MADE FOR EACH OTHER

They claim to be just very dear friends but the undeniable chemistry between Pamela Anderson and Liam Neeson tells another story

- BY NICOLA WHITFIELD

I DIDN'T like Pamela Anderson back in the Baywatch days. That perfect butt, that thigh gap, those bouncy breasts, those just-so beachy curls, those gleaming teeth.

Bloody couldn't act either - all she could do was jog along the shore in her high-cut red cozzie, holding a buoy while her boobs bobbed up and down in slow motion and the surf curled around her slender ankles.

But then one day I said to my sister, "I don't think Pamela Anderson is even that pretty." And she said, "I wouldn't say no to any of that."

And then it dawned on me: I was jealous. Because really, what wasn't to love about Pammie? She had it all. I could only dream of looking like that in a swimsuit like hers, all dimple-free derriere and even suntan. She even seemed kind of sweet as she helped David Hasselhoff and the other Baywatch babes and boys pull people from the ocean.

Pamela was kind of real too. Her dad was a boiler repairman and her mom was a waitress, and she was plucked from obscurity in her hometown of Vancouver when a crowd camera at a football match picked her out.

Like the kiss cam at a Coldplay concert that outed a certain tech CEO and his horrified side piece, the image on the screen was life-changing - although in Pam's case the fallout was far more favourable.

She was noticed by a beer company which hired her for an ad campaign and poster. She was then flown to Los Angeles by Playboy, appeared nude on the cover in all her nubile glory and had all the men's magazines falling over themselves for a piece of her.

The bosses at Baywatch wanted her too and suddenly the world knew who Pamela Anderson was.

She was the babe of babes, the cool chick men wanted and women wanted to be. And it seems Liam Neeson was one of them. And still is.