now, revealing how much it upset his mum and dad, his wife Debbie and his daughter Victoria. Hmm.
Tony's ghostwriter is a good friend of mine. As I suspected, and as is almost always the case with a ghosted autobiography,Tony had complete copy approval over the manuscript, and 100% final say. Anything that he didn't want to see in print, despite the fact that he had said it, could easily have been deleted at Tony's command. As it was, the ghostwriter was more concerned with the plethora of literals and typos that made it into the published book, because the proofs were rushed too quickly to print. Whatever. The book became a bestseller, and Tony reaped a mighty sum. The ghost gets a flat fee, and is dispensed with.
There are times to take responsibility for our actions, and this was one.

Tony trashes Jimmy Savile for having ruined the reputation of an entire generation of DJs: his own. The many sex scandals, for him, have been a stretch too far. He is outraged, as were we all, by the way in which Paul Gambaccini was treated: effectively found guilty before he was tried, and suspended from the BBC. Paul turned out to be entirely innocent, and was cleared of every charge. He describes Gambo as his 'dear friend', and sticks up for him admirably. Hmm again.
In November 2013, a bunch of us convened at the Hippodrome off Leicester Square to celebrate the twenty-fifthth anniversary of Capital Gold radio. I was chatting with Phil Swern and TB when the time for people to pull out their cameras. I urged Gambo into the line-up with Phil and Tony ... but Tony ducked out of the picture, refusing to be photographed with Paul. 
Nothing Is Ever As It Seems, Part II:
Last night's 'Britain's Got Talent' on ITV featured a boyband called Boyband, yes, who don't sing but who dance, and who wowed both judges and audience with their gravity-defying leaps. They are 'exposed' in the press for not having declared their former associations with BGT, and for 'pretending' to be a 'brand-new' act who rehearse their routines on the street and in car parks; for some of them having had dealings with BGT before, and for not being a new dance troupe at all, but for having entered all kinds of other competitions in the past.
One of the Boyband line-up is the elder brother of a friend of my two youngest kids. They all attend South London Youth Theatre. In fact, this dance troupe were approached by 'Britain's Got Talent', not the other way round. Various factors were contrived to make them look 'new'. Kids keen on making it are going to refuse such an opportunity? Gift horse, mouth.
Britain hasn't got quite enough talent, clearly: hence French ventriloquists with 'talking dogs' (didn't that plastic mouthpiece on the canine amount to animal cruelty?) The show is not as spontaneous as it looks.