Tom Cruise is in the UK. His new “Mission: Impossible” is to shoot another load of back-to-back Missions Impossible. One after another. He wants now to film Nos. 7 and 8.

Who knows, maybe he’ll also cram in 46 and 47?

His idea is to do scenes in Norway. Why Norway? Sure can’t be for the food. It’s where this rootin’ tootin’ shootin’ hero’s short little legs can find towering, dramatic cliffs to scale and fjords to fjord while in character.

Government officials in downtown Oslo are now trying to clear the way.

Truly poison pen

Tomorrow, the US release of the arsenic-laden “Meghan and Harry: The Real Story.” Note who gets top billing.

Author Lady Colin Campbell: “This woman is a terrible person. Her plan is to muzzle the press except to present what she wants. Understand, she was in an ensemble — never a star player. She hasn’t brains nor experience to be a star.

“Ludicrous to convince sorry Harry they’d make hundreds of millions in the US.”

Her Ladyship, also as delicate as an Uzi: “This book already hit London’s best-seller list. Still, there’s no negative pushback. Not even from the palace, though I talked with a senior staffer who’d warned Meghan and Harry against mixing into politics.

“Gathering information took eight months but, surprisingly, no difficulty my talking to anyone. People willingly spoke. Even Harry’s close friend who is linked to one of my close friends. I was greeted by all. Everybody knows I have nerve.”

Yeah.

“One phone call told me Harry could not be in touch with Meghan’s father. Was ordered not to even try to do so. And stopped because she ran interference.

“People in the know said that just weeks before meeting Harry, her blog said how wonderful her father was. Flat-out there had been words of praise for her father. I was dumbfounded. So she was either lying then, or lying now.”

What about her saying the press was not supportive during her pregnancy?

“About this pregnancy, I write a great deal. Constantly clutching her belly while wearing very revealing clothes, her conduct was incomprehensible. She offended the public, who thought she immodest. A woman is not — as she did then — to wear skintight stretch garments.”

Chapters and chapters, vetted by lawyers, record the pregnancy. Much my old friend Lady Campbell — whom we call Georgie — even shared on the phone but, I’d better not say. Read the nasty in the book.

The Markle of the beast

Georgie gift wraps Meghan as “steel . . . hard . . . calculating . . . what she wants she gets . . . a propensity for exaggeration . . . inflates herself . . . intended to be a high flyer . . . a partygoer . . . networked to see who’d prove most useful in future . . . knew exactly who Harry was because she’d read about him, Googled him . . . an operator who knew he’s her ticket to fame . . . on their third date already planning their future . . . snaps at him if he steps out of line . . . had her nose done . . . said she’s 11 when she was 14 . . . and immediately, even before the wedding, planned to eff Brittannia and off to fame, fortune and films.”

Love for Regis

Regis Philbin, like the Statue of Liberty, was always there. On TV, in russet hair. Off TV, in silver hair. There was no place he wasn’t. At an opening, he was in the row ahead. Do a screening, he sat alongside you. There was no place Regis wasn’t. He always said, “Seniors can’t give up.” At 14, he delivered the NY Post newspapers. I loved him. He never said a bad word about anyone. He loved America. He loved show business. He loved it all. And we all loved him. He grew up here. He was one of us here. He lived here.

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Only in New York, kids, only in New York.