Three ouais

Who doesn't love a presidential menage-á-trois played out in the international media? I myself have been poring over every cliched word written about François Hollande, his main Valérie Trierweiler and the side piece Julie Gayet. It's a bit like the Lee-Casey-Jasmine triangle that went on in the CBB house only last week, but with palaces, political rallies and the gayest three-wheeled scooter ever seen. Initial thoughts led me to conclude that the leading man, who resembles my old maths teacher to a worrying degree, definitely has a type. His first wife

Ségolène Royal, Valérie and Julie all look like they rolled off the bland mistress conveyor belt with their neat little features, chaitains hair and 60 Gauloise a day physiques. Perhaps the most intriguing aspect is that little midgety Hollande - known as Flanby for his unfortunate likeness to a wobbly, milky pudding - managed to bang one woman at all. Unless he's packing 9+ in the basement - and if that's what his face looks like I don't even want to think about down there - we can only assume Frankie has a sparkling first date repartee. Though from the lowly opinion poll ratings on Old Coffee Breath Face, this seems unlikely. No, "power corrupts" is the only thing that can possibly account for Hollande's allure. I'm sure I wasn't the only one who cringed for all womankind on hearing that Valérie had gone off to hospital with an attack of the vapours and practically needed an induced coma to come to terms with the news that her fug other half was a stone cold playa. Grow a pair of balls, Val. It also struck me - and yes, it is catty - what yellow teefs Miss Gayet sports. Come on Julie, you're gonna be twerking it with Michelle Obama at the White House in two weeks' time! If ever there was a time to get caught in a rebill whitening scam, this is it. And, dear lawd, was that a bad case of armpit rat I saw creeping into her topless pic in The Scum newspaper last week? The razor is your friend, sweetie!