By bitchy former Apprentice star Katie Hopkins
So where aria going to turn up next, Miss Jenkins? ... singer Katherine seems everywhere
EVERYWHERE you look these days it seems Britain’s most famous warbler is there – especially if a photographer is around as well.
Here, a straight-talking former Apprentice star pulls no punches as she gives her verdict on the opera diva Katherine Jenkins.
WITH her blonde hair, puppy-dog eyes and a cleavage to die for, Katherine Jenkins is the walking embodiment of female perfection.
Well, at least to your average bloke.
But ask a typical woman what she thinks of La Jenkins and one sentence in particular is going to fall from her lips: “I can’t bloody stand her.”
Ever since her record label ditched her, you can’t take a left turn without bumping into Katherine making sure we haven’t forgotten about her.
If she isn’t gracing the Royal Box at Wimbledon, she’s rocking up at Glastonbury with daisies in her hair showing us all how well she can do festival chic.
There she was at Lady Thatcher’s funeral, flashing too much cleavage than was appropriate for the occasion.
And I’m beginning to wonder whether the Palace has her agent on speed-dial, with the amount of royal functions she’s been to.
When she opens her mouth she might as well have the Union Flag tattooed on to her tongue, because the words that come out of it are nothing but patriotic.
Which is fine, to a point. But with Katherine, you start to feel like it’s all being rammed down your throat.
And you start to wonder, isn’t there someone with a bit more substance we can use to represent Brand GB?
Of course, I get why blokes fancy her. She’s gorgeous.
I’m sure they find her inoffensive and wonder what their wives and girlfriends are going on about.
To them, she is endearing, sweet — and she’s got a great set of hooters.
But to see any bloke with his tongue hanging out as he takes in her considerable charms just makes you instantly lose respect for him.
She flashes him her 500-megawatt Welsh smile and he’s a dribbling mess at her feet.
And all because he can’t see what we can — which is that it’s all an act and a game.
Us women have got her number.
We can spot pretence at 20 paces — and with her simpering smile and eye lashes (stolen from the nearest available Guernsey cow) we take one look at Katherine and wince.
She’s the kind of friend you would never ask the opinion of if you weren’t sure about whether to buy a particular frock or pair of jeans.
Like a gushing saleswoman, she’d tell you how fantastic you looked just to close the sale.
In fact, she’d probably try to sell it that bit harder if it did — so she’d look even better when she stood next to you when you wore it.
Katherine tries too hard to be all things to all people.
But we don’t buy into the crocodile tears and the image of perfection she works so hard at cultivating.
We like other women to have their flaws — that’s what we find endearing and attractive in other females because it means we don’t feel so bad about being less than perfect ourselves.
But there’s the rub: Katherine doesn’t want to be like us.
She wants to go one better, which is why the sisterhood won’t give her the time of day.
Take when she competed in the London Marathon.
There we were, cheering on the women like us — the ones who were a tad overweight or who’d done nothing like enough training, yet had collapsed across that line in a melting mess.
We admired their guts, we were thrilled they’d completed that race against the odds.
Did we cheer for Katherine when she trotted across the very same line, her hair and make-up still immaculate and not an eyelash out of place?
Did we say: “Good on you” while she posed for pictures, looking amazing?
Did we heck.
Little Miss Perfect had shown the rest of womankind she’s that bit better at yet another thing than any of us might ever hope to be.
The problem with Katherine is we don’t recognise ourselves in her.
She likes being different and, for someone who wants to be loved by all, that’s a terrible mistake.
I accept that I say things that will turn other women against me.
When she was dropped by her record company we all had a jolly good laugh at her expense, but Katherine couldn’t take it and moaned in a newspaper that it wasn’t fair.
How much more respect we’d have had if she’d shrugged her shoulders and accepted it as just one of those things.
Of course, Katherine’s a huge hit with Our Boys in uniform.
I’m the first to acknowledge that the boost she gives our troops when she joins them on tour should never be criticised.
She’s a modern-day Vera Lynn — our brave lads can’t get enough.
But wouldn’t it be great if she’d do the rest of womankind a huge favour and stay out there with them?
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