’Twas the week before Christmas, and all through the tabs
The scribes were indulging their great gifts of gab.
Their notebooks were poised at their desktops with care
In hopes that Saint Scandal soon would be there.
(And deliver Brad Pitt en flagrante—an affair!)
The writers were nestled all snug in their beds
While visions of “sad last days” danced in their heads.
They dreamed of “insiders,” “experts,” and “pals,”
Who’d dish all the dirt on celeb femmes fatales.
From out of their pages there arose such a clatter
KT tried to figure out what was the matter.
Away to the window she flew like a flash
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the luster of midday to objects below
When what to her wondering eyes should appear
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer!
The driver had too many “shockers” to handle
She knew in a moment it must be Saint Scandal.
More rapid than eagles his subjects they came,
As he whistled and shouted and called them by name.
“Now, J. Lo! Now O.J.! Now Prince Wills and Britney!
On, Gwyneth! On, Julia! On, Jacko and Whitney!
Has Winona been shoplifting there at the mall?
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”
And what has Saint Scandal delivered this yule?
Same old, and same old: Who cheats and who’s cruel.
So let KT take you along by the hand
And show you the latest from yon Tabloidland.
The ex-prez Bill Clinton’s been flirting like mad, Claims the Globe, which reports that his wife is quite sad. The divorce is back on, the Globe says it’s for sure. Poor Hillary sighs, that for Bill, “there’s no cure.”
The Globe has Brit dirt on the lost royal baby
It could end the rumors that Edward’s gay. Maybe.
The Star says it’s all about late Princess Di
Poor Sophie can’t be her, as hard as she’s tried.
Ed’s nephew, Prince William, is dating a Yank
The Star says the two do hotel hanky-pank.
She’s older than he is and “funny” and “smart.”
The story says William has quite “lost” his heart.
(For those wondering what’s caught the young prince’s eye,
A “source” says—of course—she’s exactly like Di.)
The Star’s been inspecting Nicole Kidman’s thighs
There’s “unsightly” jiggle—Oh shock and surprise!
They say Julia Roberts gets thinner each day;
Producers ask softly, “Baby? Are you OK?”
Today’s Katie Couric is on the Star’s cover They say she’s confused about marrying her lover. A source says that Katie is in “private hell”KT’s very sorry to hear she’s unwell.
At the National Enquirer, they say Whitney Houston
Talked back to her dealer and got quite a bruisin’
She made the mistake of giving him sass
To which he said sweetly, “Bitch, I’ll kill your ass!”
Sounds just like O.J., who—says the NE— Has threatened his girlfriend and told her that he Is guilty of murder, upon his ex-wife, The one who was stabbed o’er and o’er with a knife.
Speaking of murder, there’s JonBenet news
’Bout her gentle mom Patsy, whom the tabloids accuse.
The Enquirer’s experts say mom wrote that letter
While the Globe insists JonBenet was a bedwetter.
And just when there’s no one left to offend
The week’s crop of tabloids draws fast to its end.
Saint Scandal’s completed his regular rounds
Delivering gossip to tabloid bloodhounds.
KT caught him leaving, all tawdry and mean,
Poking his nose where it shouldn’t have been.
But she heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.”
