For many people, their? interest in John Travolta began and ended with his starring role in the disco-dancing, parent-upsetting, tight-panted 1970s movie Saturday Night Fever.
These people have no desire to learn more about The Trav’s later career as a man looking after a talking baby, or a man who carries around a briefcase full of Christmas lights, or a man who swaps faces with the wooden-faced Jodie Foster impersonator Nicholas Cage.
But we can’t all be rational adults with problem-strewn lives of our own and no time for monitoring the affairs of yesteryear’s celebrities.
Which is good news for hecklerspray, as today we report that John Travolta’s wife, Kelly Preston, may or may not be about to squeeze out a Scientologically-enriched sprogling. Oh, the excitement/slight interest/almost painful need to escape this bullshit.
Here’s the deal: earlier this week, reputable British gossip magazine The Daily Mail broke the news that John Travolta was flying his enormous penis-shaped plane out of Australia earlier than expected. The reason? Because, they explained, his wife – Kelly Preston – had gone into labour.
While the Mail were explicitly told at the time by a spokesman that this wasn’t true, they decided to run with it anyway. After all: who gives a monkeys about the the veracity of a story concerning the fourth most important actor in Get Shorty?
Well, now it turns out that the whole thing was a sack of balls: Kelly Preston is still pregnant, the Scientology lovechild is still hanging in there, and John Travolta flew home from Australia because…well, we don’t know. Because he grew sick of drinking awful beer?
Let’s see if the Mail can help out:
Mr Travolta had been due to arrive in Perth as the main celebrity at a charity event, at which he was to receive the key to the city from Lord Mayor Lisa Scaffidi.