Tesco: A Bryn Phillips Guerrilla Party - police gatecrash

I could say something about Michael Foot who has just died, aged 143, but to be quite honest I always disliked the way his mouth seemed to froth up during windbag monologues. History can turn on such things. Instead enjoy the work of the love of my life (after Molly Parkin, natch) Bryn Phillips who has just held an "illegal" Guerrilla Party at a Tesco supermarket (Dalston, London) amid trolley-pushers and other discount-slavering agony aunt writers. I understand he held a similar do on a London train a while back. These parties are so good that the police gatecrash them, as they did at Tesco. Isn't Bryn sooo cute - he's the one singing in his tan coat. We must make him famous. Lovely voice. And hands. Keep him away from Simon Cowell. He's mine.

Suzanne Moore for editor: She's Independent, are you?

Make this woman the new editor of the Independent and stop pissing about.

She's a liberal-leftist icon and she makes lots of money from Lord Rothermere by offending him every week in one of his own newspapers. She's proof you don't have to become a rightwing 'mare to coin it in journalism.

And she's no Labour lapdog. When last year the New Statesman made Alastair Campbell guest-editor she resigned from the magazine on highly publicised principle. How could a publication which opposed the Iraq invasion get cuddlesome with one of the war's chief mongers? She's of the left but no apparatchik. Just what we need as virtually every British newspaper right now takes dictation from Andy Coulson.

She's indie down to her legendary fuck-me shoes. She is Madame Arcati's most interesting choice.

Her name is Suzanne Moore. Google her.

(Meanwhile, Rod Liddle's skin colour problem)

Nicky Haslam Redeeming Features book party - but sans the young boyfriend!

Haslam with Cilla Black, friends again, though she's mentioned only in passing in his memoir. Bitches

Do you imagine the spirit of Madame Arcati can be barred from a party she is determined to attend? How sad and deluded you must be.

Of course I was at Nicky Haslam's Warhol-y parties to mark the publication (at last) of his memoir Redeeming Features. All three of me at the two of them. It was Bonfire Night. Nicky: in monochrome as a Regency rake. Slimmer. Whiter-haired. We Arcatis drifted into London's Aqua Nueva and clocked novelist Susie Boyt wearing the same damned ugly bridesmaid-style, too shiny dress - emerald green! - she had on at Fay Weldon's book launch about 6 or 8 weeks ago. It doesn't flatter her at all and the main reason we say so is because she's some sort of style queen. She sings Judy Garland in any case. Her soul is plainly gay male.

Duncan Fallowell attended fully clothed

Countless white-haired cocks were all about: Duncan Fallowell knew them all so we asked him for IDs. Most amusing as ever and he confided, between canapes and a little chat-up of the German waiter (whose name we'd reveal if we hadn't accidentally binned the scrap of paper), that given the size of the crowd, he was impressed that there were only two people there with whom he'd engaged in carnal relations. He wouldn't say who. Not Nicky Haslam though.

Cilla Black turned up late even though she and Nicky are supposed to have fallen out according to Lynn Barber who left early. The International Herald Tribune's fashion queen Suzy Menkes OBE queued eagerly to get her book signed - just ahead of us so we complimented her violet nail varnish, which was just a ruse to peer into her quiffy rollbar coiffure and marvel. She couldn't wait to see what NH wrote in her book. She's not in it, by the way.

Any number of people posed with their fingers stuck mid-book for the impression they'd "found their mention" - a party strategy to appear important regardless of omission or commission. The elder slebs took lots of pics of each other as if to celebrate unexpected longevity: Andy and Sony would have loved it.

Nicky's niece: her card is in our purse. Why? Carina Haslam (http://www.carinahaslamart.com/). And we also have Johnny Gibson's card who's head of marketing of Sound and Music, at Somerset House. Who he? With Carina?

Duran Duran's Nick Rhodes posed about still with the 60s Liz Taylor mascara while the actress who plays Gail in Coronation Street looked exactly as she does on TV except in better clothes. We met Nicky's "designer stalker" Fish and her very cute friend, a chap called Shaun (or Shawn) who edited the BBC documentary on Nicky out on the 16th.

That was the common party the papers wrote about. The after-party at Mahiki was more fun, despite the exorbitant cocktails - or was it? At one point Nicky sat next to us and we asked whether his young handsome filmmaker boyfriend was here. Nicky said no, he couldn't get hold of him. Awwww.

Suzanne Moore, New Statesman and Campbell's 'lies'

Suzanne Moore responds to Alastair Campbell via Madame Arcati

Fancy the New Statesman ridding itself of the utterly enchanting writer Suzanne Moore - and not even bothering to tell her. She'd written for the publication for 20 years, then last week it was guest-edited by the hideous bully and Iraq War apologist Alastair Campbell. This was the last straw for Suzanne who volubly recalled, unlike its useless, hapless and pompous editor Jason Cowley, that the mag had opposed the Iraq invasion. She opened her copy of the mag and saw her name had been dropped from the masthead.

She told all in the Mail on Sunday yesterday, click here. She writes: "I know it is now possible to get fired by text or email but have I been fired without even realising it? Quite a feat, even by my amateurish standards. Also, have I been fired from a nominal position for which I didn’t get paid?"

Suzanne got in touch with me this morning about the matter, and in particular, in response to a long page 3 report in today's Guardian. She is incensed by Campbell who's quoted as saying in an email to the paper: "I had no idea she worked for the New Statesman. I don't read the Mail on Sunday. But professing commitment to leftwing values in that rightwing rag lends a somewhat weakened credibility to anything she says."

Suzanne writes to Madame Arcati: "What Campbell says is surprisingly lies. He knows who I write for or he should as his partner Fiona once came round to interview me and my daughter about state education. But perhaps they just don't talk anymore. Who can say?"

Certainly I shall not be reading the Statesman anymore - it requires a change of owners(s), editor as well as culture. You can't have a leftwing magazine run by practising right-wingers.

Meantime my congratulations to Suzanne on her principled stand.