From a horse-drawn carriage in Central Park with Tom Cruise, David Beckham made his way to a decidedly less glamorous Auckland last week and left the city's ladies all a-flutter. Is it all about Becks in the mags this week? Well, not really, since he's already left the country, but that doesn't stop the Woman's Day from putting the hot to trot football player on their cover.

The mag breathlessly reports on David's trip to our fair city. Want to know what he got up to?

He got a rousing welcome at the airport and attended a charity bash on Thursday night. He went to the gym. He darkened the doors of Magnum and Sale St. He only weighs a lightweight 77kg. The consensus is that he looked tired the whole time. He shopped in Newmarket, and attended an ‘invitation-only event' for 150 people "including socialites Gilda Kirkpatrick and Aja Rock." Not quite Tom Cruise and Will Smith, are they?

Some girl from McLeod's Daughters met him, and raves on about it.

"This is one of the nicest places I've visited," David told the mag. I think anywhere might be nice when you grew up in Leytonstone.

Still on the Beckhams, the NW reports Katie Holmes and Victoria Beckham are chums once more - although they don't look thrilled about it judging by the mag's accompanying pics. Katie's snapped wearing a grey cardie, the kind you'd mope around the house in when you have your period. Their falling out was all Tom Cruise's fault, apparently.

I always need a scapegoat! I'm going to start blaming Tom Cruise for more stuff. Stubbed my toe? Tom Cruise. Bank balance in rapid decline? Tom Cruise. Hangover? Damn you, Tom Cruise!

Tom thought Victoria was a bad influence on his slave, I mean, wife. Posh may eat like a bird and dress like a withered show pony, but she does have a mind of her own and isn't afraid to express it.

"Tom blamed Posh for turning his girl next door into this glamazon and vowed to put a stop to it."

Yes! I can't imagine who'd want the horrendousness of a glamorous wife. That must have been awful for him.

Woman's Day boast the interview that ran in People mag last week with Kevin Federline, skip it if you read that already. He makes himself sound like St Kevin of Federline, Holy Father of the Year, as he poses with the two kids that actually make him some money.

There's confusion now in the Federline breakup legend, as Kevin spouts the popular line that she dumped him, while Britney says he gave her the one way ticket to Dumpsville. Please, don't let her be telling the truth. I can't imagine the mortification of being dumped by K-Fed.

"I would spend every last dime that I had to make sure my children are okay," says he. I assume he's talking about ‘every last dime' of the money he gets from Britney.

And apparently he's reinventing himself as a "children's fashion designer." What happened to his rap career and that song for the ages, ‘Popozao'? Take a watch of this blast from the past on YouTube to remind yourself why Kevin Federline staying away from the mic is a good thing.

I like the little blurb "Adding comments has been disabled for this video" underneath. YouTube probably couldn't handle the sheer volume of the word ‘douchebag' on one page.

All the mags have stuff on Gordon Ramsay's Welsh tart who prompts no end of foodie puns. His bit on the side. His cherry on top. The cream in his coffee. His saucy bird. You get my drift.

Among other things, professional ho-bag Sarah Symonds (who still lives at home with her parents in Wales) shares that she used to refer to Ramsay as ‘big boy.'

Blegh! Do people really say that outside of soft porn scripts?

"My relationship with Gordon is probably the reason their 12-year-marriage has lasted this long. A mistress keeps a marriage going," blabs the strumpet.

New Idea has the run down of the Symonds' second instalment of the smutty story she sold to News of the World if you're interested.

Jessica Simpson's got the baby blues! The failed pop star turned country crooner has a bad case of the green-eyed monster since the birth of her new nephew, sister Ashlee's son Bronx Mowgli, reports NW. Jessica, just buy him Baby's First Guyliner and suck it up. That kid is gonna need all the help he can get when other kids start taking the mickey out of his name.

‘Brad and Ange Set To Wed' shouts the Weekly, seemingly on the premise that Angie Jolie stepped out in a white dress. Can I just say Angelina Jolie is a hot mama with a banging body and an unlimited bank account, so why does she always dress like an old lady?

I mean, she's not at the Katie Holmes old-lady stage yet, but she's only in her early thirties. You never see her wearing jeans - her entire wardrobe seems to be slacks and sensible flats and shift dresses in shades of black or grey. She dresses like an office temp. I mean, I'm no Kate Moss myself, but yawn!

Anyway. Friends expect the pair to tie the knot ‘sometime' next year. You know the drill. Don't hold your breath. But it really must be true love if Angie still fancies Brad with that slug moustache creeping across his top lip.

Speaking of our Angie, word in the NW is that she is not happy about a New York Times expose painting her as a master manipulator of the new media and her own image. They say she's told porkie pies about everything from life as a single mother, to giving up work to her diet and exercise regime.

Is it a case of liar liar, sensible slacks on fire?

The article also reveals that Angelina lured Brad away from Jennifer Aniston by filming their Mr and Mrs Smith love scenes completely starkers!

‘Hollywood Bodyguards Tell All' leads the NW, and this is the muck I like. Mary-Kate gets her kit off! Paris steals shoes! Tom Cruise makes his wife get a mannish haircut! Julia Roberts steers clear of the shower! ("She often gets musty," says the mag); Angelina Jolie's a ‘closet diva' and likes to throw knives! Lindsay Lohan lives like a pig, and Britney, apparently, is a fantasist.

"She thought that unicorns were real and lived somewhere in New Zealand, but that they were an endangered species."

This could happen. Possibly if you'd ingested New Zealand magic mushrooms first.

The Weekly wants you to know this week that new Prime Minister John Key and his wife, Bronagh, are just like you and me. Except they live in a whopping great Parnell mansion, a stone's throw from the Yahoo!Xtra offices. He makes tea! She looks regal in a vivid purple. And pink. And green. He sports man makeup.

The Weekly also has pics from Mel B's wedding outside Hurghada, Egypt. Lucky it was held out of town, because I've been there and Hurghada is one big, manky dustbowl. The bride wore Monique Lhullier. The groom wore a Ralph Lauren suit - "although he revealed he had leopard-print Speedos on underneath."

Why would you wear your togs under your wedding garb? I'm assuming he meant jocks.

Gag.

I don't think anyone's surprised that Ivana Trump's fourth marriage has gone belly up after only eight months. Least of all Ivana. Thank god she used the Donald's lawyers to write her watertight pre-nup. But onwards and upwards for the beehived Czech! She's already been spotted in Paris with a 22-year-old model, who I'm sure is not at all after the publicity.

"I have not lost my love for marriage," says the woman known as Ivana Zelníčková Syrovatka Trump Mazzuchelli Rubicondi.

What's one more surname to add to that list? Get yourself an even half dozen, Ivana!

And that's all from the mags this week!