The rumours started with the advent of the New Year and by the time February rolled around, they had reached fever pitch. Were the Jolie-Pitts expecting the Jolie-Pitt-er patter of some more little feet?

Now, this rumour in itself is nothing new. The gossipmongers love a possible pregnancy - but when it comes to two of the most photogenic people in Hollywood making babies as a joint production, the rumour mill really goes into overdrive.

If the gossip mags, blogs and entertainment TV shows were to be believed, Angie Jolie would have been giving birth to her thousandth child by now.

But this time, they were right. Good sources, good guess work or are you bound to be right when you just keep saying the same old thing? I'll let you decide.

Angie and Brad stopped the speculation in its tracks when they emerged on the blue carpet at the Independent Spirit Awards in late February - he in a tan jacket with plaid trousers, she in a form-fitting black gown showing off what was undeniably, indisputably a baby bump.

A BABY BUMP!

And, cleverly, the pair debuted said bump the night before the Academy Awards ceremony in LA, conveniently timing it so while they put their feet up at home with the four rugrats, all anyone was talking about on the Oscars red carpet was Angie, Brad and bubs.

And on the stage! Host Jon Stewart made his own apologies for Angelina's absence. "Obviously Angelina couldn't be with us tonight," he quipped. "It's tough getting 17 babysitters on Oscar night."

It was almost enough to make you forget Javier Bardem's horrid No Country For Old Men bowl cut. Almost.

But that wasn't enough for the gossip-hungry public, who devoured the news of a pregnancy like blood-thirsty zombies on an insatiable hunt for more! But they wanted foetuses, not brains. But not to eat. You know what I mean.

Angie and Brad inadvertently added fuel to the fire by refusing to comment on their growing bundle of joy, leading to almost hysterical speculation that There Could Be Twins In There.

I remember thinking Nicole Kidman, who'd not long before announced her pregnancy, would be proper miffed that Angie and Brad came along to steal her thunder. I mean, would anyone really care about a Kidman kid when there were Jolie-Pitts about?

Paris fell, like, so in love. Again.

Paris Hilton put her little brother's continuation of a family tradition, with his own DUI arrest early in the month, aside and kicked off the latest in a long line of Hilton romances.

Two weeks after he called it quits with his Aussie fiancée, Sophie Monk, Good Charlotte rocker Benji Madden was on the arm of the peroxide praying mantis. A thrill I'm sure, for Paris' best friend Nicole Richie, who'd only just had a baby with Benji's twin, Joel.

In typically understated Hilton style, the pair were declared "so in love" after mooching (and smooching) around LA for two weeks. They shopped. They held hands. And we all waited for her to get sick of him, or him to come to his senses. But which would come first?

Gentlemen prefer blondes

An old fella called Bert Stern approached a young lady called Lindsay Lohan with an idea, and in February the results of their collaboration were, er, bared for all to see on the front of New York magazine.

Bert, you see, was the photographer famous for shooting Marilyn Monroe's very last photo shoot before her tragic death in 1962. He approached Lindsay to remake Marilyn's final shoot picture by picture. And they did!

So there was Lindsay, blondie wig perched atop her head, showing her freckly boobies and her tattooed backside in the name of art. Great boobs, not so great a Marilyn. Many starlets have tried the Monroe tribute, and there's really no comparison, is there?

Lindsay's a good actress, but the original Marilyn really is the best. And that blonde do made her look like she should be taking orders for burgers and fries while on roller skates.

"It was very tastefully done," said her mother-manager-enabler Dina Lohan.

Meanwhile Lindsay's movie I Know Who Killed Me, in which the actress played a down on her luck stripper with amnesia (yes, really!) was the big winner at the 2008 Razzie awards. The Razzies, if you don't know, are the antithesis of the Oscars. The Joker to the Oscar's Batman. The peanut butter to the Oscar's jam. The Mary-Kate to the Oscar's Ashley.

The Razzies, or Golden Raspberrys, celebrate the worst in the year's cinema and this year Lindsay's flick had the honour of becoming the most celebrated in Razzie history, beating out both Showgirls and Battlefield Earth. The film won eight awards, among them Worst Film, Worst Actress, and Worst Excuse for a Horror Movie.

And awards season rolled on. George Clooney didn't take home a statue for his role in Michael Clayton, but he did get tongues wagging by turning up to the Oscars with a date. That's right people, A Date. Cocktail waitress turned jet-setting blagger Sarah Larson rocked the red carpet with Clooney, in a vintage Valentino which looked rather quilt-y to me. A whacked out Gary Busey scared the bejesus out of Jennifer Garner in front of a rather disturbed Ryan Seacrest (clip here!) And we all fell in love with a Frenchwoman on top of the world. Marion Cotillard was astounding as Edith Piaf in La Vie en Rose and her Oscar acceptance speech too cute for words.

"Thank you life, thank you love, and it is true; there is some angels in this city."

Meanwhile, Amy Winehouse had her parents, brother, and beehive as support when she won her five Grammy haul via satellite from London. She dedicated her success to "my Blake, my Blake incarcerated."

That saga would run and run throughout the year.

All together now: "Blaaaaaaaaaaaake!"