Chris Hughes 'ready to pop the question' to JoJo Siwa as they make future plans
Chris Hughes is reportedly ready to "pop the question" to JoJo Siwa as their whirlwind romance heats up. The pair met just a few months ago on Celebrity Big Brother and struck up a firm friendship.
Chris and JoJo started off as friends and soon became more when they left the house and JoJo split from her partner, Kath Ebbs. The Love Island star is said to be smitten with JoJo and they are both "besotted" with each other.
"Chris is smitten. He can't believe his luck. He and JoJo have got the most lovely thing going on here. It came from nowhere but they are so in love already – it has happened so quickly," a source said.
"Anyone who knows Chris says that they can see him popping the question at any moment – it has been a whirlwind, a fairytale. The love is real and it is wonderful for anyone who knows Chris to see. She is besotted, too, things are moving very fast."
Chris and JoJo, of course, met on Celebrity Big Brother and formed an unlikely friendship. However, it soon blossomed to more and there is talk that JoJo might make a move to the UK to be with Chris.
"This is the problem when they get an American to take part in a British reality show. People get together but they live so far from one another and it is hard. There is a bit of a dilemma here," the insider told the Mail Online.
"Does Chris move to the States or does JoJo come here? They know they are going to have to make a decision at some point because the thought of being apart from one another for too long is terrifying for them."
JoJo has also been forced to hit back at claims that her relationship with Chris is a publicity stunt. Speaking last month, she said: "I'm sure it's no secret to people, I am in a lovely relationship with a sweet boy named Christopher Hughes."
In another interview, she added: "It's not platonic anymore, and it's been a beautiful development, a beautiful connection, and I'm absolutely head over heels for him and he's the same way.'
When asked about if it was for PR purposes, she hit back: "Clearly, you've never been around us. I won't ever speak for him, but for me personally, the happiness in my life just radiates off of me right now." She added: "Literally yesterday, I was massaging my cheeks; I've never been in pain from smiling so much."
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Daily Mail
2 hours ago
- Daily Mail
Love Island viewers blast Harry for flirting with Helena just after telling Shakira he is 'all for her' in shocking scenes as tense triangle continues
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Spectator
2 hours ago
- Spectator
And now let's bomb Glastonbury
A small yield nuclear weapon, such as the American W89, dropped on Glastonbury in late June would immediately remove from our country almost everybody who is hugely annoying. You would see a marked reduction in the keffiyeh klan, for a start, and all those middle-class Extinction Rebellion protestors would find, in a nanosecond, that their rebellion was pointless, because extinction had arrived even more summarily than they expected. Go on, glue yourselves to that, Poppy and Oliver. Street drummers, liberal politicians, provo vegans, radical rappers, spiritual healers, Billy Bragg, that bloke who owns Forest Green Rovers, druggies, tattooed blue-haired hags, almost the entirety of middle-class London – all evaporated. I am not saying that we should do this, of course – it would be a horrible, psychopathic thing to do. I am merely hypothesising, in a slightly wistful kinda way. One on Glasto, one on Brighton, and the UK would soon begin its recovery, with only a few chunks of gently glowing cobalt 60 left to remind us of what we are missing. One on Glasto, one on Brighton, and the UK would soon begin its recovery The BBC would cease to exist, too. It identifies Glastonbury as an expression of the UK 'coming together', which shows you how much it understands about the country. It has poured millions of pounds of licence-payers' money into its coverage, and 400 staff were there last weekend, including the director-general, Tim Davie. Or at least 400 staff were actually working there – I'll bet another 400 or so were there in their little tents, desperate to surf the vibe or whatever the phrase is. All those people, then, and they still couldn't get it right. Nor should we take seriously their claims that pulling the ridiculous Bob Vylan from air would not be anywhere near as simple as flicking a switch. It is every bit as simple as flicking a switch, in that all they had to do was flick a switch. They had rafts of presenters who could have filled the time, plus cameras at every other stage in the festival site. All it needed was someone with the merest vestige of sentience to make the decision – but, then, this is the BBC we are talking about. Whoever was in charge of output at that moment – almost certainly someone called 'Johnny' or 'Ayesha' – probably just thought the stuff about the IDF was 'top bants'. In truth, I am not much worked up about the Bob Vylan (or Kneecap) stuff, per se. They were only doing what an endless list of hip young musicians have done at every summer festival going all the way back to Country Joe McDonald and 'one-two-three-four what are we fighting for?' – i.e., channelling infantile far-left agitprop devoid of nuance and context to an audience of gullible drongos. The difference is that the BBC decided to cover it, thinking – as it unquestionably does – that the majority of the country would be cheerfully humming along with Bob Vylan's tuneful music and are entirely down with the sentiments expressed. That is the BBC's real crime. It is worth a brief digression here on the nature of protest songs, of rock musicians playing politics and whether they have an effect or not. The BBC would argue that they do have an effect, that they tap into a perhaps previously unexpressed sentiment among the wider public and hence herald great change. Au contraire. In the mid- to late-1960s, the more protest songs and festival chants there were, the further to the right swung the rest of the electorate. As evidence, I would point you in the direction of Richard Nixon's comprehensive victory in 1968 and then, after Country Joe had done his stuff at Woodstock, a landslide in 1972. They all seriously believed McGovern was going to win that one, so wrapped up inside their radical bubble were they all (including the broadcasters). All those youthful protests of the 1960s resulted in surprise victories for the right at the polls a few years later – in the UK with Ted Heath in 1970, in France with an unexpected win for Pompidou in 1969, and of course the USA. The more fervently they insist that they are right, the more likely it is that the rest of the country will tell them to get stuffed. I suppose it is possible that Bob Vylan will do for Tim Davie, the DG – although he is the least of the corporation's problems, frankly. He knows he has a workforce which, in its arrogance, subscribes to a set of political beliefs unshared by the people who pay for its existence. And it is so endemic that there is nothing he can do about it. One little thing I noticed: the BBC News dutifully covered the Bob Vylan debacle and did so even handedly. But on every single occasion, on radio and TV, the story was immediately followed by a report of Israeli 'atrocities' in Gaza. Every single time. Do you think that is an accident? There was a programme on BBC Radio 4 on Monday, as part of the 'Currently' series, about Louise Lancaster, an environmental protestor who was finally (on her fifth conviction) handed down a four-year sentence (later reduced to three years) for organising a protest which seriously inconvenienced hundreds of thousands of people. You would be hard-pressed to find a more egregiously biased example of broadcasting. Lancaster – a middle-class teacher from Grantchester – was portrayed as a kind of saint, suffering state persecution for her entirely valid beliefs. The Sun and Daily Mail were mentioned disparagingly and every action taken by Lancaster lauded. The BBC decided first to commission this rubbish and then put it out. Can you imagine it doing a similar piece about Lucy Connolly? Not a chance. That is the real problem with the BBC. It is utterly incapable of recognising the bias it displays every day on an hourly basis, no matter how often that bias is pointed out. Bob Vylan, frankly, is the least of it.
Spectator
3 hours ago
- Spectator
‘Boldness was his friend in betting and in life': A tribute to the great Barry Hills
I have always enjoyed Royal Windsor Racecourse, as it styles itself. It may not have quite so many dignitaries popping in from the castle up the road as Royal Ascot does, but it has long been famed for its friendliness and approachability. Jockeys moving from the weighing room to join their mounts under the parade ring trees pick their way between picnics and the Pimm's and Caribbean cocktail outlets, readily pausing for autographs. In times long past, a former clerk of the course once responded to jockeys complaining about the cold autumn changing room by bringing in a bottle of whisky from the Stewards' Room. Watching young Olivia Tubb win the opening apprentice handicap for Johnny Portman with a tidy ride on Prima Diva reminded me of Dean McKeown's experience at a similar stage of his career. Having led all the way to win on the 33-1 shot Miss Merlin, he told me he was mystified to be called in by the Windsor stewards. The well-backed horse he had beaten into second was ridden by one Lester Piggott, who had persuaded the authorities that Miss Merlin had 'intimidated his horse', and Lester was awarded the race. Afterwards the public idol turned to Mc-Keown and told him: 'You learned something today, son. Bullshit beats brains.' He could have had a political career. Of Saturday's winners, both Billy Loughnane on George Boughey's Amorim and Cieren Fallon on William Haggas's Tenability were confident they had been on decent horses with more to come, but perhaps the most enjoyed win of the afternoon was Rossa Ryan's success on Wisper, trained by the ever-courteous Alan King. Hearing after the race that Wisper had also won the best-turned-out prize, Alan declared: 'Thank God they didn't announce that before the race. I always fear it is the kiss of death.' The cheerful Wisper syndicate is led by former Lambourn trainer Michael Blanshard, and before his retirement you could always rely on Michael having a spate of winners in July. The former Lambourn trainer whose name dominated racing's weekend, however, was Barry Hills, who has died at 88. Back in 2010, interrupted by his ongoing battle with cancer, I managed to persuade him to let me write his biography, Frankincense and More, named after his extraordinary betting coup on the 1968 Lincoln winner. Backing it for weeks, he won enough to buy Lester Piggott's father's Lambourn stable and set out on a training career that netted him 3,181 British winners. Starting as a head lad's son with no silver spoon, Barry was not just a superb trainer of racehorses, with a dozen Classic winners and a Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe with Rheingold to his credit, he was the epitome of the self-made man and founder of a much-respected racing dynasty. Of his five sons, John, who sadly died of cancer in 2014, and Charlie have both been highly successful trainers. George is in the horse insurance business and twins Richard and Michael each rode approaching 2,000 winners as leading jockeys. One of Barry's achievements, alongside his great friend Robert Sangster, was bringing the supreme US rider Steve Cauthen to Britain. Barry and his wife, Penny, treated the American superstar like family, but even Cauthen occasionally had to suffer Barry's brusquer side, which earned him the nickname Mr Grumpy. Cauthen told me once of the day Penny asked him to take over her usual role of driving them to Nottingham. Normally she would drive with him alongside her, and Barry in the back reading the Sporting Life and smoking a cigar. 'I had very little experience of smaller English roads,' Steve told me. 'I kept pulling out to get by trucks and swerving back in again. I didn't quite know how to kick the Merc in the belly. Penny looked nervously behind them but there wasn't a word from Barry. The comment was saved for when we got to the track. B. Hills climbed out and said: 'I hope you give my horses a better fucking ride than you've just given me.'' Most of those who've asked me over the years about Barry have wanted to know about his ability to get one over the bookmakers. Basically, he told me, he kept things simple. 'I rarely back other people's horses. Sometimes I don't feel I know enough about my own… You can't win backing bad horses, because most bad horses have a problem – they bleed or they won't do it or they need blinkers. You're better off backing one good horse against other good horses than a bad one against other bad horses.' And it was better to back in the second half of the season when there was more form in the book. Finally: 'Never bet odds-on. Never back each-way. And don't be frightened of a long price – the longer the odds, the more you should have on.' Boldness was his friend in betting and in life.
