WE'RE all used to Kiera Knightley being prim and proper, running around Malory Towers waving her hockey stick and eating tinned tongue sandwiches, so imagine my utter shock when she ended up getting flootered in a very un-Enid Blyton fashion at the Golden Globe Awards last week.

"Julian, I have to go take care of your Aunt Fanny because she fell down the stairs after beer-bonging bottles of Vadsky. Stay away from the lighthouse on Kirrin Island." That's not how the story goes, is it?

Hang your privately tutored head in shame, Kiera. There is something redeeming about this far too jolly behaviour, however.

Who was Kiera dancing the night away with, before falling on top of them on the dance floor . . . the Eton rugby captain? Some dastardly dashing ruffian with a double barrelled name . . .

Princeford DrunkyHammerington? Nay. Kiera was, in fact, knocking the champers back with none other than Sharmon MacDonald. In other words, her ma. How quaint.

Such behaviour should endear her further to the American public, following a very Bridget-Jones-butloaded interview with the E!

channel where she admitted to wearing "massive knickers" under her clinging white dress, and climbed the rungs of coy diplomacy . . . if such a ladder exists . . . when the interviewer asked her if she was single, "aren't we all?" she piped.

Yes Kiera. Apart from those of us who aren't.