If you read only one interview today containing the line "Chris had problems getting it up", do make sure it's the Sun's elegiac sitdown with Ingrid Tarrant, who, it is fair to say, has yet to "move on" following her split from the Who Wants to Be A Millionaire host.
For those of us who assumed the divorcing Tarrants had already allowed the freshening air of media exposure to course through every piece of their dirty laundry, there is chastening news. Turns out Ingrid's been a-hoardin' a whole basket of the stuff - meticulously labelled "the erectile dysfunction years" - and has been prompted to throw it out of a first floor window after "a pal" of Chris's told the Sunday papers that he had embarked on his marriage-ending infidelity because his wife had imposed a seven year sex-ban upon him.
Fortunately, Ingrid's febrile determination to be the last Tarrant standing is way stronger than trainwreck-averting impulses such as "do the kids really need to read this stuff?", and so it is that we are treated to two double page spreads refuting this claim. The first is headlined "Tarrant was a clumsy lover who couldn't get it up and reeked of fish"; the second "I asked Chris if he'd cheated on me... he hit me in the face".
Yes, it appears that years of toying with nervous members of the public competing to win the equivalent of a twentieth of his personal fortune has resulted in Chris grossly underestimating his enemy on this occasion. Not for nothing did Ingrid spend years honing her strategic skills as a key member of Countdown's Dictionary Corner team; and thus she is now able to turn to the camera with faux-regret and say: "I'm afraid we could only manage six letters. F-L-O-P-P-Y."
As always, it's so hard to play favourites with Ingrid's assertions, but we'll plump for the following trip down memory lane:
"Chris has always had personal hygiene issues. After he has taken a shower in the morning he won't ever wash his hands or anything else for the rest of the day. So by bedtime his hands would be covered in dirt, ink and crusted food.
"This was made even worse by Chris's love of fishing. He would literally jump in next to me reeking of carp, bream and pike. I would beg him to at least wash the dried fish blood from his hands. He would moan and eventually go and wash his hands in BLEACH.
"Often Chris would eat curries with his fingers and there would be vindaloo stains on his hands. It was disgusting and repulsive. Unless he thought I was some old trout he didn't attract me either.
"And he's a mess to live with. I dread to think how he lives now. Probably in quite squalid conditions surrounded by toast and socks."
The image of Tarrant existing half-buried in domestic detritus - like Stig of the Dump only smugger and better remunerated - should bring a tear to each and every one of our eyes. Do join Lost in Showbiz in willing him to surge, Godzilla-like, out of the sea of breadcrumbs and knitwear which threatens to claim him, and respond to Ingrid's barbs in a manner which will ensure this most enchanting of farewells to each other bleeds well into next year.
