Bzzt. Crunk. Fzzttt . . . via the miracles of an internet connection, suddenly there she was, from the English Cotswolds to an American courthouse.
Beamed in from an anonymous room in a place she called ‘Gloucestershire’, Kate Moss raised her right hand, complete with lovely manicure, and promised to tell the whole truth and nothing but. Her voice pealed through the sulphurous courtroom, clear as a Croydon church bell.
Amid the thicket of burly U.S. accents, to the untrained American ear, she could have been a duchess or a debutante or even a flower girl, one who knew very well exactly where the rain in Spain doth fall.
In the closing days of the Depp-Heard trial, Kate was giving evidence for one reason only: to rebut Amber Heard’s allegation that Johnny Depp threw Kate down some stairs on holiday in Jamaica in the mid-1990s.
Beamed in from an anonymous room in a place she called ‘Gloucestershire’, Kate Moss raised her right hand, complete with lovely manicure, and promised to tell the whole truth and nothing but
He did no such thing, said Miss Moss. Instead, she slipped on a wet step and Johnny carried her back to her room, then sought help. She was direct and clear in her testimony and there was no mistaking her resolve. ‘He never pushed me, kicked me or threw me down any stairs,’ she said.
We have never seen Kate in this light before: earnest and sincere, complete with take-me-seriously pussy-bow blouse and an I-mean-business blazer. And while her testimony lasted fewer than three minutes, it had much impact, going straight to the heart of this he said/she said trial.
Why, with no evidence, did Amber Heard not only choose to believe that Depp had attacked Miss Moss, but go on to repeat the lie? And what was her motive for doing so? Well that is something for the jury to chew over.
So well done to Kate Moss for taking part — for standing up and speaking out on behalf of her old friend. Ask yourself this: would you do the same for a man or woman you dated nearly 30 years ago?
In the full knowledge that you risked public condemnation, derision or potentially being humiliated in a cross examination televised to the world?
In the closing days of the Depp-Heard trial, Kate was giving evidence for one reason only: to rebut Amber Heard’s allegation that Johnny Depp threw Kate down some stairs on holiday in Jamaica in the mid-1990s
Despite all this Kate Moss did not hesitate. For her pains she was dismissed, more or less, by Miss Heard the following day. The former Mrs Depp argued that there were many witnesses who had come out of the woodwork whose version of events were different from hers, because they wanted to curry favour with Depp and that it was all part of his ‘power’.
Judge, may I recap? Thank you. Moss was heartbroken when Depp dumped her in 1998, but clearly bears no grudges. More importantly, she did not just stand up for her former lover but for the truth — her truth — when it would have been easier to say nothing.
Since Heard first made her allegations of abuse against Depp in 2016 — and then wrote the op-ed that is at the heart of this trial — many high-profile members of the sisterhood have rallied to her cause like geese to the golden egg. Unquestioningly, unfailingly and perhaps even unthinkingly. But now the terrible question must be asked: what if the golden goose they flocked to worship is now cooked? What if this woman, who has portrayed and paraded herself as a wronged saint, a bruised icon of male violence, turns out to be the bully and not the bullied? Only time will tell.
Yesterday Miss Heard gave a final, impassioned performance from the witness box. All she wanted, she cried, was to bring a voice to people who don’t have a voice. ‘I have the right . . . to own my story and my truth. I hope to get my voice back. That’s all I want,’ she said, perhaps overlooking the fact that she has countersued Depp for $100 million.
Since Heard first made her allegations of abuse against Depp in 2016 — and then wrote the op-ed that is at the heart of this trial — many high-profile members of the sisterhood have rallied to her cause like geese to the golden egg
However, my point is that far too many have picked sides in this case based on nothing more than either blinkered, fan-crazed Deppmania, or cherished feminist beliefs backed by fashionable, societal pressures.
For a recent article on the British Vogue magazine website, one writer examines his conscience during this second Depp/Heard trial. ‘Though I’ve felt myself veering toward it, I can no longer ‘both sides’ this,’ he writes. ‘It’s time to draw a line. It’s time to believe women — all women. It’s time to believe Heard. The British courts believed Depp beat his ex-wife. What’s stopping the rest of us?’
Well, there is the small matter of evidence, for a start. And the creeping realisation that Heard may not have been entirely truthful in the London trial about donating all her divorce money to charity — a key point in the court’s judgment that she was ‘no gold digger.’
Meanwhile in New Yorker magazine, a contributor writes that what Depp is doing is not trying to clear his name, but merely indulging in ‘revenge porn’. He is ‘forcing’ his ex-wife to be ‘complicit in the sharing and dissemination of raw, vulnerable, literally sensational moments for the delectation of an unseen audience’. Is that really justice for Johnny? Or justice denied?
What I really hate is the wilful taking of sides, the blind devotion to Team Johnny or Team Amber, no matter what. We are not supporting football teams here, but dealing with the terrible rubble of these gilded, ruined lives. To be honest, I loathe the moronic fans who queue to cheer Depp and boo Heard as they drive into the Virginia court each morning.
But equally repellent are the fem-justice warriors who champion Heard and purportedly what she stands for, without question. At least Kate Moss did what she thought was right, did it for the right reasons and did it from the heart.
Watch out! Kardashian clan crash into town
Some Roman Catholics are upset about the stagey appropriation of their religion as a mere prop in the latest Kardashian wedding — and I don’t blame them. Surely, some things are still sacred, especially sacred things?
Obviously not. When Kourtney married drummer Travis Barker in Portofino on the Italian Riviera this week, it was their tri-wedding ceremony because they don’t do things by thirds.
Dolce & Gabbana made the thrice-wed bride a minidress with a long, hand-embroidered veil that featured a large image of the Virgin Mary. Other Catholic paraphernalia cluttered the ‘altar’. However, it was Portofino itself I most felt sorry for.
This once chic spot — where Humphrey Bogart lit a cigarette for Ava Gardner outside a cafe in The Barefoot Contessa — reduced to having this rabble thundering about.
The groom, haunted Portofino in monk cowl (more inappropriate religious appropriation), showing off his new ‘Kourtney’ tattoo near his left nipple.
Meanwhile, the bride scampered around the picturesque harbour in her knickers, as sister Kim wore a crop top and a pair of ‘pantaboots’ to board their yacht. May God forgive them all, but I don’t think he will.
Mamma Mia! Gimme, gimme Abba live…
After all these years I still love Abba, but find the prospect of the Abba avatar show rather depressing.
It launches this week, in a special theatre in East London, and is set to run from now until the seas run dry — or seven months at least.
No doubt the technology is superb and will capture all four members in all their 1970s glory. But why? Surely not just for a money, money, money-making machine.
A few years ago, I saw the world premiere of the Whitney Houston hologram tour in Sheffield. At the time, the tragic singer had been dead for eight years, but via the mawkish wonders of technology, Whitney had been dug up, digitalised and sent back on the road.
Some 1,800 fans seemed happy to pay anywhere from £30 to £65 each to watch this ghoulish spectacle: a disco dolly apparition of a deceased diva, miming to newly remastered vocal tracks in a pair of feathered knickerbockers.
And now Abba are in on the same racket.
Wait till Mick Jagger hears about this! The Rolling Stones may have a combined age of about 1,078, but they are about to knock back the Sanatogen and embark on another European tour, while Bruce Springsteen,72, and the E Street Band have announced their world tour dates for next year. They were all around in the 1970s, too.
And if they can still tour in person, why can’t Abba?
If America decides it can bear the killing of children without doing anything about it, what hope is there for its soul? The latest school shooting has left 19 children and two adults dead, with more wounded. The killer, 18-year-old Salvador Ramos, was yet another troubled young man who himself was shot dead by police.
Since Columbine in 1999, the average age of school shooters has been 16 — while more than two-thirds were committed by shooters under 18. If getting rid of assault weapons is just too much for Americans to tackle, how about stricter controls and limiting the age of those who have access to them?
It is not the answer, but it could be a start.
At the Cannes festival, actress Kristen Stewart tried to defend her latest film. Many walked out of the premiere of Crimes Of The Future: directed by shockmeister David Cronenberg and featuring hideous gore, including breasts being sliced off and humans licking the wounds of other humans. Sounds awful, but Kristen says it is art so shaddup, Philistines. ‘What we’re doing now could be art to someone,’ she said. ‘It’s a beautiful thing to excavate yourself and show it to the world.’
No it’s not, Kristen. Not now, not ever. Not even if you are a tot struggling with potty training.
My love is like a red, red rose that’s newly . . . oh hello. Matt Hancock and Gina Coladangelo turned up hand in hand at Chelsea Flower Show, as innocent as a pair of daisies.
Almost a year since the lovers were exposed in his Westminster office, the couple looked in the pink.
The former health secretary said he loved the wilding garden; thought the daffs were just super.
But everyone knew he was keeping one eye open for a handy potting shed in which to disappear into, and give his date another of his infamous school-dance snogs.
Part of me was happy for them — true love will conquer all!
While another part thought — oh, his poor wife.