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C J Davies

Sean Connery: Neighbour From Hell

by C J Davies

It must be a nightmare living next door to James Bond.

Face it – you’d have that huge Aston Martin clogging up the driveway, a never-ending stream of Martini supply trucks dropping stuff off and the occasional coroner popping round to have a peek at dead ladies covered in gold paint. Not to mention the fact that he’d be looking all suave and ladykiller-like all the time, constantly showing off beautiful girlfriends like Eva Mendes while – in stark contrast – you have to settle for some slapper you met in Wetherspoons who looks a bit like the Cadbury’s Mini Eggs parrot.

Luckily, of course, Bond is simply a fictional character. You’d never have such trouble if you lived next to, say, actor Sean Connery, would you? Of course not – he’d be like a benevolent old uncle, constantly popping round from the flat upstairs to give you tins of shortbread and perform entertaining highland jigs when there’s nothing on television.

You’d think that, wouldn’t you? Wouldn’t you? Hell yes you would – and you’d quite literally be the wrongest person in the whole wide world for doing so.

It must be a nightmare living next door to James Bond. Face it - you'd have that huge Aston Martin clogging up the driveway, a never-ending stream of Martini supply trucks dropping stuff off and the occasional coroner popping round to have a peek at dead ladies covered in gold paint. Not to mention the fact that he'd be looking all suave and ladykiller-like all the time, constantly showing off beautiful girlfriends like Eva Mendes while - in stark contrast - you have to settle for some slapper you met in Wetherspoons who looks a bit like the Cadbury's Mini Eggs parrot. Luckily, of course, Bond is simply a fictional character. You'd never have such trouble if you lived next to, say, actor Sean Connery, would you? Of course not - he'd be like a benevolent old uncle, constantly popping round from the flat upstairs to give you tins of shortbread and perform entertaining highland jigs when there's nothing on television. You'd think that, wouldn't you? Wouldn't you? Hell yes you would - and you'd quite literally be the wrongest person in the whole wide world for doing so.
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Bioshock 2 On The Way

by C J Davies

Good news for people who like wandering around undersea dystopias fighting off genetically-altered freaks: Bioshock is set to return for a sequel.

The freshest and most innovative videogame hit of last year, Bioshock is a first-person shooter for the Xbox 360 that – at times – is so darn atmospheric and scary hecklerspray had to stop playing it. But then we found out that Alan Carr’s Celebrity Ding-Dong was on the TV, and figured that being chased around dark corridors by murderous mutants was actually a much less terrifying prospect.

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Kerry Katona: Cheap Publicity Stunt No. 6,326,657

by C J Davies

Hecklerspray has often wondered: when Greek divine being Lauis fathered Oedipus, did he look into the eyes of his child and realise what tragic moral carnage the youngster would one day imprint upon ensuing centuries of mythology and popular culture?

Oh, alright, then. You got us. We don’t wonder about that at all. What we do often question, though, is a dilemma along similar lines: when the father of ex-Atomic Kitten ‘singer’ Kerry Katona heard that he had sired a daughter, did he in any way suspect that she would grow up to be a despicable, Lambrini-for-brains halfwit who would gladly drink a pint of diarrhoea if it guaranteed her ten minutes of televisual exposure?

We may well find out soon. Bus driver John Dowd has announced to the world that he believes himself to be Kerry’s daddy. Apparently – much like a self-imposed Nuremberg trial – he’s all too willing to come forward and take responsibility for the results. The horrible, horrible results.

Hecklerspray has often wondered: when Greek divine being Lauis fathered Oedipus, did he look into the eyes of his child and realise what tragic moral carnage the youngster would one day imprint upon ensuing centuries of mythology and popular culture? Oh, alright, then. You got us. We don't wonder about that at all. What we do often question, though, is a dilemma along similar lines: when the father of ex-Atomic Kitten 'singer' Kerry Katona heard that he had sired a daughter, did he in any way suspect that she would grow up to be a despicable, Lambrini-for-brains halfwit who would gladly drink a pint of diarrhoea if it guaranteed her ten minutes of televisual exposure? We may well find out soon. Bus driver John Dowd has announced to the world that he believes himself to be Kerry's daddy. Apparently - much like a self-imposed Nuremberg trial - he's all too willing to come forward and take responsibility for the results. The horrible, horrible results.
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James Blunt Suffers Non-Beautiful Legal Action

by C J Davies

Sometimes you just have to take responsibility for your actions.

Had a little bit too much to drink and made a fool of yourself? Call up your friends and say sorry. Bumped into a parked car and left a dent? Stick a note under the window wiper with a set of contact details and your humblest apologies. It just makes the world a nicer place, people.

Of course, there are exceptions to this rule. Some of you may have done things so hideous over the course of your lives that you’ll never, ever, ever tell another soul for as long as you remain on this planet. For example – if you were responsible for launching the career of singer-songwriter James Blunt, we really wouldn’t hold it against you if you kept that revelation on the quiet side. In fact, if you ever want a place to hide out, we’ve got a lovely basement you could use. Provided you don’t mind sharing it with K.T Tunstall’s agent, that is.

Ex-4 Non Blondes singer Linda Perry holds no such fear, however. She’ll scream from the rooftops that she set James Blunt on the path to superstardom. In fact, she’s no angry with not being credited for helping out the Maestro Of Mediocrity that she’s suing Warner Music for millions of dollars.

Sometimes you just have to take responsibility for your actions. Had a little bit too much to drink and made a fool of yourself? Call up your friends and say sorry. Bumped into a parked car and left a dent? Stick a note under the window wiper with a set of contact details and your humblest apologies. It just makes the world a nicer place, people. Of course, there are exceptions to this rule. Some of you may have done things so hideous over the course of your lives that you'll never, ever, ever tell another soul for as long as you remain on this planet. For example - if you were responsible for launching the career of singer-songwriter James Blunt, we really wouldn't hold it against you if you kept that revelation on the quiet side. In fact, if you ever want a place to hide out, we've got a lovely basement you could use. Provided you don't mind sharing it with K.T Tunstall's agent, that is. Ex-4 Non Blondes singer Linda Perry holds no such fear, however. She'll scream from the rooftops that she set James Blunt on the path to superstardom. In fact, she's no angry with not being credited for helping out the Maestro Of Mediocrity that she's suing Warner Music for millions of dollars.
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Look – Someone’s Leaked The X-Files 2 Trailer

by C J Davies

Psst.

Psst. You. Hey! Do you like nineties sci-fi TV shows about a couple of FBI agents who should have been boning each other senseless but never got round to it because they were too busy chasing/not believing in (delete as applicable) UFOs and aliens? If so, then, boy, have we got a treat for you.

Some wag, it seems, has secretly filmed a sneak preview of the upcoming X-Files movie sequel, due for release this July. And whaddaya know – despite being a horribly low-quality clip – it’s actually enough to wipe hecklerspray’s memory of the awful last few seasons of the show. Why, there’s nary a T-1000 in sight!

What you will find, however, is Gillian Anderson digging something mysterious up in the snow, David Duchovny running around looking anxious, and a white-haired Billy Connolly pretending to be some sort of mysterious bad guy. Intriguing, you say? It is, rather, isn’t it?

Psst. Psst. You. Hey! Do you like nineties sci-fi TV shows about a couple of FBI agents who should have been boning each other senseless but never got round to it because they were too busy chasing/not believing in (delete as applicable) UFOs and aliens? If so, then, boy, have we got a treat for you. Some wag, it seems, has secretly filmed a sneak preview of the upcoming X-Files movie sequel, due for release this July. And whaddaya know - despite being a horribly low-quality clip - it's actually enough to wipe hecklerspray's memory of the awful last few seasons of the show. Why, there's nary a T-1000 in sight! What you will find, however, is Gillian Anderson digging something mysterious up in the snow, David Duchovny running around looking anxious, and a white-haired Billy Connolly pretending to be some sort of mysterious bad guy. Intriguing, you say? It is, rather, isn't it?
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It’s The Iraq Top Torture Tune Rundown!

by C J Davies

Ever heard of a band called Deicide?

If your answer is ‘no’, then chances are you’re not a military prisoner being held by the United States in Iraq. Out there, you see, Deicide are massive. Huge. Seriously – literally every bomb-strapped insurgent worth his salt just can’t get enough of them. Well … we say ‘can’t get enough of them’. What we actually mean is ‘forced to listen to them at terrifying volume in order to be beaten into submission.’

For your information, Deicide are a death-metal band from Florida whose work to date includes such party classics as Homage For Satan, Fuck Your God, Scars Of The Crucifix and Granny’s favourite Kill The Christian. They’re named after the peculiar act of killing a divine being – something which hecklerspray presumes is quite a rare occurrence, save for that time our mate Dave was driving home drunk and accidentally ran over that bearded guy with the holes in his hands.

Anyway. After selling upwards of 500,000 records to their hardcore fanbase, Deicide have now launched a new career: they’re officially the band whose music is used the most to torture Iraqi war prisoners. Yay!

Ever heard of a band called Deicide? If your answer is 'no', then chances are you're not a military prisoner being held by the United States in Iraq. Out there, you see, Deicide are massive. Huge. Seriously - literally every bomb-strapped insurgent worth his salt just can't get enough of them. Well ... we say 'can't get enough of them'. What we actually mean is 'forced to listen to them at terrifying volume in order to be beaten into submission.' For your information, Deicide are a death-metal band from Florida whose work to date includes such party classics as Homage For Satan, Fuck Your God, Scars Of The Crucifix and Granny's favourite Kill The Christian. They're named after the peculiar act of killing a divine being - something which hecklerspray presumes is quite a rare occurrence, save for that time our mate Dave was driving home drunk and accidentally ran over that bearded guy with the holes in his hands. Anyway. After selling upwards of 500,000 records to their hardcore fanbase, Deicide have now launched a new career: they're officially the band whose music is used the most to torture Iraqi war prisoners. Yay!
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Official: Nobody Watched The Oscars

by C J Davies

Okay, okay… so that isn’t quite accurate.

The 80th Annual Academy Awards was in fact watched by 32 million Americans. Now, anyone who works in the rating business will tell you that 32 million people are not to be sniffed at. Hell, that’s almost as many people as tuned in that time hecklerspray appeared on Blind Date (you know, the episode in which we took that midget to Legoland and snared her growth-deficient heart).

32 million viewers for the Oscars, though? That’s nothing. That’s pathetic. That’s so darn depressing that Old Mr Statue is crying golden tears and getting ready to wrap a noose made of film reel around his neck. All with a soundtrack by John Williams, of course.

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Disturbing Friday Fun: Horrible Video CV

by C J Davies

You know, we’re not perfect.

That’s right. Despite being the site that introduced you to such legends as the Angry German Kid, the 9/11 Mime Artist and the dancing fat man in the Mini Mall commercial, occasionally something slips by our radar. This was highlighted in a most painful manner today, when – during a conversation with a good friend of ours – they seemed truly amazed that we had never heard of Aleksey Vayner.

How embarrassing.

Anyway – that’s just a heads-up. Some of you may have seen this, so don’t go yelling at us, please (it only makes us cry, and then we’re of no use to anyone). The rest of you, though? Boy, are you in for a treat …

This will be of particular interest to anyone presently hovering around the job market. How’s that CV looking? Made of ‘paper’, is it? Bah. Get with the times, you old duffer. The Video CV (or ‘resume’, as you crazy Americans like to call it) is clearly the way forward.

One man who knows this is Yale graduate Aleksey. He applied for a job at a major investment firm. And he handed in this – the quite frankly stunning introduction to his mind that you’re about to witness.

Remember. Impossible Is Nothing…

You know, we're not perfect. That's right. Despite being the site that introduced you to such legends as the Angry German Kid, the 9/11 Mime Artist and the dancing fat man in the Mini Mall commercial, occasionally something slips by our radar. This was highlighted in a most painful manner today, when - during a conversation with a good friend of ours - they seemed truly amazed that we had never heard of Aleksey Vayner. How embarrassing. Anyway - that's just a heads-up. Some of you may have seen this, so don't go yelling at us, please (it only makes us cry, and then we're of no use to anyone). The rest of you, though? Boy, are you in for a treat ... This will be of particular interest to anyone presently hovering around the job market. How's that CV looking? Made of 'paper', is it? Bah. Get with the times, you old duffer. The Video CV (or 'resume', as you crazy Americans like to call it) is clearly the way forward. One man who knows this is Yale graduate Aleksey. He applied for a job at a major investment firm. And he handed in this - the quite frankly stunning introduction to his mind that you're about to witness. Remember. Impossible Is Nothing...
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Grooverider Goes To Jail For Carrying Tiny Drug Stash

by C J Davies

If you’re going to commit a crime, it’s best to do it in Britain.

Why? Because on these blustery shores, a convicted mass-murderer with bullets for teeth could go on a Samurai-sword-wielding rampage through a nursing home and still get off with three hours’ community service scrubbing a wall. Somewhere further afield – let’s say Dubai, for that’s indeed where this wee news story takes place – things are handled with a little less impunity.

If you need proof of this, the best person you could ask would be Radio 1′s very own Grooverider. The DJ – who pioneered drum ‘n’ bass back when it was an underground sensation, and before it got exclusively adopted by beanie-wearing Kensington kids trying to be ‘street’ – has found himself in a spot of bother with the Dubai authorities after being caught at the airport with two grams of cannabis in his pocket.

A four-year spot of bother, to be precise.

If you're going to commit a crime, it's best to do it in Britain. Why? Because on these blustery shores, a convicted mass-murderer with bullets for teeth could go on a Samurai-sword-wielding rampage through a nursing home and still get off with three hours' community service scrubbing a wall. Somewhere further afield - let's say Dubai, for that's indeed where this wee news story takes place - things are handled with a little less impunity. If you need proof of this, the best person you could ask would be Radio 1's very own Grooverider. The DJ - who pioneered drum 'n' bass back when it was an underground sensation, and before it got exclusively adopted by beanie-wearing Kensington kids trying to be 'street' - has found himself in a spot of bother with the Dubai authorities after being caught at the airport with two grams of cannabis in his pocket. A four-year spot of bother, to be precise.
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Celebrities Join Forces To Write Kid’s Book

by C J Davies

Hecklerspray tried writing a book for children once.

It didn’t get that far. Apparently – according to those ‘publisher’-types – children just aren’t interested in post-New Labour reinterpretations of Milton Friedman’s economic theorising. Apparently that’s all a bit ‘complex’ for them, and we’d be much better off with some predictable tract about a cat looking for a balloon. Christ almighty – no wonder they’re all so stupid, the pram-dwelling little bastards.

God bless those celebrities, then, eh? God bless ‘em. Better than us mere mortals in every way, they’ve decided to show us how it’s done.

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