Not wanting to get in the way of the greatest love story the world has ever seen, Lost in Showbiz has kept quiet about this until now. But having waved Coleen and Wayne fondly on their married way into the happily ever after, it's time to come clean.
Mrs Rooney, your new husband is not the man you thought.
Last week, I heard from an old friend who had recently returned from a trip to Ibiza in the company of some disreputable types she's recently taken up with. Well employed, doing real jobs rather than writing about tittle tattle - rather more like you, dear readers, than like us here in the bunker - they're sensible, serious minded and hard-working. And they rented the house next to the one taken by Wayne and his friends for his stag night.
So picture this. It's 4am, my friend and her housemates are dancing around a bit, playing some music, sharing a bottle of wine or two. The sort of thing you do in Ibiza on holiday from your sensible job. There comes a knock on the door. Nobody hears. Tap tap. It continues. Eventually someone pulls himself out of the hot tub (I'm embroidering slightly here, to set the scene a little more fully than it was set for me), leaves his glass of wine on the kitchen counter and, wrapping a towel around him, wanders to the door. There, looking a bit tousle haired and bleary eyed stands a friend of Wayne.
Can you guess? They wanted the music turned down, because it was disturbing their sleep.
