In news that will shock all right-thinking people, and leave the Beckhams kicking themselves that they didn’t think of it first, Beyonce and Jay-Z are attempting to trademark their baby’s name, Blue Ivy.

We’re not sure if we’re allowed to even write ‘Blue Ivy’ without giving them some sort of remuneration, actually…

Following two unsuccessful attempts by money-grubbing opportunists to trademark Blue Ivy, the ludicrous couple have filed a patent application with the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office to protect it, in the process managing to look really, really arrogant and a bit mental.

This patent furore is proof positive that they still, one month on, think that Blue Ivy is a good name, rather than the stripper-endorsed-detergent fuckstorm that it clearly is.

We were unsure of the bloody point of this whole ridiculous faff, until some random family law expert who has absolutely no connection to the Beyonc’Jays piped up on MTV (of all bloody places):

“Seeking the trademark forestalls competitors from using the child’s name and or third parties from attempting to sell the baby’s name back to the couple. They are likely trying to protect what they rightfully own or created, shall we say, by trademarking Blue Ivy’s name.”

See! It’s not mental or weird to brand your baby! It’s just a totally reasonable action, as long as you believe that having mixed up your sperm’n’egg cocktail and made a person grants you ownership not only over them, but over random, dreadful, clunking couplings of words.

In the spirit of the Beyonc’Jays’ flagrant madness, we’d like to announce that we are pre-emptively trademarking these names, for any future lovechildren that may emerge from the hecklerspray loins after we’re done huddling together for warmth:

• Bum Twaddle
• Green Flange
• Edna Deathray.
• Masonic Groatherder
• Elongated Gusset
• Extension Plug Waffler
• Sneaky Toothexplosion
• Barkquis HundredHandSlap
• Kenny Flymo
• Clodhopper P. Kneesupport
• James Parker

Outstanding idea, thanks, Beyonc’Jays!

Right. Here’s the future. In the year 200andGoogleitbecausewedidnot, once all the disinfectant from Leona Lewis’ Olympic Opening Ceremony Performance has sterilized Britain, there is to be some exciting news. Naomi Watts is going to do exactly what Meryl Streep has just done here in 2012.

But she’s going to do it slightly more creepier – and be all PRINCESS DIANA and everything.

Okay. Quick reminder on who Princess Diana is, just before everyone jumps on the bandwagon and starts holding aloft an ironic piece of bunting with a smashed arm of a princess on it or something.

So, Princess Diana was a woman, who married a man whom she did not love (That’s Prince Charles, that guy who once stood 20 miles from a working class civilian and didn’t complain about it at all) Alas, it didn’t work out – both parties allegedly got off with other people, and it was all a bit of a car crash to be honest.

It doesn’t really matter who Princess Diana was. Suffice to say her buttocks was not as pert as Pippa Middleton, she just contributed to various charities instead. Charities are like Children in Need, but they give the money to impoverished minorities, rather than a hedge fund for Terry Wogan’s minibar, per se. Like we say, it doesn’t really matter what charity is or indeed represents.

Here’s the lowdown on this Princess Diana biopic. Obviously, you all know how to type in ‘IMDB’ into Google, but you’re here now – and god, we may as well, right? The wonderlist for Completely Undocumented Life of Princess Diana is as follows:

NAOMI WATTS – PRINCESS DIANA
WHOEVER THE HELL WROTE ‘THE LIBERTINE?’ – SCREENWRITER

The power troupe of Hollywood there, in full force as per usual. The Breakfast Club of our hearts. The Emilio Estevez of our chronic loneliness. (Or ‘Paula Abdul’ if you want the clinical terminology)

Upon the casting, Naomi Watts said quite a large quantity of things about trophy polish and ‘must get a new diaphragm for Elton’s after-party’, but once we breezed past all that, the gist appears to be:

“It is such an honour to be able to play this iconic role – Princess Diana was loved across the world and I look forward to rising to the challenge of playing her on screen.”

Congratulations Naomi Watts! THIS IS ALL SO INCREDIBLY NECESSARY.

One mild concern – who’s going to play Cat Deeley in the crucial Paul Burrell performing terrifying the Chicago soundtrack with the vigour of a repressed 70s Gimp Candyman on Stars in Their Eyes scene?

Bit worried.

hecklerspray is massively gay. We’re so queer it hurts. Even the straight ‘spreezies are super ‘mo. You don’t care about that. You want to know whether Kelly Clarkson is a lesbian, for whatever nefarious reasons you have.

So is she?

Well, she doesn’t give the ‘bian ‘bian vibe to us. Not one bit. She couldn’t possibly smell of sex with another woman. Not that this has stopped people speculating that she is. And Kel’ wants to tell us all about it.

So what makes people think Clarkson is a lavenderist? Well, it seems to revolve around two things:

1. She’s single.

2. She’s not thin. Sometimes.

And so, with that, she absolutely must be dining at the hooded buffet, right?

Well, the singer revealed:

“People are really concerned about my relationship status. When I tell people I’m happy being single, they don’t believe me. They say: “You have to be miserable being alone.”

Yes, but when you’re not being happily alone, are you fingering women?

“I’m not gay. If I was, I’d say ‘I love women!’ That’s why it drives me nuts. But I feel like even if I did say it, people would be like: ‘You’re just trying to do that to win the gay audience.’”

Poor Kelly Clarkson. She’ll have to carry on staring at pictures of disgusting male members online ’til this all blows over. Or she releases a decent record. Whatever comes first really.

Cock it is.

Lindsay Lohan stepped out on the red carpet this week looking as young, sexy and stylish as ever. Wait, we mean the exact opposite of that.

The o/b/v/i/o/u/s/c/r/a/c/k/a/d/d/i/c/t starlet was papped at the amfAR New York Gala yesterday sporting tobacco-stained hair, meth teeth and accessorised her hot new look with a Grinch-skin coat and a vacant stare.

Want a look? You brave crusader, you. Just click the jump.

So, let us get this straight – despite looking, and no doubt smelling, like a zombie Farrah Fawcett, Playboy value pictures of Lohan’s vagina at $1million?

We’d sooner pay Li-Lo $1million to surgically stitch her legs together.

Or for NASA to build one of those Men In Black style mind-wipers to scorch this image from our retinas.

THIS WOMAN IS 25. We’ve seen radiation victims with a better complexion. There’s no way she isn’t doing this on purpose now or is this some elaborate prank?

Come April Fools we’ll all be laughing. Won’t we Lindsay? Won’t we?

Awards ceremonies are pointless, unless you win something at one of them. Then they’re the best thing ever for all of around 5 seconds (basically, ’til the free bar is closed). So should we get worked up about them? 

OF COURSE WE SHOULD! These junkets are there to be mocked mercilessly. They are arbiters of taste and all that is deemed good, so everyone should gather round them and poke them with as many pointed sticks as they can get their awful, grubby little hands on.

So you’ll be thrilled to know that a bunch of musicians are going to hold a protest outside Sunday’s Grammy Awards ceremony over a decision to unceremoniously axe 31 ‘ethnic and minority musical categories’ from the bash.

Now, we’re not saying that the Grammies are racist at all. However, this protest seems to be implying that is what’s going on here. Organisers of the protest are hoping that fans and artists around the world of Latin jazz, gospel and blues will join in and attend an alternative concert.

23,000 people have already signed a petition which demands that the Recording Academy reinstate Grammy awards for Native American and Hawaiian music, and reverse cuts in categories for Latin Jazz, Gospel, R&B and Blues that were axed in a seemingly pointless overhaul last year.

And some famous people have signed up too! Paul Simon, Carlos Santana, Bonnie Raitt and Bobby Sanabria are among those that aren’t happy with the cuts.

Spokesman Robert Sax (great name, lad) said that the protest would be held outside the Staples Center in LA before everyone tootles off for the Not Those Awards All-Star Latin Jazz Jam at a Los Angeles nightclub.

Jazz artist, Matos, says:

“We are holding this concert to remind music fans about all the great music that has been eliminated from the Grammys. To paraphrase what Frank Sinatra said at the first Grammy Awards in 1959, ‘Remember, the awards are about excellence, not popularity.’”

And who leads the pack at the Grammies? Well, Kanye West has seven nominations and Bruno Mars has a bunch too. Rihanna will also be performing, which really drives a nail into the coffin of the argument that the Grammies are a bit racist.

Oh well.

At least the cocaine dealers will be having a good time in the run-up to it.

Worrying reports are beginning to reach the hecklerspray news desk of spontaneous combustion among children. 

Reports so far are sketchy but it is thought that the exact demographic affected is girls & boys between the ages of 11 & 17. Parents are being advised to keep their children away from the internet for the foreseeable future to limit the risk of catastrophic explosion.

Experts have warning that if the spread of these fiery paroxysms isn’t stemmed immediately, it could lead to a cataclysmic chain reaction that could- if predictions are accurate- wipe out all human life on the planet, leaving Earth in the paws of Dormice.

Epidemiologists are hard at work trying to establish the root cause of the problem but rumours circulating on the internet suggest this may be the beginning of a phenomenon known as “Biebergeddon“- the destruction of life as we know it, directly proportional to the actions of Canadian pop singer Justin Bieber.

The exact “flash point” of this mysterious outbreak is unknown but our exclusive hecklerspray source has suggested that it relates to a crossover in fandoms between former Ellen Degeneres lookalike Bieber and UK boy band The Wanted. It is thought that Bieber’s acknowledgement of The Wanted on Twitter has sparked this epidemic of spontaneous combustion which is currently spreading across Britain and the United States of America, with many more countries likely to fall within the next two to three hours.

The offending tweet is reproduced below. It has been censored in case any teenagers happen upon it. Should any responsible adults wish to see the full tweet, an unedited version is available by clicking on the image.

Suggestions that the condition was exacerbated by Wanted member Tom Parker‘s response, suggesting that the two acts might actually be “bros” and therefore, in the modern vernacular, “friends”. This is allegedly responsible for up to 25% of the erroneous blow-outs.

Current government advice suggests that all children who fall within the demographic should be wrapped in fireproof blankets to prevent the spread of fire and should be quarantined in an area free of a broadband connection.

Parents are reminded of the potential dangers of so-called “smart” mobile phones which are able to grant access to the internet. A US/UK government task force is currently deploying quarantine units in the centre of all major cities, where laptops, tablets and phones can be deposited for safe-keeping.

So far, the UN has stopped short of declaring a State of Emergency and the British Medical Association & World Health Organisation have both moved to deny the existence of Biebergeddon, suggesting that the heightened state of alert is a result of tabloid scaremongering and that the actual numbers of spontaneous combustions are in the tens rather than the hundreds of thousands, as reported by major news organisations.

To all citizens of the world we say only this: stay safe out there & All Hail Our Dormice Overlords!

Remember David Arquette running off with a young cocktail waitress, leaving Courteney Cox all sinewy and single? It was horrible wasn’t it? Mainly because we had to think about David Arquette grunting over a young woman.

And now, we’re going to have to think about Courteney Cox writhing around and sweating as she’s back in the game. Kinda.

She’s admitted that make-out sessions with men make her nervous. Talking to Howard Stern (who else?), she explained she’s been abstinent since separating from Arquette and his weird child face with a beard stuck-on.

Cox said:

“No guy’s asked me out. I’m not saying I’m not ready to have a make-out session, it just makes me nervous. I don’t like to go out in general.”

Then, she talked about sticking her hand down her kecks and having a crygasm.

“I have sexual feelings, there’s ways to deal with that. It’s time for me to get out there. It’s not easy to meet people. They don’t call me.”

“I’ve not had a man since David… [I've] made out with one guy.”

The guy in question is a celebrity and no, we don’t know his name. Let us just assume she tapped-off with one of the cast of Friends. Maybe that staring, beady eyed coffee guy with the German name.

(Shh. It’s totally co-star Josh Hopkins)

Either way, one thing we’ll all have to live with now, is the thought of Cox’s weirdly taut body trembling with self-abasement while she’s gawping at online smut with a hand up her skirt.

No. We won’t pay for your dry-cleaning bills if you just lost your breakfast.

Ever since we all saw David Hasselhoff drunkenly eating a hamburger off the floor while berating his daughter, we’ve all thrilled at how damaged the former Baywatcher is. Not to mention that whole being under the impression he brought down the iron curtain in Germany thing.

The Hoff, for reasons only unclear to him, is one of our favourite celebrities to mockingly enjoy.

And, the good news is, is that he really hasn’t learned a thing. He’s as deluded as ever, growing his peas above sticks and saying, without a trace of irony, that he wants A-List superstar Russell Crowe for the Knight Rider Movie. That’d be the Knight Rider Movie which doesn’t ever, ever look like getting general release.

That’s right. A man who starred in the terrible slo-boober Baywatch and glazed idiot on the peering panel of America’s Got Talent has tweeted an invitation to Russell Crowe The Hollywood Actor.

Hoff said:

“Thanks mate hope to see you soon! Time for us to do Knight Rider the movie. Would love to hook up next time I’m in Sydney. Be there soon. Direct message me your email. Hope you’re well, bud.”

DaveHoff met Crowe in a hospital in Sydney. That’s all well and good until you hear that Hasselhoff is reported to have  danced for the young patients.

Surely there are law against such a thing?

Not only that, but while in Australia, Hasselhoff reportedly proposed to girlfriend Hayley Roberts during a walk up the Sydney Harbour Bridge. He posted photos on Twitter of him down on one knee and the couple kissing each other.

Next week, he’ll show us what he had for his lunch, post-digestion.

Kate Middleton is now a blueblood. She’s married into the Royal Family, which gives her special dispensation from the law. She’s probably allowed to kill people and run over vicars with combine harvesters while setting fire to piles of tyres and griffins.

HOWEVER. She’s not like the rest.

Y’see, our Kate is willing to not only walk around us plebscum, but also, do it wearing clothes that you can buy from shops. Seriously. Someone should beatify her now…. if they do Protestant beatification that is.

Kate Middleton is not only able to wear clothes AND walk around, but she’s also willing to do it on her own (and by ‘on her own’, we mean, without Prince William, but still followed around endlessly by Royal consorts, a legion of ladies-in-waiting, 400 sycophants and a security team)!

WHADDAGAL!

So what gloriously giving thing was the Duchess of Cambridge doing? She was attending a new exhibition by the late Lucian Freud at London’s National Portrait Gallery AND wore a coat by high street label Jesire for the occasion. Seriously. She’s like the new Mother Theresa or something.

Not only that, but One Of Us Kate wore Jimmy Choo heels, just like your Grandma used to wear when you were poor.

And where was Wills through all this? Well, he’s off playing soldiers with his posh friends in the RAF and has found himself posted to the Falklands for 6 weeks where he’ll occasionally appear before TV cameras in a flight suit, before being whisked off to some luxury underground barracks away from the proper workers in the armed forces.

While he’s gone lording it up in Argentina, Kate plans to patronise us all by perfecting her doe-eyed look at various charities around the UK.

A royal spokesperson told the Mail:

“The Duchess will have a handful of engagements while the Duke is away. She will visit all her patronages publicly at least once and continue to visit them privately.”

“It will be a busy period.”

It sounds like hell, the poor lamb.

Professional playground-trawler Caroline Flack has once again been spotted tongue wrestling with a foetus; this time, 23-year-old singer Sam McCarthy.

Despite take every precaution not to be spotted, eg. Standing in a public street outside a pub, the ‘couple’ were papped fondling each other outside the Crown & Goose pub in Camden.

While we’re happy to admit that at 32, she’s hardly Saturday night TVs answer to J. Howard Marshall, we can’t help but think there’s something wrong with a woman who constantly preys men with personalities as underdeveloped as their testicles.

While kids these days do have the best toys – Lego has come on leaps and bounds in recent years, it’s hard to see what she’s getting out of dating someone young enough to actually care that’s she’s on the X Factor.

The last time we spoke to anyone under 25 we had to spend the rest of the afternoon translating what was said using Urban Dictionary like some sort of Rosetta Stone.

She obviously misread the memo telling her that women in their early thirties are going to start to want kids.

Things older than Caroline Flack’s last two boyfriends:

• Webcams
• A Kardashian marriage
• That weird lump of gristle in the back of the fridge
• The baby from the Nirvana album
• Pamela Anderson’s breast implants

Think on.

Y’know rich, successful, universally adored and fancied Gwen Stefani? She’s not happy with her life. See, despite the fact that, now she’s single, she could do as she damn well pleases with whoever she goddamn wants to, she’s not liking the fact she’s a woman.

Poor Gwen. With those lovely woman boobs and lack of disgusting man-penis.

When Stefani comes back in the next life – which won’t happen because reincarnation absolutely doesn’t exist – she would like to come back as a human man.

She said:

“Until now I had two serious relationships. And one of the men I married!”

But has she missed out, what with having all that marriage?

“Absolutely not. A while ago a friend told me she dates two men simultaneously. That really blew me away! But in my next life I’m gonna come back as a man and behave like a bitch!”

She wants to come back as a man, but behave like a woman with two boyfriends?

Fine, whatever. If rumours are true that she’s splitting up with Gavin Rossdale (and you would totally dump him – have you heard Bush’s records? Exactly), then why doesn’t she stop this whole ‘waiting for reincarnation’ thing and just slag it up like the rest of us?

Well. Those of us lucky enough to attract other humans in a sexual way.

Either way, Gwen hasn’t learned her lesson at all and has a firm idea of what she finds appealing in a man. She is only attracted to people who are creative. Apparently, creative men are…

“super sexy”

Or, if you prefer ‘untrustworthy, impractical tramps’. Whatever floats your boat Gwen.

WAIT A MINUTE! SHE’S CALLED GWEN! WHAT IS SHE?! SOME KIND OF ’50s WELSH MINER’S WIFE? Sheesh. Can’t believe we only just noticed that.

Do you have a dog? Word to the wise – no-one actually cares. It’s your stupid, gristle-munching crap-factory and no-one else wants to deal with it outside of occasional petting of it when we have to visit your fur covered home that smells like dog’s teeth.

That’s because dogs are stupid. They’re impressively stupid. They walk into things, frighten themselves when flatulent and will forever be fooled by someone pretending to throw a ball for them. Dogs, in short, are idiots.

With that, someone ought to tell Eva Mendes who is ten shades of thrilled that she talks to her dog in French and is bowled over that it knows what she’s on about. Or rather, it has no idea.

Talking to those bright folks at Marie Claire about a stupid hound, Mendes says:

“It sounds so pretentious, but he learned his commands in French.”

Are we’re supposed to coo and whoop because, as well you know, when a celebrity has a dog, we have to care like they’ve had a baby (which we also don’t care about).

Se, Mendes brought a Belgian Malinois and called it Hugo. That doesn’t matter though. She could’ve called it ‘Bestiality’ or ‘Spadooey’ or a low guttural howl, and it would’ve eventually answered to it. Either way, Hugo was apparently ”rather intimidating”, yet, instantly obeyed Mendes’s orders for him to lie down or ‘act stupid’.

This awful, wretched beast has also bought her dog a beeper-controlled behavior-modification collar, whatever that means.

And so, Hugo talks French, mainly because Mendes talks French at it. You could grab a puppy and shout ‘testicles’ at it while presenting its lead and, HEY PRESTO! It will be under the impression that the medical word for balls means it will be going for a walk.

You could shout “Sie lassen mich sich erbrechen wünschen!” at a dog while pointing at the cupboard where you keep the food, and lo! It will think that the unpleasant German phrase means its dinnertime!

In short – people who talk about dogs should be punched up the arse. Forever.

He’s got creepy beady eyes and the skin tone of a bad waxwork model.  And the expressive acting of a bad wax work model.  And always seems to be standing awkwardly… like a bad wax work model.

Robert Pattinson, human or wax work, is mind bogglingly famous, the sort of famous that makes teenage girls soil themselves in excited glee at the sound of his name.  Which is odd for someone so incredibly dull.

Showing himself to be surprisingly aware of the world outside of his corner Madame Tussauds Pattinson has made the least shocking revelation ever to make headlines.  The statement also runs the risk of bursting his own fame bubble as his fans realise just how unremarkable he his.  Unremarkable and likely to melt in hot conditions.

The quote which may be the most misguided statment since the mayor of Hiroshima said “it’s only one plane, how much damage can it do?” Pattinson is reported to have announced to the world;

“Doing something like Twilight opens doors and it closes others. You can say, ‘Oh if I was still unknown, then no one would judge me.’ But at the same time, nobody would give a shit either.”

Which is very, very true Mr Pattinson. We do judge you, to be rather uninteresting and impossibly pale for someone made of meat.

You only get that passing glimmer of attention because you were That Guy In Twilight.  And weren’t you shagging That Lass From Twilight?

You still are, but you’re keeping it secret from the world?  To appear more interesting?  Good luck with that.

See, Pattinson is half right.  We don’t really care that much. We give less of a shit, more of a skidmark.

Its a matter of weeks since Beyonce and Jay Z popped out a sprog in a hospital which they cordoned off all for themselves (probably leaving patients to die in the street or something), and they’re already out getting drunk like irresponsible thugs.

Seriously. Blue Ivy Carter’s head hasn’t even had the chance to form over the fontanelle yet, the poor neglected thing!

Yet still, this ghoulish pair don’t care one jot, going out and drinking shots and champagne without a care where their child is. Blue Ivy was probably locked in the car or something. It’s all so unspeakably awful that we’re crying here. CRYING.

Hova and Bey stayed out ’til arout 4 am at Jiggaman’s club 40/40 according to various people staring at some drunk celebrities, clearly having nothing better to do with their evening.

An obviously concerned source noted that Beyonce attended the afterparty:

“She arrived with her mother, Tina Knowles ,” and her mother-in-law, Gloria Carter. After “sprinting through a side entrance” shortly before midnight, Beyoncé toured the club for the first time since its renovation”

So far, so spectacularly dull.

However, Beyonce was seen sipping ‘what appeared to be a glass of bubbly’ around 3am, while tottering around in a cleavage-erupting red dress and embroidered Christian Louboutin shoes like some kind of expensive prostitute… and all the while, Jay stuck around ’til kicking-out time, throwing drinks down his famous, but irresponsible neck with Nas and some marketing bozo called Steve Stoute.

All the while, Blue Ivy was nowhere to be seen. Out of sight, out of mind.

We can only hope for that poor, poor child’s sake, that she won’t be left to fend for herself in the wild again with her awful parents off having the time of their lives like they don’t have an obligation to look after their newborn.

This is all incredibly troubling. It seems Jay Z meant it when he rapped ‘I got 99 problems but my newly born daughter ain’t one’.

We’re legally obliged to parody 99 Problems. Sorry.

Iggy Pop impersonator Jennifer Aniston has gone on record to pooh-pooh the constant merry-go-round of slack-jawed speculation about her six-year-dead marriage to professional handsomeness salesman Brad Pitt, and her supposed feud with terrifying hose beast Angelina Jolie.

When Instyle US magazine asked Jennifer which misconception about her she finds most irritating, they were probably expecting her to come out with a light hearted quip about “people think I’m really like Rachel from Friends LOL I’m still milking that dry dry udder!”

However, she actually went on a sort of rambly rant about her divorce.

Aniston said of her annoyance:

“Which one? There are so many. I would say the triangle with my ex-husband – and that there’s a feud there. It’s constant. It’s a story headline that won’t go away, but it’s a money thing – (people make money off) a story that has nothing to do with reality.”

As if to prove something, she then waffled interminably about her new lover, Justin cousin-of-Louis Theroux, just long enough that the interviewers didn’t notice the delicious irony in her flagrant perpetuation of the very misconception she professes to despise.

But we’re onto you, Aniston. We’re onto you because we are serious investigative journalists with a keen nose for delicious irony.

We suppose, though, in a way, we kind of sympathise. Lots of people think we are locked in a steamy love triangle with two Hollywood stars, when actually we haven’t felt the warm touch of another human hand for ages, so the jokes on them.

Losers.

This was a guest post by Becca Day-Preston who in fact, is fighting them off with a large, shitty stick