Chris Titley

There are two stages to celebrity. Stage one is when you would do anything to get in the papers. Stage two is when you would do anything to stay out of them.

Take the case of Miss Emma Noble. For the sake of any High Court judges who are reading this: she is a former glamour model who adorned a popular television game show contest, m'luds.

In her wild, young days Miss Noble, 27, would consider any stunt if it attracted publicity.

She posed half naked in the tabloid press, told a filthy joke to Bruce Forsyth in order to be selected for The Price is Right and, most shockingly of all, became engaged to the heir of underpants-wearer and one-time Prime Minister John Major.

This brought her notoriety aplenty. So naturally the topless model turned her back on the photographers upon whose work she had built her "career".

Emma suddenly became a serious actor. Although she had no drama training or acting experience, theatrical producers saw something in the curvy blonde that convinced them that she was ripe for the stage.

Certainly her appearance in Popcorn helped perk up interest in the show when it came to York's Grand Opera House last November.

But by then she was playing silly beggars with the press: she and her fianc James Major refused to be pictured together.

At the weekend, Emma and James tied the knot. You might have thought that this cause for national rejoicing would have been played out in the full glare of publicity.

But the happy couple employed heavies to bundle photographers away from the nuptial celebrations.

They had hawked the exclusive rights to their most precious memories to the highest bidder, and so their public vows of love had to be taken behind closed doors. Happily, however, the British press is the most intrusive in the world.

So without having to buy the magazine, we already know that Emma wore white, James wore a suit and his old man wore a new pair of specs.

There were two wedding cakes (sponge for James, traditional fruit for Emma) and John and Norma hit the dance floor to Le Freak by Chic. And we can guess that Mr Major senior said "I'm not inconsiderably proud", before tucking into a plate of garden peas.

This is far from the only occurrence of a formerly publicity-mad celeb becoming obsessively coy. Spice Girl Mel B's wedding was another ridiculous cloak-and-dagger affair thanks to a magazine deal.

And this week the full scope of Tom Cruise and wife Nicole Kidman's paranoia about privacy emerged. They force staff to sign contracts subjecting them to a $1 million fine for revealing confidential information.

Mind you, we should expect this sort of behaviour from Nicole, a woman so private that she spent weeks taking her kit off every night in front of West End audiences.

All these egos were once desperate to attract our attention.

But having aroused our interest, they now want to control and manipulate it. Perhaps they might consider hiring a public relations professional adept at keeping embarrassing revelations out of the tabloids.

Unfortunately, Sophie Rhys-Jones is no longer available. GOODHALL Street is in Willesden, London. But it has become a favourite film backdrop because it is said to resemble a northern street. Harry Enfield has performed sketches there, British Gas shot an advert there, even Our Friends In The North was filmed there (perhaps it should have been called Our Friends In The North Of London).

All because it was cheaper than trailing up the motorway to the real thing.

To the southern eye, Goodhall Street may pass for Yorkshire. But it certainly looks nothing like the terraced streets near me.

There are no teenage drivers tearing down it at 50mph; no broken glass in the gutter; and no irksome signs in the windows declaring imperiously: "No parking. Own car."

2/06/99

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.