The pulling power of Bill Clinton remains undiminished. He received an unprecedented advance for a non-fiction book (£6.6m) and record sales, despite some of the worst reviews in the history of autobiography, when My Life hit the stands.
The advance PR was brilliant. Unusually, there was no newspaper serialisation in the UK, only one exclusive interview with the Guardian. This might have been a clever ploy, as the book is high on dull, meandering political minutiae, but low on the personal detail that would make it an exciting read. To dismiss Monica Lewinsky in a mere four paragraphs was - at the very least - unchivalrous.
As for the Guardian, despite a full-page colour ad promoting the interview on Saturday, it was disappointing. Understandably, with Jonathan Freedland and Alan Rusbridger as its authors, expectations were high, but the G2 interview read as though they had got five minutes with the guy and all he wanted to talk about was his part in trying to bring peace to the Middle East.
The only good line from the interview was how Nelson Mandela helped him through the darkest hours of the Lewinsky affair. It said more about Clinton than anything else. In his own version of history, this towering egotist somehow manages to put Zippergate on a par with apartheid.
The only mistake his publisher made was to imagine that the David
Dimbleby interview for BBC1's Panorama would be anything like the love-in he got from Dan Rather of CBS. Dimbleby made the president lose his temper on more than one occasion, skilfully exposing Clinton for what he is - a man desperate to rewrite his place in history and to blame the media for all his woes. When he attacked Dimbleby over the media's role in Zippergate, you could see laid bare all the vanity, selfishness and self-delusion that got Clinton into trouble in the first place.
The way he goes on, you'd think it was the media that kept undoing his flies.
A dream job in nightmare circumstances, is the way the editorship of the Daily Mirror is being billed as the new man, Richard Wallace, steps into Piers Morgan's rather big shoes. Can he fill them? Only time will tell.
Like Morgan, Wallace comes from a showbiz background, a red-top man with good news sense and strong opinions. Unlike Morgan, he is a natural left-winger. He was first to break the Beckham marriage crisis story, although he had to withdraw it when the couple threatened legal action. Then along came Rebecca Loos.
He was also genuinely respected by his staff on the Sunday Mirror, where he was acting editor during Tina Weaver's maternity leave. He never passes the buck, and is refreshingly decisive.
Wallace will have to prove that he has the toughness required for the job. He'll have to make changes, put his stamp on the Mirror and reinvigorate what is, at the moment, a very tired-looking product.
Pictures of Victoria Beckham scratching the dirt for a meagre existence with children in Peru for a BBC documentary should be enough to warm the heart of even the most cynical Posh-watcher. But, alas, as she whines on about "'ow awful I feel 'cos me kids 'ave got so much and these kids 'ave nuffink", one can't help but think that the cost of just one breast implant would have been enough to feed the villagers for years.
With their shaved heads, tattoos and primal screams, sometimes it's hard to spot the difference between the football thugs and the players, especially when Wayne Rooney is on the front pages. But at least he has something to shout about.
The only things we can rely on in the coverage of Euro 2004 are Rooney's goals, David Beckham's misses and the latter's skill at manoeuvring himself into every picture with the former.
Beckham was so desperate to share the limelight with Rooney after the Croatia game that he actually hugged Rooney from behind and gripped him around the waist so that he couldn't escape.
Beckham can't bear to be off the front pages, so he steals other people's magic moments. He has become like one of those creeps who goes around having himself photographed with celebrities.
With endorsement deals pouring in, Rooney is being hailed as the first £100m footballer. But with elephant ears and legs to match, and a face that only a mother could love, play-makers in the world of style and fashion are hardly queuing up.
Which is probably all for the good: Rooney may have the chance to lead something like a normal life.
The Barclay brothers have finally pulled it off: they have bought the Daily Telegraph for £665m.
Let the musical chairs begin!