Anna Nolan: Was it really worth making enemies over such a trivial book, Lorraine?
I WONDER how Lorraine Keane is feeling about the launch of her new book, Working The Red Carpet.
Dying, I'd say.
It's quite something to spill your guts into a book for everyone to read, but 'spilling the beans' on the Irish celebrity world, well, people who she has interviewed, people who have employed her or have worked with her will likely read how Lorraine truly feels about them.
And there, as they say, is the rub.
In bringing out this book, it's likely that Lorraine will never work at TV3 again. And I have to wonder at the wisdom of writing it at all.
Fact is, there are only two television stations in this country, RTE and TV3. It's not like the UK where presenters and producers alike hop from one channel to the next like little television frogs.
Just because you hack off the BBC by leaving it in a pickle, like Christine Bleakley did, doesn't mean you don't work again.
But TV in Ireland is too small to burn so much as a footstool, never mind a bridge.
No doubt, TV3 is well prepared to deal with whatever Lorraine says about her time there and her premature exit from the channel. She says that she left to spend time with her family. When I hear those words from any woman, I can see noses elongating and fingers crossing themselves.
My real worry with the book is that Lorraine doesn't give away enough gossip, tantrums or diva-like behaviour (and if describing herself, that doesn't count) to have made the exercise of making an enemy of a major station worthwhile.
The types that truly benefit from writing this sort of book are usually older, more secure, or those who have already had their career and have little to lose ... or those who are so small-minded that they don't care if no-one ever speaks to them again.
As she smells the burning of her media bridge, I hope the rewards are not shortlived. I strongly believe that Lorraine is a talented broadcaster who should be keeping her friends AND her enemies close, not alienating them.
Tears and feather boas at my first big fat GAY wedding
As I looked around the room I felt I was in the film Four Weddings And A Funeral. The ceremony was full of colourful people, (one person had a multi-coloured feather boa) the mood was exciting and the tears wouldn't stop rolling down my cheeks.
This weekend, I was at the wedding of my pal Alley (Alison) and her girlfriend Sheryl. My first gay wedding and it was one of the most moving events I have ever attended.
Now, I have been to many weddings over the years, but this day will stand out (apart from whatever happened after my third Scotch whisky at midnight). I was in Edinburgh and these two girls threw one heck of a party.
The ceremony in the Register Office was stunning. As the singer Lorna Brooks started playing the guitar, all eyes turned to the back of the room. A young boy, Alley's nephew, was leading the group up the middle aisle.
Next were the two witnesses. And finally, Alley -- looking as cute as anything in her black shirt, black skinny trousers and black cowboy boots. Sheryl wore a dress straight out of Calamity Jane -- cream satin A-line with a red ruffled underskirt.
To see the mothers of these two girls sit at the front, and beam with pride, was particularly special. Alley's mother is a quiet woman of few words. I have known her for a long time. Her face read like a woman who, like many mothers, was happy to see her girl settled.
In the congregation there were others who would have found the ceremony "different". I could tell from the faces in the crowd that the coming together of two women was something alien to them, and that they not necessarily felt uncomfortable, but perhaps a bit out of water.
As the DJ played This Time The Girl is Gonna Stay, and Alley and Sheryl twirled around the dance floor, and I bloody cried for the tenth time, I thought of all the happiness that will soon be experienced in Ireland when Civil Partnership comes here next year.
I'd get into the tissue business if I was you -- tears are about to start aflowing around the country.