Do you remember when Baddiel and Skinner weren’t annoying idiots?

We do. It was in this time they were at the helm of the show Fantasy Football League – a show that ran originally on the BBC as a weekly series, before being relegated to ITV and only being shown every other night during some international tournaments.

The novelty factor of it was that it was actually funny, consistently, and produced some fine pre-internet memes that fans of the show, and football in general, could share. Just ask Jason Lee. So here we go, in no particular order – and quite annoying as we couldn’t find all the clips we actually wanted…

10. The Jimmy Hill Interview

The legendary chinlord Jimmy Hill, being interviewed. And he’s drunk. It doesn’t exactly split many sides, but it raises a chuckle and it’s good to see the old man being mocked and shot some derisory looks from Des and the ‘tache.

9. Pele Was Shite

Probably one of the best gags FFL ever came up with, if only for its sheer audacity. Not only was Pele ‘shite’ but – if the lyrics are to be believed – he was ‘worse than Jason Lee’. Harsh, but the clip backs up the claims with some undeniable evidence.

8. The Adventures of Cristiano Ronaldo

By the time this series rolled out in 2004, the jokes had become a bit stale, and David Baddiel had managed to become even less funny. Which is quite the achievement. Nevertheless, these simple gags still make us giggle heartily.

7. John Motson Swearing at the Germans

It was a gag that had written itself the day Stefan Kuntz was born – it just needed Motty to let it loose on the public.  And he did so in his own inimitable style, with a comment so nonchalant and throwaway that you actually forget how utterly offensive he’s being.

6. David Pleat Proving he Shouldn’t be Allowed on TV

It isn’t the clip we actually wanted – we wanted to see Pleaty driving past on some more of his kerb crawling exploits – but this will have to do. It’s the commentator extraordinaire showing us once again why he should not be allowed on television.

5. Kevin Keegan: Domestic Abuser?

Pretty much what it says, and a pretty startling admission from a young Keegan. Just another example of the great one-off humour the show was so good at throwing at you.

4. Dave Higson Should Have Been a Sky Commentator

Bolton Wanderers’ own commentator, Dave Higson, with more of his pearls. What we really wanted to see was the ‘shining… like a light’ segment, but this is more than good enough on its own. Balls to Tyler and co. – this is really entertaining commentary.

3: Johnny Rotten Being a Prat

The Sex Pistols frontman came on the show and played up to his usual punker-than-thou attitude, acting like a massive berk and generally annoying everyone.  It was no real surprise to see Lydon wasn’t present after the advert break. Well, he was quite funny, but come on – he’s an irritant.

2. Peter Beardsley’s Phoenix From the Flames

So, so many Phoenix From the Flames sketches, so many choices – but this one wins out purely because you can’t help but love Beardsley from the very beginning, with his little confused Geordie voice asking for ‘no jokes about Quasimodo’. Classic.

1. Jason Lee

Well, how could we get through without mentioning ol’ Pineapple Head?  Granted, his name is in this about three times already, but hush down. Baddiel and Skinner managed to ruin the career of a player through their TV show, according to Jason himself, and it was hilarious. Everyone knows about it, everyone remembers it – just watch this one for a brief reminder of what they subjected Lee to.

It’s a nice trip down Memory Lane and it warms the soul – at least a little.

Just a shame we missed out on a few other classic moments like Andy Cole switching off halfway through an interview, ‘Saint and Greavsie Talk About the Endsleigh League as if it’s Important’, Bridgette Nielsen, Pleat’s kerb-crawling antics, trying to figure out what Cantona was talking about, ‘the funniest moment in football history’, a Big Hello to Dean Windass and many more we can’t quite think of right now. If anyone has any ideas where to find them online, give us a shout and we’ll give you a big pile of thanks.

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The day the forces of the undead and the deaddead join together in an unholy union has arrived. Live in fear, peons.

For you see, the recently (the other year) died-but-didn’t Amy Winehouse has been haunted by the ghost of the recently (the other month) died-but-did Michael Jackson.

But why did Jackson visit her, of all people? Why, to warn her of the dangers of drugs, obviously.

It would seem his spirit learned faster than his body did.

Following on from the life-changing news that Amy Winehouse (“nearly”) died in her ex-husband’s arms we were all fooled into believing it was Blake Fielder-Civil‘s advice that weaned her off the smackjuice.

How foolish we were to believe such a half-plausible thought.

No, it was actually Winehouse’s visit to a spirit medium during her self-imposed exile in the Caribbean that prompted her to really kick the habit.

According to a friend – the most reliable of sources, as we all know – and reported through the paper-we-didn’t-even-realise-was-still-going The People:

“She heard Michael’s voice telling her if she didn’t sort herself out she’d lose everything.”

Good advice from the deceased King of Pop, no doubt, but it does raise a couple of issues.

Firstly – Michael Jackson only died last month, and Amy Winehouse was away trying to sort herself for about a year. What this means is she was most likely doing a very poor job, having to not only wait until someone famous died, but also that they chose to come to her and instruct her to stop being a prat.

Secondly – it would seem like a bit of confusion from both parties in assuming an addiction to heroin and crack is the same as (an alleged) one to prescription painkillers. One is the result of psychological issues brought about by a physically and mentally scarring event in earlier life, whereas the other is the behaviour of a massive wanker. We’ll let you decide which is which.

It’s hard to actually accept this as anything but the insane ramblings of a few morons wanting to fill column inches (hello!), and some may argue that the world of spirits, mediums and hocus pocus is nothing but nonsensical garbage. Again though, we’ll let you decide what to think about Amy Winehouse‘s St Lucian adventure.

Nevertheless, it’s good to see the ghost of Jacko taking up a role in public speaking – we reckon he’ll really be able to heal the world from beyond the grave.

President Obama hates videogames – we have a reason to doubt the messiah. Took a while to find one that wasn’t borne out of racism or hatred of being fair to people, but we’ve found one.

Sure, it may be grasping at straws to find fault with what he’s saying, and sure it may just be the kneejerk defensive reaction of a gamer wronged that we’re seeing – with the potential for some old-fashion INTERNET JUSTICE to be doled out.

But hey – we welcome reasons to dislike popular people.

Over the last few weeks President Obama has been mentioning games a bit in some of his speeches. While to the untrained eye/ear they may seem like a few innocuous and quite plausible statements of fact, to us with finely-honed aural receivers and optical… headsets… we can see it is yet another brutal attack from the mainstream.

They want to destroy gaming and make us all bored, or read celebrity news sites or something.

But thank Wolf for the Entertainment Consumer Association and their endless defence of the common gamer from the evils of this man who wants to give free healthcare to everyone (what a sod).

For they have stepped up to the plate and cried “NO!” to Obama’s statements where he pointed out that letting kids sit around all day watching TV and playing videogames isn’t going to help them in school.

Backing up this guttural roar, the ESA have launched a spam-campaign… sorry – “letter-writing campaign” to tell the prez how games are actually a force for all good in the world and that he shouldn’t ban them, as he’s clearly – CLEARLY – trying to do.

Hopefully it will stop him from saying such evil things as:

Parents, take your kids — they’re going to have fun, they’re going to be in sports camps, they’re going to be watching TV and playing video games. Once a week, take them down — whether it’s to a soup kitchen or to volunteer on a community project — teach them what it means to be a real citizen. You’ll find that actually the kids love it, and it’s going to make a lasting impression on them.

Or the ferocious outburst where he said:

To parents, we can’t tell our kids to do well in school and fail to support them when they get home. For our kids to excel, we must accept our own responsibilities. That means putting away the Xbox and putting our kids to bed at a reasonable hour. It means attending those parent-teacher conferences, reading to our kids, and helping them with their homework.

Since Jack Thompson buggered off people really have been grasping at straws as to who to slate, haven’t they? All Obama has said is that we should pay attention to what Kids These Days do, and not let them sit around all the time being big fat fatties.

Lest we forget though: the internet never loses a fight. Not even against the most powerful man in the world.

THIS WEEK: We decided we’ve had enough of this column and hecklerspray in general, and that we’re going to do a runner to Aruba with a seventeen-year-old cabin boy named Sven. As of next Monday, at least. Oh, we lost at FIFA 09 online a lot too, and scared people with our angry shouting.

In a bold move to try and make people remember who he is, Blake Fielder-Civil has claimed Amy Winehouse died in his arms.

The problems here are twofold: one – it’s only nearly died, thus removing most of the impact, and two – who the hell is Blake Fielder-Civil?

Answers on a postcard please.

Even faced with this wall of evidence pointing to the fact that no one cares or knows who this plum is, The Sun still went and chatted to Amy Winehouse‘s ex-husband where he revealed the astonishing facts of a regular junkie party for the former couple.

Though, to be fair, it’s not so astonishing when you factor in that he’s a massive druggy, she’s a massive druggy (or at least was) and the combination of druggy plus druggy usually equals nearly dying.

Romanticise the notion, use fruity language of love, be so utterly frank about how scared you were and net a few grand from The Sun (as well as your ex-wife) in the process if you so choose. Thing is, you’re still just a couple of junkies ODing in a grotty room.

He described the situation thusly to the paper:

“She started having a fit on the bed. She slid down on to the floor before I could stop her. She started quivering again and it suddenly grew into what seemed like a full-blown epileptic fit. I was panicking. I didn’t know how to help her. I was out of it on drugs as well – and was sobbing and crying out: ‘Amy!’”

Blake Fielder-Civil – the caring man’s smackfiend – went on:

“I knelt over her as she kept fitting. But then suddenly she just passed out and stopped breathing.”

Fortunately (depending on how you feel about Winehouse), Blake was just about capable to put Amy in the recovery position, make sure she didn’t swallow her tongue and some other stuff that stopped her from dying – all while high. What a hero to us all.

Ladies and gentlemen, our new superhero: Smackman.

Not content with being a caring addict-cum-Smackman, Blaaaaaaaake went on to try and turn Amy off the horse following the incident:

“She had everything going for her. But she ended up behaving badly just to shock. After a while that just becomes a bore. I’d warned her to stop.”

Yep, that’s exactly how we’d describe heroin: boring. His speech was such a rousing success that she had to run off to the Caribbean for a year to get clean. Well done all!

Though maybe Amy Winehouse could have warned him to stop wearing such shit hats to return the favour.

Much can be said about Heather Mills. Much has been said about Heather Mills. It’s safe to say that we aren’t the only ones who have said things about Heather Mills.

So we did kind of expect her to fight back in some way, what with her being a bit “interesting” in the head.

What we didn’t expect was that she’d wish cancer on anyone who had ever wronged her, tumours on those who had slighted her and death to those who gave her funny looks.

Sure, she denied she’d actually said that, but we happen to trust The Observer over Bionic Commandette.

Let’s make one thing clear: hecklerspray is not the type to unfairly judge people, places or things, as we are really, really nice.

Unless it’s Heather Mills. And even then, technically, it’s fairly judging her.

Where some celeb-types attract scorn simply by being who they are
(and through the help of millions of squawking, cloying, piss-stained females), or by dying, some bring it on themselves by being a massive, massive twat.

Who would like to guess which side Heather Mills falls into?

And now – as we believe The Observer – we have an even better reason than before to slate the self-obsessed, sympathy-hungry eterno-victim.

In an interview printed this past Sunday, Heather Mills reportedly said:

“The truth always outs in the end – no-one gets away with those things. Certain journalists have written horrible things, and then they’ve got cancer, or they’ve had a tumour, or they’ve died. And it’s terrible for them, but they’ve done really evil things. I truly believe things come back round.”

Why the paper would print her as saying that without her actually saying it we do not know – it’s pretty obvious they would get the crap sued out of them. But the woman with the best hecklerspray picture available on our database quickly backtracked, through her new favourite means of communicating with us peasants: Twitter.

It may just be our mind working overtime, but that does seem very much like a comment from a hecklerspray user. She later added:

We may be gullible – we may be – but Heather Mills did say:

“The truth always outs in the end – no-one gets away with those things. Certain journalists have written horrible things, and then they’ve got cancer, or they’ve had a tumour, or they’ve died. And it’s terrible for them, but they’ve done really evil things. I truly believe things come back round.”

Apparently.

When the list is finally produced covering the ‘Things We Absolutely Do Not Want To Ever Know About, Ever’, this will be right up there at the top.

Nobody needs to know that Sam Ronson has apparently bought Lindsay Lohan a big pile of sex toys for her birthday.

We didn’t need to know, we didn’t want to know and we feel a bit sick now. Which is why we had to tell you lot, so you can feel as ill as we do.

Yep – sick as a dog.

When looking through what there is in the world to report on we went through many reasonable stories – the ever-stunning Mickey Rourke fighting roadworks, the ongoing saga of Jordan and Peter Andre which we all care so deeply about or even the court appearance of the now-less-frightening Amy Winehouse.

But even though they were the better things to report on, we had let out eyes rest for too long on the news that Sam Ronson had allegedly bought her on-off-in-out-on-through-again girlfriend Lindsay Lohan a basket of dildos.

Sometimes we wish our eyes would just piss off and stop relaying information to our brain, just so we didn’t know anything about this ever happening.

Even if it isn’t true – it is from the reputed journal that is the National Enquirer, after all – it’s still a sick enough thought to make us actually want to die. Or go on a killing spree. Probably more the second one, as hecklerspray values its own life over that of others.

As the Enquirer said with its evil, evil, eye-poisoning words:

“Samantha presented her with a gift guaranteed to create lots of buzz – a big, brightly gift-wrapped basket of sex toys selected by herself. She spent hours shopping Hollywood’s erotic emporiums for the items.”

Going so far as to throw in a “buzz” pun makes it more sickening than we ever thought possible. We thought it was bad that the video of Michael Jackson‘s head exploding was released about thirty seconds after he’d died, but this is a new low.

We hope you’re all happy now. In our pursuit for excellence, we’ve had to learn this information. To consider this thought. To think about Sam Ronson, Lindsay Lohan and a big pile of rubber tallywhackers.

We blame you, and only you for this.

News likely to shock anyone with eyes, a brain, at least an ear and possibly a face just in! Love child scandal! Fiasco! Controversy! Other shocking words to grab attention!

For it seems that those who are fit to make claims – i.e. the British tabloids – are doing just that, in claiming that Michael Jackson has an illicit love-baby who is now a full-man.

Yes, a full-man named Omer Bhatti, who also happens to be a Norwegian rapper.

Well that’s it settled then – if he’s a Norwegian rapper he has to be Michael Jackson‘s illegitimate, product-of-a-one-night-stand son.

But wait – there’s science involved too! For the non-believers out there, who do not believe this potential child of Jacko could believably be his loveproduct, incontrovertible fact has been thrown the way of the world. For you see, Omer looks a bit like everybody’s favourite terrified-looking child, Blanket.

Scientific fact in your face, right there. Say what you like about waiting for actual proof, there’s still something special about the old-fashioned “possibly looking a bit alike, maybe” approach.

According to the best newspaper in the world, The Daily Mail:

The Thriller singer reportedly told close friends several years ago that he fathered Omer after a one night stand with a Norwegian fan in 1984.

The second best newspaper in the world, The Sun, quoted Omer’s father as using these words in a few sentences:

“Yeah, yeah, I know because I was watching. I told my wife, ‘Just wait until the press see this. It’s not a small thing’… Make what you like. I don’t want to discuss anything.”

What is really shocking isn’t the fact that Michael Jackson possibly has an illicit love-child. What is shocking is the fact that Michael Jackson allegedly had full-on, proper grown-up sex with a lady, in which he probably saw her completely bare.

Wasn’t he the type to normally have his spawn created from vats of primordial goo? Adult sex seems a bit out of character for Jacko, is all.

Regardless, if Omer Bhatti is Michael Jackson‘s son (who he got through proper sexing) then at least the little tyke is following in potential daddy’s footsteps in becoming the Greatest Entertainer In The World (who we haven’t heard of until today). Though we have to say it’s a bit strange he chose now to appear to the world, what with the will popping up and all…

We don’t want to say it – we have to.

Bhatti is reportedly seeking a DNA test as we speak, so this should be over sooner rather than later.

What better way to cheer yourselves up in these times of economic strife than through the knowledge that something you have nothing to do with, nor could ever hope of having anything to do with, has made a crapload of money?

There is no better way, as Harry Potter and the Half Order of the Philosopher’s Hallows has shown us all by raking in more than $100 million in its first day on release.

Puts you in the perfect mood for a weekend, doesn’t it paupers!

But can Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (Ha! We do know what it’s called!) possibly rake in even more cash to make you feel even more inadequate?

Yes. That’s a stupid question.

What Potter and co. have also proved is that the unassailable Dark Knight is actually pretty assailable. While last year we all thought it would be the biggest film ever, ever, ever and make all the money in the world, we were wrong.

We forgot the market for children and adults who like to read children’s books (must… resist… urge… to… say… “idiots”…) is pretty bloody massive.

The film has proven to be something of an unexpected hit, dealing as it does with themes of abandonment and the loss of innocence, even going so far as to involve some sex trafficking…

Alright, so that’s a lie – what do you expect us to say? It’s another Harry Potter film, and once again it’s made a hell of a lot of money like everyone always knew it would. Even Daniel Radcliffe’s cock couldn’t stop it from making all the money people have left to give.

Warner Brothers studio president, Alan Horn, let this revelation slip to the BBC:

“We owe this record-breaking opening to the remarkable fans who have stood by us and who stood in line to be among the first to see Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.”

Which must fill fans with confidence, knowing that the head of the studio has been able to make the link between people paying to see his movie and the incredible amount of money that comes their way – and therefore the ability to continue with the franchise.

It’s almost enough to make you think those in charge aren’t as dumb as they look, sound and probably smell.

Never let it be said we are anything but balanced, fair and righteous here at hecklerspray – we will always cover things from every angle available to us.

Which is why we’re now going to talk about the latest TV appearance by Peter Andre, where he gets all boo-hooey and says he’s all about his kids and stuff, and then completely fails to see the connection between apologising for his life in the spotlight then announcing he has a new reality show currently filming.

What a tool.

See? We’re not just mean to Katie Price.

Though she is a giganto-titted monstrosity of Lovecraftian proportions.

Following Jordan’s appearance alongside the slithering mass of matter playing itself off as human (known by many as Piers Morgan), we all secretly hoped this would be the end of things.

In fact, it wasn’t a secret hope at all. We just wanted this parade of monumental stupidity to end before we decided to end ourselves.

Unfortunately, the Australian with an IQ almost equal to that of a glass of water decided he should have his say and – true to the character he’s been portraying to the media – Peter Andre was a big ball of crying, caring, “honest” mess on This Morning.

“Honest” of course, because we have minds of our own and can see straight through any bag of carefully-managed PR “emotion” these celebrity types try to throw our way.

While we’re all for the whole “not talking about Katie Price in a bad way” angle and the whole “she shouldn’t really have gone on about the miscarriage on telly, as that’s a bit private” spiel, we can’t help but think he should have just shut up and cried a bit more at that point.

But bless the Aussie fool, for he doesn’t exactly help himself.

After the line of:

“It’s our fault… I know I’m going to make mistakes. Sharing your life so publicly can be a mistake.”

You would think Peter Andre would then learn to keep schtum and not flap his natterhole about anything else which could possibly harm his case. Well…

In fact, there’s no point in trying to put it any better than it’s already been done – read this sentence by the kids at Digital Spy, take it in and really think about what it says:

Andre added that he is now focusing on his children, his new album and his recently announced reality show, which began filming three weeks ago.

We’ll be honest, it’s not that hard to see what we’re getting at here, but we do know some of our readers struggle with basic literacy.

Peter – you come across like a mentally-deficient puppy, so it’s hard for even hecklerspray to hate you, which is why this comes from our barely-beating, shrivelled and calloused heart: stop the madness, retire from the public eye, get a job in a pub and bring up the kids to avoid this shit.

Though that would mean we’d have less to write about…

Summer means no games coming out, it means having to go outside and it means that all we can do is stare longingly at pictures of games that are going to come out at Christmas.

It is a sad time indeed to be a gamer, and one of the worst times for the affliction known as “always looking forward… itis… osis” whereby people insist on ignoring what’s about now and instead focus on what will be about in six months.

Of course, when the six months is up they just end up looking forward to the stuff coming in 2010, and so on and so forth.

The fools!

There are more than enough games around right now to get you through these painfully sunny days where you’re expected to actually move from your grotty little bedsit/parents basement.

Sod the sunshine/rain/overcast skies (delete as appropriate) – play inFamous, or Prototype, or revisit the Chronicles of Riddick and realise while it’s still great, it simply doesn’t have the spark it had on the original release.

Ignore the cries of happiness from the baying morons littering the bars around your homestead – they are lies. Instead, sit in your pants and shoot zombies with your equally-emaciated friends on Left 4 Dead. So they’re making a sequel too soon? So what – this one is out now, to play now – play it and shout at each other!

What we’re saying is – aside from the usual “avoid the outside as it’s full of tossers” thing – is that gamers as a whole need to learn to appreciate the here and now, and need to stop thinking that the best thing is just around the corner.

Titles never seem to get the appreciation they deserve on or soon after release. Instead they are hyped endlessly and looked forward to by thousands, only to be forgotten about until the inevitable retro feature a few years down the line which will ask “why didn’t we pay attention to it at the time?”

So live your life for the now, to the max – except not in that “to the max” way where you’re expected to jump off buildings into piles of flaming glass, or socialise or anything. No, we mean to the max in the sense of wearing the same pair of pants for four weeks as you attempt to finish Ikaruga on one life, and stop paying so much attention to what’s coming.

Though, to be honest, Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 does have night vision goggles with the special edition… and Borderlands is looking better by the day…

THIS WEEK: As well as remembering to put the ‘THIS WEEK’ bit in, we also realised that Tales of Monkey Island is pretty darn good, and that in future we should have some faith in Telltale‘s ability to… tell… tales. Anyway, back to the monkeys.

We feared this day would come and we tried to prepare for it, but it all seems so futile when presented with the horrible truth: Amy Winehouse is back in the UK.

We’re all to blame – the signs were thrust into our collective face – we were warned.

Recession? Warning. Global warming? Warning. Death of Michael Jackson? Warning. Idiotic fans of Twilight leaving semi-literate comments on hecklerspray? Warning.

We didn’t listen, we didn’t pay any attention, we let apathy win again and look where it’s left us – lumbered with that weird-looking sing-o-hag once more.

But wait – what’s this?!

Why, Amy Winehouse has apparently cleaned herself up and is back on track to making more reasonably-talented though still mind-numbingly dull music. Perfect for reams of muso-fashionista tossers to get all uppity about and re-declare her the queen of a type of music she merely emulates in a half-decent fashion.

Hecklerspray is in a hyphen-tastic mood today, it must be said.

We all hoped for the best when Amy Winehouse buggered off to the Caribbean last year. Regular readers should know that “for the best” actually means “that she wouldn’t ever come back to these shores again with her stupid hair and awful tattoos”, but then, a lot of regular readers seem to be 10-year-olds who cannot spell “I”.

Alas, it wasn’t to be, and a reportedly healthy-looking Winehouse touched down in Gatwick airport earlier.

While we did all think she’d gone even more mental over in the sunnier climes, with reports and pictures painting a poor prognosis, friends of the wailing banshee disagreed, telling The Metro:

“Reports of her partying on the island have been massively exaggerated… Amy went there with huge problems and has overcome them. She is back on track.

“She did a lot of exercise and sure she got a little drunk but that’s what you do on holiday – that’s rock’n'roll.”

Encouragingly, The Metro added:

But for most part the singer, 25, has been playing on the beaches and riding horses and even cooking her own pasta dinners.

Rock’n'roll pasta – thank shitting crikey for that.

We at hecklerspray hope that Amy Winehouse can prove to be a fine example to all those battling their inner demons, to all those who think it’s an unwinnable fight and to those who are on a constant back foot to the temptations of drink and drugs.

For you see, she has proven to everyone that it’s a simple matter of willpower, of inner strength and of proving to both yourself and the rest of the world that you can conquer anything.

That, and the ability to go on a self-imposed exile for a year to the Caribbean without having to worry about work or money while you’re there.

That part definitely helps.

There are some moves people will make to maintain credibility, and there are some moves which end up being quite misinformed.

Can you guess which side Katie Price (or “Jordan” if you prefer her hooker name) being interviewed by Piers Morgan (or “Twat” if you prefer his real name) would fall into?

But what if we throw in the fact that poor Katie broke down in tears during the interview, making out as if she were the victim to Peter Andre’s evil ways?

Then it would be secret option three: you’re only hurting yourself and my god we wish Piers Morgan would just die.

In an interview set to air on the channel that knows not how to make good telly – ITV1 – Katie Price talks to Piers Morgan and… good god he’s a disgusting weasel of a man.

We mean, she’s bad enough and it isn’t like Peter Andre is much better – the man is a simpleton – but Piers Morgan? Honestly. Whelks have more appealing personalities than that gutterscum. He’s so much of a prat Jeremy Clarkson punched him in the face – when one of the biggest anuses on TV hits you, you know you’re doing something wrong.

Where were we?

Ah yes – so Peter and Katie split up, then there was some ruckus about who gets the kids, when they get them and blah blah blah then some other meticulously-managed PR-shit came about and lo, the two were still featured all over every magazine in the world.

It’s hard to care.

A source said some words which someone took down and eventually got said words to Digital Spy:

“Katie is fed up with the public backlash against her. Unfortunately though, her version of events is rather different to Pete’s.”

Let’s do some scientific-type study here then. Her version of events is probably different because she’s out on the lash all the time, getting her well-worn vagina out for all asunder and making new potholes in the street every time she drunkenly trips up.

Or at least that’s what we’d guess.

Katie Price may be a ridiculous-looking hag of a woman, Peter Andre may be… well – what is he, really? And as for the kids, well, they’re probably going to be messed up when they’re older, let’s be honest.

But Piers Morgan? Why, oh why…

The world of entertainment has lost another of its true greats, adding yet another name to the list of death in the last few months.

Following the hysterical splurge of affection for a man who just the day before was being mocked around the clock on Michael Jackson‘s death, through the shameful ignorance shown by the general populace on Steven Wells‘ death and after the rather embarrassing position David Carradine seemed to get himself into – before dying in said position – we have been left shocked by yet another loss.

Ozzy Osbourne‘s dog has been eaten by a coyote.

It’ll be alright – wipe away the tears.

The doddering metal god was saddened to learn that his little Pomeranian, Little Bit, was apparently eaten by a coyote. Why the animal thought Ozzy’s pointless excuse for a dog was something worth spending time killing we’re really not sure, but apparently that didn’t stop the demonic hound of hell.

But why didn’t the grandfather of darkness intervene and shake at the beast while swearing in an incomprehensible outburst to stop it from the (probably quite comedic to watch) mauling? Why, because he was watching the Michael Jackson memorial, of course.

So while Ozzy Osbourne was sat watching a tearful child, recently deprived of her father, speak publicly for the first time in her life – which happened to be to billions of people – one of his favourite pets was being torn to pieces by a naughty wild dog.

That’s quite possibly the saddest day that’s ever happened.

Here – look at something funny to cheer yourselves up… this will do.

A source told THE NEWS:

“Sharon and Ozzy love their dogs to bits. It’s like losing a family member. They are both devastated.”

And from the sound of things, the coyote loved it to bits too. Just for different reasons.

For anyone worried about the potential for wild animals to attack their pets – badgers are little fuckers, after all – the Department of Animal Services had these handy words at… hand:

“Wild animals are opportunistic, and coyotes fit this mould very well.”

Wild animals in ‘fitting the mould of wild animals’ shocker.

It’s sure to come as a shock, but try not to go for your gun straight away, whether it’s to go on a killing rampage or to turn the barrel on yourself. Just hold on. You can get through this.

It’s damn hard though. We’re struggling ourselves to come to terms with the news. Be comforted in the knowledge that hecklerspray is doing everything in its power to get to the bottom of this.

For you see, Robert “Rob” Pattinson has gone and got Kristen Stewart pregnant, if reports are to be believed.

Tweens and spinsters: he’s cheated on you.

Why the man with the face made of timber would want to risk the wrath of his fanbase – which consists entirely of troglodytes who communicate solely through shrieking, and would rather see “Rob” dead than with any other creature on this earth – we do not know.

The adult child has cojones, that much we do know.

Using our finest sources (clicking on the link to Digital Spy), we discovered this nugget of (possible) truth straight from one of our most reliable and oft-used news outlets (Australian NW Magazine):

“When [she] worked out she was late, she obviously started to thinking that she could be pregnant. And because of the timing, she thinks Rob could be the father.”

Well, seeing as that all but confirms the definite news that Kristen Stewart is pregnant by Robert “Rob” Pattinson‘s seed, we may as well speculate as to what it will look like, what it is to be called and what awful franchises it will star in, based on crap books written by a sexually-frustrated Mormon.

It will look like: a cross between its parents. i.e. Dull, woody and flat.

It will be named: Something that can be shortened for ease of use by cloying mentalists (otherwise known as “fans”). i.e. Robert “Rob”.

Awful franchises it will star in: Most likely the sequels to the Twilight saga that are bound to come about when that Mormon woman realises she wants a bit more money. i.e. ‘Mega Vampire Four: Effeminate Vampires In Space‘.

Though we have to speculate that maybe they hope the child could be the reincarnation of Michael Jackson. In which case they’re doing the right thing and shouldn’t fear repercussions from insane, violent fanbeasts.

Just think about it.

There is some news that just gets swept under in the grand scheme of things, even if it’s Twittered about and – as we all know – everyone in the world reads that pile of tripe.

Even news about Lucasarts classics being remade and re-released on one of those new-fangled ‘digital distribution’ platforms, called ‘Steam‘, or something, which has suffered in the wake of the news of Michael Jackson‘s death.

Wait – what do you mean Michael Jackson is dead?!

We hadn’t heard. Three hundred times a day. For the last four months.

Yes, since before he had even died.

Okay, so maybe part of the reason this has been overlooked is because this wonderful column which provides the sole source of gaming news for about 97 per cent of the population wasn’t here last week, but now it is, so pay attention.

We were Twatted with this earlier this week by some Lucasarts chap (not personally, mind):

“Amazing news coming Monday! Super excited! You have no idea how tough it is not to start yelling about it! But it’s secret! Until Monday!”

So, basically, we expected the world to literally explode with the incredi-ultra-megaton that was to be thrust our way.

Instead it was just the news that Lucasarts have realised they can finally get with the times and re-release a chunk of their back catalogue on Steam this Wednesday. Or “tomorrow” if you’re being pedantic.

And what are these games in question? See:

Armed and Dangerous
Indiana Jones and the Fate of Atlantis
Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade: The Graphic Adventure
LEGO Indiana Jones: The Original Adventure
LOOM
Star Wars Battlefront II
Star Wars Republic Commando
Star Wars Starfighter
The Dig
Thrillville: Off the Rails

So it’s a pile of games that were out a few years ago, one that was out last year and some bona-fide classic adventures (though strangely lacking Sam and Max or Day of the Tentacle). It’s not the haul we all maybe hoped for, but there is good and potentially good news to come.

For one, there’s the remake of The Secret of Monkey Island coming soon to PC and 360, meaning we get to look at a reskinned version of a game that we’ve replayed every year since it came out. So… that’s… life-changing.

Then there’s the new episodes of Monkey Island coming from Telltale. Which would be nice, were it not for the fact that the company have a questionable comic ability gland at the best of times, and this is a series which simply has to be funny. Don’t fail us, or there’ll be fire. FIRE.

And third, there’s the chance that if these re-releases on Steam and 360 do well, along with the new one on PC and Wii, we might get to see reskinned versions of the games we really want to see. Hello, Full Throttle.

Then again, there’s a chance we won’t, and this will all be as disappointing as if Michael Jackson died.

What do you mean he’s…