2001-08-07 - 6:57 p.m.

�One time in LA, he bought some 700 dollar shades��

Gail Porter, Liv Tyler, Minnie Driver - besides having surnames associated with manual labour, they're all due to become blushing brides in a summer swarm of celebrity weddings. The star-studded hitch-fest has an eclectic role-call, from the globular charms of Pamela Anderson to geek-chic smarm of David Schwimmer to the bi-polar barm of Sinead O'Connor. The pages of Hello! and OK! will be brimming with high profile couplings, and there'll be many a chip supper wrapped around the cheesy nuptials of Mikey Graham (you know - the straight one from Boyzone) and Karen Corradi ('dancer girlfriend', as I'm sure she's chuffed to be known).

But why all the hype? For mere mortals, the wedding day is a chance to feel like a celebrity, but non-stop photos and ghastly posh frocks just mean another day at the showbiz office for your famous types. Sure, they can indulge some of their more bizarre deity fantasies - who can forget the Beckhams and the pompous regal tack of their glitzy thrones? - but being the centre of attention is pretty much ALL celebs do. Once the photo rights have been sold, you think they care about what colour tea towels to put on the gift list? They're far too busy prepping every docile, grinning entertainment correspondent within faxing distance about the secret location of the ceremony.

�Lady selling pizza, in Chicago international. He sees her getting older, and bigger by the year��

Handy accessories for the celebrity wedding are twofold. Firstly, a celebrity partner of equal standing. Pammy A and Kid Rock (international white trash whores), Minnie Driver and Josh Brolin (semi-recognisable thespians mostly watched on video), Bryan McFadden and Kerry Katona (tortured, creative nuclei of Westlife and Atomic Kitten respectively). Secondly, the presence of pre-born infants can up the media interest no end - as Brooklyn Beckham and Lourdes Ciccone surely prove, a well-dressed, well-placed little mewler is great for drawing attention away from embarrassing parents. I'm sure Dido will be wishing for a diversionary infant when they read out her real name of Florian Cloud De Bounevialle. Ouch.

Joe and Joanne Public love to think every star trip down the aisles could be the celebrity knot that lasts longer than it takes for the ink on the pre-nup agreement to dry. Sure, there's the obvious ill-advised mismatches: Drew Barrymore marrying that welsh barman, Elton John marrying - but mostly we're filled with optimism that Brad 'n' Jen or Liv Tyler and Royston Langdon (what do you mean, you've never heard of the guitarist from Spacehog?) will be sharing a publicist for the rest of their days. It's easy to forget how fast it goes, though - it only seems like yesterday that Gail Porter (Americans insert your own talentless wastrels here and have fun with the joke) was all over the lads mags espousing the joy of celibacy, then before you can say 'plummeting television career', she's got her finger in the ring of the guitarist from Toploader. You can already see Donna Air and Kelly Brook fighting over the bouquet.

�The cool people know who the cool people are�cool people know how to play the guitar.�

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