As imagined by Brian Beacom

I KNOW it’s early days, but I’m one hundred and ten percent certain we’re going to win this court case when the judgement is announced.

You’ve been following the evidence. And so you know Rebekah Vardy has been telling tales taller than Tom Cruise’s heels. And she’s been digging herself in deeper than the Tijuana cocaine tunnel, except I don’t see her coming out the other side buzzing at all.

But now that it’s over, do I regret the experience? Yes, I do. I hate publicity as you know, except when I do the spreads for Closer and Hello magazine, and the body workout DVDs – which sold millions, by the way – and my autobiography, and my four Style Queen books and my newspaper columns... sorry, am I boring you? No? It’s just that your eyelids began to drop.

Yes, I admit I quite like people saying ‘You’re Wagatha Christie. You can solve just about anything, Coleen!’

But so often I’ve had to reply ‘OK, I can expose back-stabbing opportunists, but the Northern Ireland Protocol is a bit beyond me. And no, I’ve no idea what levelling up means. And I certainly can’t explain what a midget Scientology-loving film actor, even if he does his own stunts, has to do with the Queen’s Jubilee.’

But when you’re married to someone like my Wayne, it pays to develop a few detective skills.

These days, if we’re walking along the street and he even so much as glances at a granny as she’s going into Boots for her Tenas, I’m all over him like a trialist central defender. That’s why it wasn’t hard to discover that Rebekah (allegedly) leaks like our old toilet sink back in Croxteth.

Has the week been difficult for me? You know, the hardest part was when someone stopped me in the street and said they thought the TV serialisation of my latest book Conversations With Friends was slower than a train apology from Nicola Sturgeon.

While I’m on it, I’m not one to get into politics but how hard is it to find a few Casey Joneses on 50-odd grand a year?

Anyway, I said to this bloke, ‘Not me, mate, that’s Sally Rooney.’

And they said ‘Nah, she’s the big Scottish actor.’

At that point I gave up and said jokily; ‘Sorry. The next book I allow to be serialised will be more fun.’

And they said ‘You should write one about two wags who go to court determined to out-fashion each other, in a time when we’re living in a Foodbank Britain.’

I didn’t laugh at that, to be honest. But I did think, ‘Glad you reminded me. I must get Wayne some Kinder treats for the plane journey.’

Low cal, of course, because too many people have been saying that sports jacket of his makes him look like an overfed Geography teacher, but without the O Levels.

Anyway, the court fighting is over. And as Boris says of the 126 Covid fines, ‘It’s time to move on.’