'pop star' Pope

de bene esse: literally, of well-being, morally acceptable but subject to future validation or exception

Revealed: How the 'pop star' Pope snubbed Mrs Thatcher and the Queen on historic first visit to Britain

John Paul II, who visited the Queen for just 30 minutes during a six-day visit in 1982, was reluctant for the meeting in case it set a precedent.

Woodstock

de bene esse: literally, of well-being, morally acceptable but subject to future validation or exception

Woodstock was 45 years ago today ...

Downton Abbey cast are BANNED from bringing own items on set after embarrassing water bottle gaffe

de bene esse: literally, of well-being, morally acceptable but subject to future validation or exception

+6

Oops! Robert, Earl of Grantham and Lady Edith Crawley clearly had plastic bottles of mineral water in 1924

Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/article-2730719/Downton-Abbey-cast-BANNED-bringing-designer-underwear-set.html#ixzz3B4rOE2xI

World War in Colour

de bene esse: literally, of well-being, morally acceptable but subject to future validation or exception

The FIRST World War in colour: Photos taken using pioneering technology show conflict in a new light for the first time

Autochrome technology was in its very premature days when the war began in 1914 but a small group of photographers were pioneering its usage and now their pictures have been brought together. ‘The First World War in Colour’ contains more than 320 colour photos brought together from archives in Europe, the United States and Australia. Troops are pictured left in blue jackets and helmets watching the sky intently for missiles and right, a German trench canteen. Inset is French airship Alsace when it was shot down on October 3, 1915.

Elvis

de bene esse: literally, of well-being, morally acceptable but subject to future validation or exception

Elvis hit her, and even hurled a dish of ice cream when she mocked his weight. Now Ginger Alden, The King's almost queen, reveals his last words before she found him slumped on the bathroom floor

In her upcoming autobiography, Elvis Presley's fiancee Ginger Alden spills the secrets of her love affair with The King, including the last day of his life.'I'm going into the bathroom to read,' he told her when he had trouble falling asleep. She found him later that day slumped over on the bathroom floor, on his knees with his hands beneath his face, in a grotesque position as though he had been praying. She reveals that Elvis had a violent streak and would shoot his gun at the television set. But he always apologized for his bad behavior

LAUREN BACALL on Sinatra

de bene esse: literally, of well-being, morally acceptable but subject to future validation or exception

My volcanic affair with Sinatra: Red-hot passion one moment. Cutting her dead the next. LAUREN BACALL on the star who begged her to marry him... then publicly humiliated her

It would have been the most sensational showbiz marriage of the era - the world's greatest crooner Frank Sinatra, pictured left with Lauren Bacall, actually proposed to the Hollywood legend - and she accepted! It was a hard secret to keep, and Lauren - who had recently lost her husband Humphrey Bogart, top right - was bursting to tell everyone she knew. But Frank, in a cold, remote way, went on to embarrass and humiliate the star. She went on to fall for another married men and eventually wed Jason Robards, pictured bottom right, in Mexico. In this concluding part of the late star's memoirs, LAUREN BACALL tells how it all went horribly wrong...

Lauren Bacall

de bene esse: literally, of well-being, morally acceptable but subject to future validation or exception

I was pregnant - and Bogie was just livid, by LAUREN BACALL: The late actress tells of her tempestuous and passionate marriage to screen star Humphrey Bogart

Lauren Bacall (pictured inset with her husband Humphrey Bogart and together with their son Steven) recalls the couple's deep love for one another and Bogart's heartbreaking death from cancer. She writes: 'On a weekend morning in January, after the worst night imaginable when Bogie lay restlessly plucking at his chest and moaning, I dressed to take the children to Sunday school. I kissed him, as I always did, and said I’d be right back. "Goodbye, kid," he said. When I came back an hour later, he had slipped into a coma.'