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The father of Sarah Palin's grandchild hits New York City in style

What? You want me to write Lost in Showbiz? Excuse me, do you not see I am, ahem, reading the new Playgirl, in which Bristol Palin's ex, Levi Johnston, shows the world just what kind of man he is? You say this isn't professional behaviour? Well, if you're going to be demanding . . . can I at least talk about it? Yay!!

Yee haw, Lost in Showbizzers! Greetings from the land of the free and the home of the brave, a description that Levi has amply proved in Playgirl, "free" and "brave", being surely the best adjectives to apply to this, um, artistic photo, er, essay. Marina is on another fact-finding mission and, to compensate for her loss, here is a special Lost in Showbiz from America for y'all.

So we all know what the big story in US, nay, international showbiz is at the moment: Playgirl and Levi Palin-Johnston, as we once called him, or "Ricky Hollywood", as his non-mother-in-law Sarah Palin called him on Oprah this week. What's that you say? You thought Playgirl was the flailing offshoot of a brand wilting under the double pressure of the internet and an ageing figurehead who no longer quite represents the world of priapism that frat boys in the 80s thought he did? Ah, but that was before Levi, er, entered the, um, ring. As he did for the Republican party, Levi has reinvigorated public interest in the dying brand, simply by taking off his clothes and not talking very much. Come to think of it, that's basically what he did for the Republican party, too. Ah, Playgirl and the Republicans: so many similarities, so little time.

So Ricky Hollywood's Playgirl debut will be on newsstands tomorrow and darling Ricky has, happily, been perhaps free-er than the magazine would have liked with hints about what the world can expect. Hockey sticks will be involved. Yes, hockey sticks – and no, that's not a euphemism.

Ricky has been in New York City this week, an image of such fish-out-of-water adorableness it instantly sparks images of Babar the Elephant's first visit to "the city", after having grown up in the jungle. In this book, The Story of Babar, the first of the incomparably glorious Babar series, our elephant arrives in the city and meets a lady who gets him suited and booted, helps him cope with the loss of his mother, teaches him the finer points of etiquette and then sends him on his way.

Do you see what I'm getting at? This book, published 78 years ago, foretold the tale of Levi! Except in the book of Levi-I-mean-Ricky, our protagonist came to New York, went to the Fleshbot awards, met NY socialite Tinsley Mortimer, who I'm sure helped him cope with the loss of his non-mother-in-law, happily fended off questions about his penis size ("a lot of people ask that"), got fake-tanned, posed naked, and then went on his way.

OK, so it wasn't quite the same as the elephant's experience, but that story was a metaphor. We're dealing with reality here – the reality that the teenager who knocked up the daughter of the failed vice-presidential candidate in the US election has posed naked and that this has tipped New York's paparazzi into near hysteria. The only thing that could possibly make this story better is if Ricky's PR was named Tank. Oh wait, he is: Tank Jones. Levi – were you sent from God? Are you actually the first/second/whatevs Christ? Well, seeing as his Playgirl issue is coming out the same week as Sarah Palin's piece of Republican porn, Going Rogue, I think we can all say, yes, yes he is. Levi, Ricky, Babar, Christ, whatever your name is: on behalf of the world, can we say thank you? Thank you for gifting us with your beneficence.