Why Ulrika's not sorry

Ulrika Jonsson's autobiography, Honest, is dedicated to her children, Cameron and Bo. "Remember," she writes, "if the worst comes to the worst, being screwed up can sometimes make you more interesting." Hmm. Listening to Jonsson - a woman who, by her own account, was once as screwed up as they come - I am not entirely convinced this is the case.

Sure, occasionally there are flashes of wit and insight; mostly, however, her conversation is designed to bamboozle the listener into her way of thinking. It is shrill, contradictory, self-obsessed and long-winded. I'm quite a talker myself and I can't get a word in edgeways.

Right now, for instance, she is explaining why she included an account of her short affair with the England football manager, Sven-Goran Eriksson, in her book. "I put him in because I'm telling you the story of my life," she says. "If I hadn't, it wouldn't have been honest. The point of putting it in is twofold. First, I'm letting everyone know things were not the way they appeared to be. I was pursued by a person; it wasn't my publicity stunt. Second, it shows I've grown as a person. Because I left that relationship the way I should have left a lot of other relationships in my life. I think that shows a lot of personal growth."

But when Markus Kempen, the father of her 16-month-old daughter, Bo, sold the story of his relationship with Jonsson to a tabloid, she was devastated. Isn't it a bit hypocritical to do the same thing to someone else? "Not at all. Markus was not a celebrity. He made money out of me. I haven't made money out of Sven. I'm making money out of a book I've written about things that I've done. I'm the famous face.

"When a non-famous person sells their story, we know it's to get the money. But I haven't serialised the book for money, and I didn't write it for money. The advance wasn't that huge - actually, I've got a bit of a complaint about that - and the figures that have been bandied about for the serialisation are completely out of touch."

It sounds to me as if she is saying that there is one rule for her and another for everyone else. Still, the funny thing is that, in spite of jawdropping statements like these - and boy, does she shout and swear her way through them - Jonsson is oddly likeable.

In part, this is down to the way she looks. Yes, she has lost a little weight - "I've had the builders in and a lot on my mind, but I'm certainly not as thin as I was" - but, in the flesh, she is lovely: blonde, tanned, her blue eyes like two cornflowers in a field of corn.

She is also, however, good at intimacy, kicking off her pointy Sigerson Morrison boots and tucking her fishnet-clad feet beneath her (we are in an airless suite at The Dorchester).

She was not, or so she insists, dreading last week - when her long-awaited book was finally unveiled - nor is she remotely interested in how her revelations have gone down in the outside world. "I've deliberately avoided reading the papers," she says. She thinks there was a little booing in the audience when she presented the National TV Awards last week, but she just tried to keep her cool.

"There might have been one or two boos. I felt that as I walked down, but Melanie [Cantor, her agent] said there weren't. I felt more selfconscious than usual, but I have every right to hold my head up high.

"I'm really proud of this book. I've written a book that's been f****** published. Isn't that an amazing thing to say? I knew everyone would go nuts about the Sven thing, but I am trying not to lose sight of the fact that he is just one episode in a book which has 28 chapters full of far more interesting things than what went on between two consenting adults. If I'd written about the affair in seven years' time, no one would have given a s***. It was just those people at the FA who were s****** themselves about what I might have put in."

In particular, she would like it to be known that she thinks it is ridiculous the way the press painted her as being in a battle against Eriksson's Italian girlfriend, Nancy Dell'Olio. And, no, she does not feel sorry for her so-called rival, not even the tiniest bit. "I don't suppose she feels sorry for me, either. I mean, why would I feel sorry for her?" Well, I say, Nancy was Sven's girlfriend when Jonsson got involved with him. It can't have been pleasant to be humiliated in public.

"That's not the experience I had. The relationship was over and she insisted on staying. If you stay in those circumstances, then you just have to take it."

But she only had Sven's word for it that the relationship was over - and he had a rather obvious ulterior motive. "Let me put it this way. I have stronger proof than I put in the book that the relationship was over. Maybe she ought to be grateful I didn't put it in. I mean, hang on a sec. He's unfaithful to her and I should feel sorry for her? No, no, no, no, no. He's a grown man. He should stand and be answerable."

Does she think she misjudged him? "Evidently. Fundamentally, he's a weak man. I tried to end that affair twice. On both occasions, he insisted he wanted to carry it on. In the end, I said this is not healthy for me and a f***** good job I did because they're still together."

Reading Jonsson's book - in which she gives noholdsbarred accounts of her relationships with the Gladiator known as Hunter, James Crossley, footballer Stan Collymore, and Kempen, a German holiday resort manager - what strikes you most forcefully is how easily her head is turned. One compliment and she seems to turn to mush, no matter how badly these men might otherwise treat her (Collymore beat her up; Kempen kept abandoning her, and did so for the final time only days after their sick baby daughter had returned home from hospital). Does she think she is too easily flattered, like some giggly teenager?

"I was neglected as a child. I was insecure. I take criticism more easily than I take a compliment. If someone says I'm crap I'm more likely to believe them than if they say I look great. When I go on television, I'm so self-deprecating, you could scrape me up off the floor. I've never been able to do the Carol Vorderman 'look-at-me-aren't-I-great' thing."

Even so, Collymore's instincts were terrifyingly obvious almost from the outset. After beating her up in public, he cut the entire contents of her overnight bag into little pieces - and she still opted to spend the night in his hotel room. Why?

"It's not just thick women who get beaten up by their partners. Most women endure 54 violent episodes before they leave. Yes, I should have walked away. But I was conditioned to take it."

Most of her problems with men, she thinks, are down to her childhood; her mother, Gun, left home when she was eight and Jonsson spent the next four years with her philandering father, Bo.

In the past, she has had therapy and seen a psychiatrist, but now, aged 35, she believes she has sorted herself out. "I bloody hope so. I always thought I should be with someone. Now I don't need a man. Everybody likes to be loved, but I get that from my kids. There's a certain intimacy one misses when one is single.

"It's nice to wake up with someone. It's nice to have that physical contact. But there's been nobody since Sven and it feels okay. Not having any love interest is a kind of relief. I love a lot. I can love very easily. I give more than I am ready to receive. I was in love with Markus and with James Crossley.

"Well, I guess I was infatuated with James. It was a physical thing. And what a nice man he turned out to be [Crossley also sold his story to the papers]. With Markus, it was more romantic. I thought he was a grownup." She wails. "Wrong!"

"Now, I'd be more receptive to a good relationship. I'd love to know what it's like to have someone be nice to me."

Doesn't she worry that her book - her new-found tendency to give away other people's dark secrets - will put prospective men off ? "Well, I think it will be another 35 years before I write another book, and I've never sold a story before. I think it's more my celebrity status that frightens people."

Her father is dead, but her relationship with her mother is still complex - especially since Gun sold the story of her relationship with her daughter to a tabloid just as Honest was about to be serialised.

She sighs. "She knows not to speak to the press. For 14 years, I've told her not to. She doesn't listen. I say it for her protection, not mine. She was nervous about the book, she wanted to put her side, but she shouldn't have taken money and she should have asked me first. What can I do? Emotionally, our relationship has not been put right. But I'm tired. You knock on someone's door. If they don't open it, you stop knocking."

Her mother, she says, is too nervous to read the book, afraid of what she might find.

What about her ex-husband - the father of seven-year-old Cameron, John Turnbull? "He thinks it's great, though he hopes I haven't been too hard on myself." Turnbull is a constant feature in her life. She has not heard from Kempen for nine months, and Bo now calls John "Daddy".

"When she's ready, she'll be told the story. I won't need to slag [Markus] off. She can make up her own mind. I could never have anticipated how wonderful John has been. [When Markus left] I was knocked sideways. I couldn't even walk, I was so depressed. But John has a deep affection for me, and he loves children. And who could not fall in love with Bo? She's fantastic."

But it is unlikely that she and John, a cameraman, will get back together. "The love I have for him is so platonic. Well, it's deeper than that but ... there's all that stuff about not revisiting. But if I did feel it was anything else ..." Would she act on it? "Yes, I would act on it."

And what of Sven? Does she still hold a torch for him? What would she do if she bumped into him at a party? At this, she is unexpectedly still and quiet - perhaps even a mite embarrassed. "I don't know what I'd say ... although I'd be lying if I said I haven't thought about it. I suppose I still carry a little tea-light for the time I had with him.

"He may prove me wrong, but I feel there's been an element of dishonesty about him to me. I feel kind of vindicated about what I did. Thank God I didn't hang around and wait for him, like he asked me to."

And if he left Nancy and begged Ulrika for forgiveness? "I think I'd fall over with the shock."

Ulrika Jonsson's autobiography, Honest, is out now (Sidgwick and Jackson, £16.99).