The tabloids are a strange thing.

They have, mercifully, avoided sensational, screaming headlines about Rihanna's grim beating, reportedly at the hands of her own boyfriend, fellow singer Chris Brown.

Not that his alleged choking and punching of his girlfriend haven't racked up the column inches. All one can hope comes out of this post-Grammy nightmare is that it helps other women get out of abusive relationships.

On the other end of the spectrum of tab wisdom, though, is the, uh, renowned OK! mag's big, brightly-coloured, over-capitalised headline shouting at us that: "The Brangelina Kids Have Gone Wild!"

What — they're roaming the streets alone? They're charging about the Brangelina chateau unfed and unwashed? They've all contracted scurvy?

Well, no, these small children were running around joyfully in the hall of London's exclusive Dorchester Hotel, while mummy and daddy were at the BAFTA Awards. Quelle horreur! Oh, and they had a nanny with them at the time.

So, sure, some super-fun fellow patrons called the concierge to complain, but 'gone wild'? Show me a pack of six little kids who don't tear about while emitting high-pitch squeals, and I'll explain to you how you've in fact stumbled on the Brangelina exhibit at Madame Tussaud's.

You know, almost as deceptive as those pointless celebrity waxworks, is endlessly vapid-seeming singer-cum-actress-cum-fashion designer Mandy Moore. Ooh, wait — that last just got lopped off her appellation.

Dry your eyes, fair reader... Yes, her clothing line is going under — but, while you will no longer be able to dress yourself in Mandy, there will be, I am grindingly certain, more than enough Moore impinging on the world still.

So, farewell dreams of following in the footsteps of Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen (speaking of — haven't those two tiny twins been blessedly off the radar lately?). But, hello ceaseless coverage of Mand's engagement.

Moore's reportedly just got a-fiancéd to the actually very damn good singer Ryan Adams (not to be confused with Bryan). That's lovely, Mandy — if a little surprising, considering that the two of you broke up last year, and that just this previous September you were back with your ex (and Nicole Richie's ex-fiancé) Adam 'DJ AM' Goldstein.

Then again, perhaps that brief rekindling was just a momentary flare-up of old feeling after DJ AM narrowly evaded death in a plane crash.

Why I say Moore is deceptive, though, is because, well, Ryan Adams is a genuinely decent, non-pretty-boy musician, as opposed to some flakey poplet or celeb barnicle like most of the musos celeb women seem to marry.

That, and Mandy did star in the wry, religious satire 'Saved!', which almost makes me think she's not entirely as gormless as implied by her turn in the shudder-inducing 'A Walk to Remember' — the filmic equivalent of the kind of tepid watercolour you find hanging in your doctor's waiting room.

Enough Moore, though — we must push on to another exciting young celeb... Leonardo DiCaprio's supermodel girlfriend (no, Gisele Bunchen was ages ago, if that's who you're thinking. He's now with the indistinguishably totally different supermodel Bar Refaeli).

Bar is excited.

'What has exercised this great mind?' you ask. Well, for one, this woman is the lucky bikini-wearer who'll be on the cover of this year's Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition. Fellow supermodels eat your hearts out. (No eating anything else if you want a shot at the 2010 cover.)

And, what's more, there's now a massive image of Refaeli on the side of a plane. A new Southwest Airlines plane, to be exact. Why have they emblazoned this young lovely on their aircraft? I just can't see to summon the interest to investigate that, I'm afraid.

• What trainwreck is Courtney love dating? See page 2...