It may have been a bout of natural shyness, but more likely it was the billows of lofty praise that kept the Princess of Wales blushingly silent in Glasgow last week. Diana was there to accept an honorary fellowship from the city's Royal College of Physicians and Surgeons. "For five centuries the perceptive heads of the Spencer family have married women of surpassing beauty, and the daughters they begat relegated Cleopatra to eclipse," gushed Professor Stanley Alstead during his presentation speech. After the ceremony, an admiring young Glaswegian, appropriately named Edward Romeo, begged permission to "kiss your hand, Ma'am." His passion released, he murmured glassy-eyed, "She is more beautiful than Cleopatra."

He may be the world's most famous entertainer, but Michael Jackson, 25, is hardly the outgoing type. Nevertheless, the usually reclusive superstar had a downright gregarious week as he slipped into New York City, where he recorded a duet called State of Shock with Rolling Stone Mick Jagger, 40, for a new album expected out next month. During his stay in the Big Apple he showed up backstage after taking in Shirley MacLaine's Broadway hit. Then it was off to Washington, where he checked into the Four Seasons Hotel virtually unnoticed, until he asked the management to install a 6-ft. by 8-ft. parquet dance floor in his fourth-floor suite. Jackson appeared next at the White House, to be lauded by the President and Nancy Reagan for allowing his song Beat It to be used in a Government anti-drunk-driving ad campaign. Resplendent in his glittery white glove and electric blue Sgt. Pepper jacket, Jackson looked more like a visiting head of state than a singer. During a White House tour, the pop idol was intrigued by a portrait of Andrew Jackson, whose military jacket was vaguely similar to his own. Later Jackson agreed to meet a few presidential staffers and their children, but fled to the men's room when he saw a waiting throng of 75 star-struck adults. The grownups were politely asked to beat it, and Jackson emerged to meet his young fans--a few at a time.

The public eye first blinked at him in 1978 when he opened his raincoat in front of a statue in downtown Portland, Ore. A resulting poster, Expose Yourself to Art, sold more than 250,000 copies worldwide and made Bar Owner J.E. ("Bud") Clark, 52, something of a local celebrity. When the bearded, self-proclaimed agnostic announced he was running for mayor this year, everyone was again amused. He campaigned diligently, however, and Incumbent Frank Ivancie worriedly began calling him "a born-again pagan." The vitriol backfired, and Clark astonished the disbelievers by stomping Ivancie and three other candidates with 55% of the vote. "I believe it," said the new mayor, who then went off on a four-day fishing trip.

They have left an indelible imprint on the film industry, but George Lucas, 40, and Steven Spielberg, 36, who together or separately have made six of the ten top-grossing movies of all time, were at Mann's Chinese Theater in Hollywood last week to make a much more modest impression. As music from their latest collaboration, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, blared from loudspeakers, Lucas and Spielberg plopped their hands and sneakered feet in wet cement. "We had snakes in the last [Indiana Jones] picture," quipped a reticent Lucas. "We have bugs in this picture. But probably the greatest fear man has is of public speaking, and I think I'm evidence of that." Spielberg may be better evidence. He said even less.