Amal Clooney is ‘the Mensa member’s crumpet,’ proclaims top fashionista

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Doughty Street barrister makes other celebs look ‘naff’

Barrister and human rights expert Amal Clooney is “the Mensa member’s crumpet”, according to an influential fashion journalist.

A new article by the acting fashion editor at The Times flies in the face of criticism launched by Jan Moir, Daily Mail columnist, that Clooney is a “knock-kneed” over-dresser. By contrast, journalist Hattie Crisell has more praise for the Doughty Street Chambers barrister than you can shake a stick at.

If being described as more mysterious and alluring than Angelina Jolie wasn’t enough of a Clooney thumbs up, Crisell then says the Oxford law grad is “so confidently accomplished that she makes the title ‘movie star’ seem naff”.

Ex-Sullivan & Cromwell lawyer Clooney clearly has fashionista Crisell on side — and it seems the greats of the make-up world are fawning over her too. Vogue contributing editor Charlotte Tilbury recently told her Instagram following she was getting “the mesmerising Amal Clooney ready for the red carpet”.

“A few years ago, you wouldn’t have predicted [Tilbury would] be flying to Venice to apply lipstick to a lawyer,” comments former Vogue journo Crisell.

We do agree Clooney’s accession from little-known junior barrister to “red carpet style icon” is astounding. This has of course been helped along by her marriage to perhaps the most famous actor and coffee salesman in Hollywood. But Clooney, Crisell argues, is not simply a woman famous for wedding a successful man.

“[T]he truth is that Amal is more of an icon than a celebrity,” she says, “as enigmatic and untouchable as the stars of the old Hollywood studios.” But perhaps our favourite line in the flattering article — which made it to the front page of The Times — is this:

In the years before Amal, I’d have categorised George as the thinking woman’s crush: charismatic and handsome, but also politically engaged and an intelligent film director. Now that we know his wife, a whole new category has to be invented: she is the Mensa member’s crumpet.

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Fashion Victim who loves LC for its glamourous fashion and celebrity articles.




You’d look nice in a low cut top too Katie. Try it for your next LC photo opportunity.



Can we get a pop-art style palette of hair colour options too. Redhead, brunette, alternating stripes etc. If we can’t find out how much the LC staff are paid we should at least be able to accessorise them.



I reckon Katie King would eat a crumpet 6 days’ past the use by date for a tenner.


Katie King

*A fiver



“But Clooney, Crisell argues, is not simply a woman famous for wedding a successful man”

If she hadn’t wed Clooney, no-one would know her at all.

So yes, that is exactly what she is!


sour grapes

self – serving vanity and self – promotion
bag a rich man it will certainly open doors
looks are everything it will certainly open doors
mediocre professional track record



Looks?? … horse…



Do you know what her track record is? Because it is certainly not mediocre!


Frustrated Writer

Katie was used to Alex arriving at the office the worse for wear. Normally, upon arriving at the small, dingy office, Alex would immediately offer Tom and Katie with a forced greeting, which would be too cheerful and enunciated to be natural. Katie had long realised that it was made in the manner she had done as a teenager after drinking cider at the park with her school mates, when she did not want her parents to know she was drunk when she got home. Much like the teenage Katie, Alex would invariably turn to the small toilet that was adjoining the office kitchenette, and the next sounds to fill the office would be the slamming of a door followed by violent retching.

Today was different though. Katie, alone in the office and busy reading Linkedin and Instagram, trawling for anything to make into a story, listening to the latest Ed Sheeran album on her earphones, was startled to look up and see Alex lurching from the door to the office, meandering towards the toilet without his characteristic greeting. Something was off, Katie concluded. Before she had time to say anything though, Alex had disappeared and she heard only the slam of the toilet door. There was no vomit sounds at all today. Katie debated for a second whether she should follow her boss to find out what was wrong. She knew that she had to, at least to look like she cared, but on the other hand, she had just found a juicy story about Amal. It was a quote from someone she could call an “influential fashion journalist”, whatever that meant. That was her favourite type of article of all, and she knew it would only be a matter of time after publishing it that OK!, Hello, Heat, and the rest would be demanding her services. The only shame was that Alex would never allow such an article, as there was no law in it at all. She hoped he was out of it again so she could get him to agree to anything.

After typing a few lines, letting out a frustrated sigh and pulling out her earphones, Katie gingerly passed through the grubby, tea cup strew kitchenette, and approached the toilet door.

“Alex, you ok?” she called, without conviction, knocking lightly at the thin wooden toilet door.

There was a moment of silence, which was long enough for Katie to wonder if she would have to force the door open again. She momentarily wished Tom was in the office. Katie had yet to forgive him, but he had his uses. He usually shouldered the door open like a battering ram when Alex passed out in there.

A shaky, halting voice eventually came weakly through the door. “Yes, I’m fine. Get back to work, OK?”.

Katie was about to comply when she remembered the gem of an article she had brewing. “Are you sure boss?”. Alex liked being called boss, so Katie only called him that when she wanted to butter him up.

“Yes. I’m fine”. Katie was sure she heard a sob, but figured she had ticked the sympathy box, so went back to her desk.

It wasn’t long before Alex emerged, looking untidy and unkempt, even by his standards. He collapsed into the large green 1970s-era sofa in the corner of the office, a cloud of dust enveloping him as he hit the tired upholstery, closing his eyes and lifting one wrist to his forehead. After a minute he let out a series of loud snores indicating he was passed out.

Katie rolled her eyes. She could do without the drama. She just wanted to get her Amal gold out there before the Mail did. That would teach them for rejecting her repeated job applications.

“Alex, can I ask you something?”. There was no response but a low mumbling. “Alex?” Katie asked again, getting up from her swivel chair, and slowly approaching him.

As she neared him with a quizzical look on her face, Katie could make out the slurred words he was repeating in a sorrowful tone: “He won’t write for me.. He won’t be Not Amused… He won’t write for me..”.

“Who’s he? Tom?” Katie asked, now intrigued and interested for the first time.

Alex spluttered a laugh. “Not him, silly, the other guy. The Legal Cheek Reporter. He won’t help me. He won’t be Not Amused”.

Katie was taken aback. She had so many questions. She’d always been told by Alex that he wrote all the articles under that pen name. It was a little odd that he copy typed them from paper he pulled out of an envelope, but to be fair, nothing around the Legal Cheek office was normal. As for Not Amused, like everyone else, whilst she couldn’t believe that the commenter was real, she sort of wanted to believe she was.

With that, Alex let out a loud snort and fell deeply asleep again. Katie tried a few times over the next few hours to awake Alex, prodding him with the end of a DLA Piper ruler she had to hand, but to no success.

When Alex eventually came to, the room was dark save for the glow of Katie’s computer. This was not unheard of in a room that could have been designed for a prison, with only high, grubby windows for light. Katie had finished and perfected her article. She ran through her internal check list. Was there a few pictures of Amal looking lovely? Check. Any mention of law? No. Check. Use of the word top? In the headline. Check. It was ready to publish.

Alex sat bolt upright and looked around groggily. “How long was I out for?” he asked in a raspy voice, his throat ripped apart by his snoring.

“A few hours. I’m glad you’re awake though boss. I’ve got a humdinger of an article. Amal. Fashion. Need I say more?”. Katie could not disguise the glint in her eye and smirk that enveloped her face as she mentioned that name.

Alex rubbed his eyes vigorously. “No, Katie, we’ve been over this.” He sounded as haggard as he looked. “No more Amal. If you publish that, we lose whatever credibility we have. Do you think those top firms will sponsor us for that? No. They want the retention rates, puff pieces subtly saying how great a random Merseyside law firm no one has heard of is. They want the “meet the trainees” open threads which we can edit the comments section, replacing funny questions with more banal questions. Just drop it.”

Katie tried to not show her anger, biting her lip physically and metaphorically. “I thought you may say that, boss”, she replied, the last word slipping off her tongue and hitting Alex like a dagger. “You know anything about the Legal Cheek Reporter, and Not Amused, or shall I just fill in the gaps myself?”. She couldn’t resist dropping that in immediately, as subtle as a plank of wood to the face.

Alex’s face dropped. “Erm, what, what do you mean?” he said hurriedly, suddenly standing unsteadily and moving towards the kitchenette.

“You’ve got quite the big mouth when you’re passed out” Katie said with relish. “Told me everything. The whole deal”.

“No, that’s not true. Nonsense.” He replied, unconvincingly.

Katie smiled and spun back towards her monitor, placing her hands on the keyboard as if to type. “Well, we’ll just have to tell everyone what you told me, and see what they think of you trolling your own site to drum up hits, then”. Even Katie was surprised with the gleeful tone she used.

Alex started towards Katie, then paused. He couldn’t have could he? He evaluated briefly. He couldn’t take the risk of this getting out for the sake of some trashy article no one would care about, other than writing comments asking why it was published. At least Katie had done a proper interview today. That would help.

Alex dropped his head and sighed. “Fine. Publish it. But please, don’t tell anyone about the Reporter”.

Katie’s grin widened. She dramatically hit the enter on her keyboard. “Done! That was easy now, wasn’t it Alex”.

Alex knew he would need to visit the toilet again very soon that afternoon for similar reasons as earlier that day.



The relevance is that she is a celebrity lawyer.



That amazing opus, and that’s your only takeaway!



Very harsh. To imply that she (or anyone) is an Ed Sheeran fan ?? That crosses a line does that..



What I am curious about it how Amal Clooney is now perceived by other barristers and her clients. I could imagine that becoming a star of the red carpet and appearing on make-up artists’ Instagram accounts could reduce the credibility of a junior barrister (especially given that we are not quite there yet with gender equality at the Bar). Amal of course uses her spotlight to bring important issues to the attention to the public – but it now makes you wonder what it is exactly that is shaping her legal career.

Just to clarify – I have never met her and I know nothing about her capabilities as a barrister, except for what you can read on her chambers website. I also am not trying to diminish her value as a lawyer in any way. It would indeed be a wonderful world if women could wear what they wish, pose for photographers in Vogue, and remain truly respected in their professions. I am simply curious whether this is the case.


Trumpenkrieg (a long time reader of Chateau Heartiste)

Must pain her that for all her professional and financial successes, a 21 year old waitress still has higher SMV.



what is SMV?



Suck My Vang.


Trumpenkrieg (a long time reader of Chateau Heartiste which you should Google)

Sexual Market Value


Corbyn. Sympathiser

You are a disgrace.


Stormzy (I really think you're a joke and just enjoy manipulating a pathetic weasel of a man)

Go on a Polish bike ride.


Your communist cuck idol is a disgrace.

Trumpenkriegfinder General

I think Massively Beyond-the-Pale Morally-Bereft Racist Prick is probably closer to the mark than disgrace ?

Just a personal opinion…

Disgusting of Tomb-Dwelling Smells

And most beautifully articulated, my friend.

Corbyn. Symphathiser

I think that noted gimmick poster Trumpenkrieg is all of those things, and I think he is a disgrace for being all of those things: I was not trying to downplay the repulsiveness of his posts, but rather being a bit succinct, though I can see how one might feel I was letting him off lightly.


Yeah, wasn’t having a go. Just felt like a bit of cathartic explicitness. 🙂


Amal is beautiful and clever. No wonder she intimidates the crap out of Jan Moir and many other jealous women (mostly Daily Mail readers).



lovely bit of generalising there….



Where did you read that Jan Moir is intimidated? Or that other women are jealous?



All you need to do is look at DM comments. 95% are people saying she looks too thin or is ugly. It hilarious to see the reaction of women when confronted with another woman who has beauty and brains.



No, I think you misunderstood my post. I didn’t ask if people say she looks too thin or is ugly. These are their opinions, which they are entitled to hold.

What I asked was where you read that Jan Moir is intimidated? And that other women are jealous? What evidence do you have for these two assumptions about the motivation behind in one case a journalist, and the other a few thousand women?



Hi Baria, no, we’re not jealous. Amal always has more than a little of the ridiculous around her. She could have played this right but she and George are too narcissistic. Less coverage, more tasteful and less obviously expensive wardrobe, more humility, less looking around for the cameras, etc. She is a famehound who still has not learned not to look around for the paps. Happily turned herself into advertising space for the fashion industry, which is DESPERATE to have anyone other than the Kardashians to write about so they can sell more advert space. And she actually thinks it’s because she has fashion cachet or great taste. No, dear, you pick your outfits off the catwalk complete with accessories as they were on the catwalk and you obviously don’t have any fashion flair of your own. They call you an ‘icon’ because they need the hype to sell advertising space!



Brexit Bill to exit. Troll Toll to get in (“you gotta pay the toll troll to get in”).

On a serious note, we need to get our act together and start to band together to prevent Brexit.



You did band together. Not enough of you. You lost.



Smoke my pipe, fascist.



There’s a march in London this weekend. Get involved to be involved..



If by Mensa member, she means high intelligence – no, highly intelligent men prefer their partners to eat now and then and not be so insecure as to surgically modify their bodies.

If by Mensa member, she means the likes of Clive Sinclair, she has a (restricted to his type) point.



I like totally want to be a lawyer like Amal, and articles like this make me realise that this is literally what life as a lawyer will be like once I bag a pupillage at a top barrister chambers. Thanks sooo much for the useful insight Katie. It’s articles like this that make me realise you’ve been there and done it as a lawyer and are now passing on the secrets to the next gen of lawyers. Your amazing.



You’re not your !!!



Am I missing something? She is supposed to be this great beauty but she looks suspiciously like an anorexic camel on two legs to me…



Imagine a paper bag over her head and then you will get the picture.



High cheekbones, big eyes, full lips, nice brows and slim figure. Jealous much?



The best beauty treatment that a bottomless pit of money can buy.

Still, a broke 21 year-old burger bar waitress puts her in the shade.

Biological reality is pitiless.



And yet Clooney married her, and not a broke 21 year old. Funny dat.



Some have speculated the arrangement is not all it seems.

*cough* beard *cough*

Corbyn. Symphathiser

I’m sorry that you are clearly unhappy in your love-life. I hope that you will one day find the burger bar waitress of your dreams.



Burger bar waitresses are probably serving burgers to pay for their studies.

You’re not quite living up to Corbyn’s values with this snobbery.

Corbyn. Symphathiser

I never made a value judgement on burger bar waitresses, though. I merely commiserated that you are quite plainly romantically unfulfilled, and since you also have something of a ‘thing’ for burger bar waitresses, I hoped you would fine the lady of your dreams.

I will say that you are living up to Trump’s values with your level of reading comprehension.


You’re very wrong. Trumpy has all the romantic fulfilment he needs in a full length mirror and a functional right hand.


“Am I missing something? She is supposed to be this great beauty but she looks suspiciously like an anorexic camel on two legs to me…”

You’re not missing anything but the fact the fashion industry is desperate for famehounds who happen to be “well positioned” celeb-wise, like Amal. Her marriage to Mr Kloondashian and their invite-all-the-paps wedding catapulted her to massive fame. In addition, she is a serious couture addict. Together all of this makes her the best advertising cipher, the beauty editor’s wet dream: someone with constant press coverage you can write endless fluff about (and fluff is what this Times piece is) while really selling beauty and fashion products, or advert space for such products. So the moral of the story is go to Oxford, study law, work hard in your career for 10 years, and catch a rich, old, famous guy and you too can become advertising space like Mrs Kloondashian.









The biggest lie ever told: Katie King is a writer



This woman attracts ridicule for a lot of reasons, but for me it’s mostly the fact she has willingly turned herself blank advertising space for the fashion, makeup, and beauty magazine industry. Icon my foot! Believe me when I say this: If Amal had been short, pudgy, and otherwise completely opposite to the fashion ideal for a clotheshorse physically speaking, Vogue and other beauty writers would still have turned her into an “icon.” Why? They’re desperate to sell advertising and she’s the dream advertising object they need to save them in the digital age.


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