Vanity Fair depicts the successive New York Post "Page Six" editors' profiles in its December issue. During 27 years of gossips crème de la crème (and still more coming), it appears "Page Six" had one "Keith" and one "Charlie";

Brady's successor, Neil Travis, was a bon vivant in the making and a favored member of the Murdoch mafia despite his openly liberal tendencies. If the flamboyant Dunleavy was the Keith Richards of tabloid journalism, then his mate Travis was its Charlie Watts, quieter and more thoughtful by comparison, but, nonetheless, a man who lived for the beat – whether it was Elaine's, Regine's, or Studio 54 – and the opportunity to cut down some tall puppies.

Sweeties Darling, being a true blue American, let me tell you that Page Six is beere piss, it's flapsnot, it's it matter exposed when the foreskin is pulled back from an uncircumcised and unwashed penis. It's meaningless and Page Three of The London Sun...

"The wonder of Jimi Hendrix was that he could stand up at all he was so pumped full of drugs." Patsy, Patsy Stone

Dear Menace.

On a neutral point of view, I presume you react exactly how they want you to react.


Editor Neil Travis used to say "there is no good day if no one is pissed off"