Wayne Rooney's courtroom diary

REBEKAH Vardy’s libel case against Coleen Rooney has begun. If you’re still not sure what the f**k it’s about, don’t worry – her husband Wayne is here to explain the legal intricacies.

9.25am. At the court. Bit posher than when I got banned for drink driving with some bird in the car. Bad do that. I was driving a Volkswagen Beetle instead of me orange Bentley. Looked a right chav.

9.30am. Case has started. Lots of baldies with wigs, even the women. It’s like one of those courtroom dramas. Rebekah looks quite fit. I’d give her one. Coleen punches me in the bollocks. That’s what I get for making small talk to put her at ease.

10.10am. Apparently Rebekah regrets saying Peter Andre’s hung like a small chipolata. Ha ha. Classic. Wonder what a chipolata is. Probably one of those little monkeys.

11am. F**king hell this is confusing. Apparently Rebekah was leaking stories from Coleen’s private instagram but Rebekah said she never so Coleen did a sting by putting out fake stories so Rebekah would send them. You’d think Coleen would like more crap about her on Twitter, she’s never off that f**king phone.

1pm. Thank f**k, it’s lunchtime. Could do with a pint. Ask Coleen if we should invite Rebekah. ‘Are you a f**king idiot, Wayne?’ she says. I know the answer to this one. It’s yes.

2.00pm. Back in court. Apparently everyone’s calling it the ‘Wagatha Christie’ trial. She wrote the film about the murder on the train. Funny name, Wagatha. Luckily me and Coleen have given our kids sensible names: Cass, Klay, Kai and Kit. If we have more kids there’s still plenty of K names left: Kayden, Kolin, Kangaroo.

2.21pm. Just bored now. Still, I made some good progress on Candy Crush Saga. I’ll get to level 2 one of these days.

4pm. Rebekah’s barrister says Coleen really enjoyed being a detective. You got that right, mate. In my younger, less responsible days, she’d say things like ‘I think you were out with some slag you met in a nightclub. I don’t think aliens abducted you at all’. It’s like she was psychic.

5.30pm. Finished for the day, thank f**k. It’s weird, ‘cos I always thought courts were for serious stuff like murders, and this just seems like two bitchy women bearing a grudge. Must have cost a fortune too, what with all the lawyers. I said to Coleen, ‘Who’s paying for this?’ and she said ‘You are.’ Then I imagined them taking all my Bentleys away and I had a little cry.

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A boring korma and a San Miguel for Starmer: What politicians' curry orders say about them

IT’S entirely plausible that a dull, play-it-safe type like Keir Starmer would order a chicken korma. Curry aficionado Wayne Hayes explains what politicians’ choices say about them:

Keir Starmer: chicken korma and a bottle of San Miguel

Starmer is a man of honour, integrity and bland, boring tastes, meaning he won’t go any hotter than a mild, creamy korma alongside a cheap beer. Make sure it’s only a bottle, mind, let’s not go mad. Every night’s a school night for Sir Keir.

Boris Johnson: chicken tikka masala and seven pints of Cobra

Man of the people Boris will go for the popular choice, plus an entire peshwari naan to himself, while drinking heavily. Then he’ll take his shirt off, table-hop trying to chat up women, attempt to fight the waiter and vomit on the pavement outside after being chucked out. Next day he will claim it was ‘a brilliant night’.

Nigel Farage: prawn biriyani which he’ll pretend to hate

Despite telling anyone who’ll listen he ‘doesn’t like that foreign muck’, Farage will give himself away as being an almighty bullshitter by ordering something on the more complex side like a king prawn biriyani. He’ll then pretend to have a strop because they don’t serve bitter, before being observed relishing a nice, cool glass of Indian lager.

Angela Rayner: lamb vindaloo with extra chilli

Ange is as hard as nails and she’ll make sure you know it by chomping her way through a fiery vindaloo while staring you right in the eye the whole time. Once she’s done with that she’ll eat a jar of lime pickle with a tablespoon, and wash it all down with a Baileys. Pure class.

Priti Patel: scampi and chips with a glass of white wine

As everyone knows, only a sociopath orders from the ‘English dishes’ section of the menu at an Indian restaurant, making it the perfect choice for the home secretary. Paired with a glass of unpleasant British wine to hammer home how patriotic she is, it will be the kind of hideous meal only Priti can enjoy.

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