This week I decided to become a celebrity. It looks pretty easy; all you have to do is let the press take a photo of you getting out of a car, in a short skirt, with no underwear. How hard can THAT be? Obviously you have to get them to take the photo in the first place and as I am not famous yet that posed a bit of a problem.

In the end I figured that I would be sure to get photographed if I was mistaken for a current celebrity. Then my upskirt nudery would propel me to daytime television star status, as it has done for so many before me.

So I cut out a picture of Gwyneth Paltrow from Movie Week, blew it up to life size (which is pretty big – not many people realize that Gwyneth’s head is actually two foot wide in real life), stuck it to cardboard and made it into a mask. Next I chose a very short skirt, shaved off my pubes, hired a limo and went out to the clubs where the beautiful people hang out.

We pulled up outside “Soul Feltch”, a new club in the West End that seems to be the place to be seen for soap stars and X-Factor finalists recently. I got the driver to honk his horn at the paparazzi, opened the door and started to get out of the car like John Wayne with nappy rash to make sure they all got a good look. The flash bulbs went crazy, “Sorted!” I thought. Then it all went wrong. I am pretty tall, and getting out of the car with a cardboard face the size of a no-entry sign is tricky. I smacked the mask on the roof of the car and went flying backwards into the car, the driver misread my intentions and sped off , thinking I wanted to escape the strobe light frenzy of snapping cameras.

So all my careful planning came to nothing. I got saddled with a bill for the car hire and dress and that’s all. To add insult to injury all the papers this morning are carrying the same bloody headline: “Gwyneth Paltrow has a cock! Pictures: pages 3-27”.