Myleene Klass

Myleene Klass on declining Russell Brand's unwanted advances

Mum-of-three Myleene Klass has today opened up on declining Russell Brand's unwanted advances.

The 45-year-old presenter said she had felt uncomfortable in an encounter with Brand and "trusted her instincts and got out".

Al Murray's Make Christmas Great Again review

A few years ago, the Pub Landlord's xenophobic conceit seemed to be wearing thin. In the light of recent politics, he seems fresh and even prescient. The effect is unsettling: in the laughs and cheers there are traces of the emotions he is ostensibly subverting. Is he teasing those who mock the French? Or us, the crowd who laugh slightly too loudly when he mocks the French? It's no coincidence that in the best moments last night, as Murray claimed that Christmas was a British creation, he brought to mind other boisterous populists on both sides of the Atlantic.

Ben Elton interview: backing Labour for the election

The comedian also called on Myleene Klass to pay her share of the tax after she "made loads taking a shower in a bikini".

I'm a Celeb 2012 profiles: Linda Robson

Get to know the 54-year-old actress who says she's going to be this year's Myleene Klass.

The newest thing in comedy sketch shows - and doesn't that very phrase feel antediluvian? - is Watson & Oliver, well known to Edinburgh Fringe audiences. They're an appealing duo. Ingrid Oliver has a thrillingly low voice - Fiona Bruce meets Victoria Coren - she's a dead ringer for Myleene Klass (who is duly ridiculed), and she can really act. Lorna Watson is blond, brittle and has to work harder for laughs. Their opening gambit was a direly old-fashioned bit of sub-Morecambe & Wise before-the-show backchat, but, once they settled down, their sketches were inventive and unusual. In a spoof of a TV Jane Austen serial, the mob-capped duo tittered like six-year-olds about pin cushions to a pair of bored Mr Darcys, then switched abruptly to double entendre. ("Our dance cards - we eagerly await the filling of our slots by two special gentlemen.") A Victoria Wood-style pastiche of 1950s ladies' kitchen conversation - all pinnies and hair-rollers - was surreally punctuated by Watson's response-appropriate eyebrows. A greasy-spoon café became a symphony of shouts and orders in which everyone called everyone else "darling" - "Cup o'tea, darlin'?" "Keep the change, my darlin'" - until someone silenced the room by saying "Love". In what is clearly meant to be the show's signature sketch, the girls do their impression of Prince William and Kate tucked up in bed, unable to find anything to talk about except their wedding day. But couldn't they have found a better punchline subject than Pippa Middleton's over-prodded rump?

The best sketch imagined two Playboy bunnies squeaking competitively about how pink their living quarters were, how appealing their fake boobs, how delightful their lives, until they were summoned to cuddle up to the saurian Hefner. Between retchings, they competed as to which had a better excuse not to fulfil this noisome duty. It was a gift of a subject to these two funny, appealing women, and they seized it with unladylike glee. I look forward to seeing a lot more of them.

Heralded as heirs to the long-vacant throne of French and Saunders, double act Ingrid Oliver and Lorna Watson don't disappoint in this hugely enjoyable new sketch show. With a comedy style that is, in Oliver's words, "big and silly", this pair make an instant splash with impersonations of everyone from the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge to Myleene Klass, period drama spoofs, and verbally dexterous sketches reminiscent of The Two Ronnies. It has a rare sense of comic mischief that teases but doesn't offend.