The Royal We

"They ended our testimony early."

—Plaintiff in a case being heard in room 71, sixth floor, Metro Courthouse, downtown Los Angeles

According to a witness who claims she was just hauled outta the courtroom that Kiefer Sutherland and "a ton of DAs" subsequently filed into, Mr. S—who was pulling that Hell-Ay no-no of drinking and driving and who just got sentenced to the 48 days in jail he was anticipating—appeared "okay, but kind of weird, like he was being ushered into a premiere, or something."

Well, aren't courtrooms and jails—with always overly cushioned entrances and exits—the latest openings to be seen at? And why let the little folks finish with their legal biz, when the erring flavors o' the month are sent to their penances? For ince, did Paris have to wait to make a phone call in jail? Nope (other, less famous, jailbirds did, however). Can't wait to see how the rest of Kiefy-babe's Glendale behind-bars time goes. Have the feeling this is only the beginning of the same-old movie-star double-standard two-step in T-town. Stay (quasi-sober) tuned, 'kay?

Is Ellen DeGeneres straight crushing on T.R. Knight? Sounds like it! And did Ricky Martin's puss pamperer really say what he said about his famous client? Darlings, no! Plus, Keira Knightley fails to impress with her dress, Heather Mills keeps her snotty title and Eva Longoria reigns party supreme!

“The gayer you get, the cuter you get.”

—Mondo homosexual talk-show host Ellen DeGeneres to T.R. Knight (recently outed, now mondo homo actor), at Hell-Ay’s annual Cracked Xmas fundraiser for the Trevor Project

You heard about Trevor, right? It’s a crisis helpline for youths questioning their sexual orientation. You know, if you’re young and gay, and you want to avoid the shaming, Larry Craig sitch in life—maybe you’re more the speed of a proud, bitchin’ Portia de Rossi?—but you’re having trouble accepting it all, call Trevor. They’re there to help. And they're good at it. Ellen got an award Sunday night. No, surely not for doing the doggy two-step through her Iggy-gate sitch, but for a life achievement nod. Ryan Seacrest was set to show his support, but he got called away. Jessica Simpson must have been calling with an update on Joe’s, I mean, her romance with Tony Romo. Regardless, Ms. D certainly deserves the accolades. Members of the Writers Guild may not think the broad’s worthy of bupkes right now, but I disagree. Coming out in Hollywood and swimming those snark-infested waters is not easy. Idiot crabs like Isaiah Washington see to this fact, natch. Now, add a skin-care specialist named Ole Henriksen to the list of snapping-type fishies entering the ever-increasing sea of swish (I know, I know, look who's gabbing). You read the Danish paper Nyhedsavisen, don’t you? We do, every day! So, we’re sure you caught the recent edition in which Henriksen, über-priced pamperer to the stars, sexually dances round our fave "La Vida" va-va-voomer. When asked who he'd spend a romantic vacay with other than his partner, Henriksen replied: "I'd go for Stig Tøfting [former Danish soccer player], but since he's straight, I'd say my client Ricky Martin.” Say it ain’t so, Mr. H! Or are my Danish translators incorrect in the above? And how many dollars has Ricky doled out to you for help with his Cameron Diaz-esque skin? Mucho. Not a very nice way to return the behavior.   Oh, the holiday season (or all the fagola gab above, not sure which) musta put us in the giving mood, because we’re giving you a bonus Blind Vice this week! Look for these little installments to be sprinkled throughout the column here 'n’ there when we’re in the mood for sharing. Another reason being there’s just too much friggin’ clandestine carousing going on in this town to keep our naughty tallying to just once a week. Dimply Pimply stars on a long-running hit show on a cable network for kids, but in real life he’s got some not-so-parent-friendly vices goin’ on. Pimply’s actually a huge-ass stoner and often throws late-night parties at his plush pad with piles of weed for the taking. Wonder if the network execs know about his smelly habit? We’re willing to guess they wouldn’t be pleased. But we also assume the bosses, who have surely gotten a whiff of things at this notorious point, are also just too busy praying D.P. doesn’t head on to the hard stuff. And we don’t just mean dating Lindsay Lohan. Like anybody cares, but we’re hearing from stiff-butt Brit sources who actually study such things that when Heather Mills is finally divorced from Sir Paul McCartney—unless she offs herself first, her doomsday thought, not ours—the following foolishness will occur: She will still be able to address herself (like anybody else would bother) as Lady Heather. This would be until Heather-poo remarries or legally takes her own name back.

I’m sure the Princess Di clone will soon be on to her next class-conscious chap, so not to overly worry, eh? And when the hell is this country going to start getting some kind of titled system under works, to be awarded by the prez each year, just like Queen Liz does with her subjects? Hillary can start if off! It’ll be all American Idol-like, hosted in the Capitol Rotunda, and we can have awards and titles for best outted star, best homeless shelter provider, best pet saver, and so forth.

Okay, hope my bronchitis clears up, I’m taking too much cold medicine. Eva Longoria, being a social butterfly—this is such the stunning news flash. Eva-babe, along with seven gal-pals and stylist Robert Verdi, hit Tenjune in New Yawk Friday night for some drinks and dancing. Mrs. Longoria-Parker, who was lookin’ caliente in A/X gold-brushed jeans and a white jacket, was later joined by Christina Applegate, Lance Bass and his beau, and Jamie-Lynn Sigler. Shorty stud Kevin Connolly was also hangin’ at the same haunt, and sent over a round of shots to their gonzo group. Bottoms up, babydolls! Nonimbibing types across town included… Julianna Margulies, having dinner Saturday at the Stanton Social on the Lower East Side. The newlywed and very pregnant gal “looks better in person than on television,” according to one quasi-bitchy onlooker. Jul, in a black dress and smoky eye makeup, seemed “lovely and affectionate” as she grubbed with a group of amigos. Not as warm and tender of an appraisal was given to… Rex Lee, chowing in Chelsea. The Entourage dude was spotted at Omai, a chic, low-key Vietnamese joint, with three friends on Friday night. “He’s bigger in person and has quite a wide head,” reported one fellow forker, who said they were actually distracted from dining by R.L.'s “large” noggin. Maybe it’s just because Rex has such a big brain inside that loomin’ dome of his? Just as surprising was a cameo from… Snoop Dogg, giving an impromptu performance at the opening of Touch. Reverend Run was deejaying at the club’s opening, and E!'s newest reality star hit the stage to do two songs. “He gave a sick performance!” marveled one feel-good witness. Also hanging in the packed house was Princess Charlotte of Monaco. Rap and royalty, what more could you want? Uh, maybe just a little slobbering, a little tongue, too, you say? Sorry, Brit-Brit wasn’t around.