Dannii Minogue has promised to take me Power Plating. Promised. She has also
promised to give me the name of a photographer who takes great nude
portraits (“Every woman should be photographed nude,” she insists. “It’s so
liberating”); to give me the recipe for her special feta and watermelon
salad (“Usually I hate fruit in savoury, but this works’); and to tell me
who is the best person in London for Botox. “The one who does Simon’s,” she
confides, “he’s a little, er, ag-griss-ive.” Not that she herself has it
done any more, as you would know if you were one of the millions who saw her
being interviewed by Piers Morgan the other night. “See?” she
says, lifting up her little cow’s lick of a fringe and energetically moving
her brows up and down. “Lines!”
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