Everyone has a soft spot for Scaletrix and slot car racing. There’s something incredibly satisfying about watching little cars veer off the track at the squeeze of a trigger. No, not in a JFK way you monster!

The dream, as a kid, is to make bigger, fancier tracks with increasingly faster cars.

Well, a group of brilliantly nerdy old men from Finland have made that dream a reality, with slot cars that go at 100mph. The video that accompanies this article is brain-frying.

That’s right.

Some blokes have decided to make mega-fast overlord slot-racers that travel so quickly along a giganto track that your eyes will probably fall out of your head in your attempts to keep up.

Imagine actually being trackside.

You’d invariably puke into your hand with inertia. That, of course, is one of the finest pasttimes there is.

Anyway, no more waffle. What the little cars travelling at ludicrous speeds. Feel free to do the calculations and scale the cars to full size in your mind, and work out how fast they’d be travelling in the real world.

BROOM!

Ever wanted to smell like one of Marvel’s finest? Of course you have. If you said you’d be a stinking liar. See what we did there? Stinking. It’s a joke! A funny joke! Oh, shut up a second and we’ll tell you how you can.

We’ve always longed for our lady friends to smell like Black Widow, and for our friends to smell like rejection, fear and Michael Fassbender: just like the X-Men.

The good people at Jads International, which sounds a lot like one of the stripping troupes that frequently visit the HS bedsit (Nads International) are bringing you a range of aftershaves that are themed around the main characters from the upcoming, and not at all Marvel’s last chance-saloon, The Avengers.

Taking inspiration from Iron Man, Captain America, Thor, The Incredible Hulk (?!), Loki and Nick Fury, they hope to emulate the smells that maketh the man, so for Iron Man we’re presuming it’s a mix of sweat and WD40.

There’s the general BS of what ingredients have gone into them; notes of sandalwood with hints of lime, for instance, but we don’t think you’re going to admit to wear SMASH!, the fragrance inspired by The Incredible Hulk. You do want to get your end away don’t you?

You can buy Patriot (Captain America, duh), Mark VII (Iron Man), SMASH! (Incredible Hulk), Worthy (Thor), Mischief (Loki) and Infinity Formula (Nick Fury) from the Jads International website for much, much more money than they’re probably worth.

If smelling like a sweaty superhero isn’t your thing, then Jads also supplement a Star Trek inspired range of smells. Imagine how awesome everyone would think you were if you went into the office smelling like Sulu.

There’s also some perfumes for the ladies, but we’re still waiting for a She-Hulk and Dazzler inspired scent.

It must be hard being Pippa Middleton; trying to be a serious business woman and gallivanting around London, made all the more difficult because everyone knows you for being the one with the arse that stole your sister’s wedding day.

Poor, poor Pippa.

But a tabloid picture editor has come forward and announced that newspapers would be offered around 300 or 400 pictures PER DAY of the fitter Middleton, none of which are of her arse.

Paul Silver or the Daily Mail says:

“At the moment we have a situation where there must be nine or 10 agencies outside her door every day”

Hold on a minute… The Daily Mail?

Oh, we get it, all those pesky photographers camped outside Pippa’s pad must be a new breed of immigrant paedo paps that have come over here to make our beloved tabloid photographers jobless and bother our favourite Royal relations.

Those utter bastards.

The Mail obviously never run any of these photos, after all, what paper would run pictures of a woman we never hear speak and is effectively just a bit of posh totty that we’d like to think we have a crack at because she’s not an actual Princess like her older sister.

So this abhorrent invasion into Pippa’s private life is all for nothing, those immigrant paedo paps should just take their cameras back to where they come from and leave us all to bask in the warm glow of Pippa’s loveliness, sans pictures of her posterior splashed across the pages. [Her arse isn't literally splashing on the pages, Ed]

But oh wait, some of those 400 pictures sent to the tabloids everyday actually make it into the papers, because no matter how mundane the middle class Middleton is, her face still sells papers, because it’s attached to that arse that everyone keeps harping on about as if they’re banging you over the head with a double cheeked cushion, shouting, “SHE’S GOT A NICE ARSE, DON’T YOU REMEMBER!?”

We should all chip in and get Paul Silva a replica Queen’s Guard outfit that he can wear on that high horse of his.

Awesome or Off-Putting is a weekly delve into cryptozoology, ufology, aliens, medical marvels, scientific wonders, secret societies, government conspiracies, cults, ghosts, EVPs, ancient artifacts, strange facts, odd sightings or just the plain unexplainable.

Generally speaking, people don’t fly with out some kind of machine keeping them aloft. You know, like an airplane, a helicopter or an Acme rocket with a pair of roller skates. Non-generally speaking, some bat-winged guy flew 1000′ over Coney Island with tons of witnesses as reported by the New York Times.

Our initial thoughts are that it is a hoax, because all the witnesses say the thing was flying towards New Jersey. If this was true, it would have been flying anywhere but New Jersey.

A long, long time ago the New York Times printed a pretty weird story about a man with bat wings and frog legs soaring through the air over Coney Island. The date was September 12, 1880. They say he’d also been reported sailing over St Louis and Kentucky too.

To give you an excerpt from that article:

“One day last week a marvelous apparition was seen near Coney Island. At the height of at least a thousand feet in the air a strange object was in the act of flying toward the New Jersey coast. It was apparently a man with bat’s wings and improved frog’s legs. The face of the man could be distinctly seen, and it wore a cruel and determined expression. The movements made by the object closely resembled those of a frog in the act of swimming with his hind legs and flying with his front legs.”

We’re not afraid to tell you that we have no idea what ‘improved frog’s legs’ are – but it sounds delicious. We assume there was probably some batter involved. And a flash fryer.

This isn’t the first time we’ve told you about flying people, if you recall. Remember the floating Yogi? That was a strange story with baffling implications. What about the evil witch that tried to rip off the skin of a Mexican police officer’s face? She had to use some flying powers to pull that one off too.

That New York Times article spirals into talk about some preacher or something, who is obviously using a new technology to scope out the sins of cities he was about to preach in. That’s probably true. Voyeurism has long been the impetus to invention.

Which reminds us – we need to get back to the lab to work on our giant machine that renders retirement-home bathroom walls transparent. We’re already working on the patent so nobody steal that idea.

Also please tell us where you’re currently housing your ancestors.

For no specific reason.

Guess what tech fans! Those Chinese tinkerers have made another copy of an Apple trademark that’s bound to cause a stir, if not entirely offend fanboys and turtle neck wearers everywhere.

Having already found success with the SciPhone and a full sized replica Apple store, those crown princes of piracy, the Chinese, have now created THE ULTIMATE ACTION FIGURE, in the form of Apple founder Steve Jobs.

Steve Jobs. ACTION figure. ACTION… Steve Jobs?

Girls have their Barbies, boys have their Action Men and now, the long forgotten subset of androgynous hipsters that swathe around Shoreditch coffee houses will have their own doll to play and sexually experiment with.

Naturally, being an Apple product (albeit a fake Apple product) it’s ludicrously expensive, costing a whopping £65, doesn’t work with flash and it can’t play any real games. Not that you’d want it to play games, no, this action figure is all about the way it helps you do your design work, isn’t it?

You smarmy tit.

Rather predictably, Apple haven’t responded to this trademark infringement well. After all, what was Steve Jobs if not another trademark for Apple to profit off of?

Apple issued a statement to the Daily Mail, saying:

“Mr Jobs has not consented to the use of his name and/or image in the product.”

NO SHIT SHERLOCK, HE’S DEAD! We’re no experts, but we’re pretty sure it’s never going to be the easiest thing in the world for a Chinese company to obtain the image licensing rights to a deceased technology behemoth.

Aside from stating the obvious in the Mail, Apple are believed to have started legal proceedings against the two companies behind the Steve Jobs iAction figure, InIcon and Dragon in Dream.

They’re also rumoured to be preparing a press statement for the Independent that will confirm that the Pope is indeed a Catholic.

Donald Trump is a man of many talents; he pioneered the modern day comb over, he discovered that President Obama was actually a Senegalese street cleaner called Babacar Ousamane, causing him to resign from the Presidency and is rumoured to have been the man who killed Kim Jong-il, with a Chuck Norris style roundhouse.

But now, ‘The Donald,’ as he is known, has made his most audacious claim yet, he (and he alone) is personally responsible for the meteoric rise to fame of the 21^st Century musical behemoth, Lady Gaga.

That’s right, if it wasn’t for Donald Trump the world would never have been subjected to the second coming of Madonna.

Top man Trump, stated that it was his choice to have Gaga perform during the 2008 Miss Universe pageant. The resulting performance that she put on got tongues wagging, with people all over the world reportedly not talking about the pageant because they were too busy wondering who that entertainer was.

Naturally there was no mention of the fact that Gaga’s inaugural performance came just after the crucial Miss Universe Wank Threshold. After which it’s assumed that any and all viewers have finally reached their climax and so they’d better wheel out the performing monkey to distract them and give them a little bit of time to recover.

America’s answer to Lord Sugar wasn’t done there though.

Now that he’s successfully managed to convince everyone that he brought us Gaga, instead of simply being a bit gaga, Trump has begun work on his next outlandish claim.

Rumours have been circling Stateside that Trump is planning to claim that he is in fact the man in the moon, having acquired the advertising rights after a hostile takeover of NASA that took place just before they had to scrap the space shuttle program.

If you haven’t heard of rapper Drake, firstly, well done. Secondly, if you’re wondering what he’s like, then imagine a depressed divorcee listlessly cooing at a microwave meal for one, and you’re somewhere close.

Basically, Drake is the Michael Bolton of hip hop. He’s so lame that chocolate fireguards pity him, and we all know how useless they are.

Yet, somehow, Drake has amassed a number of fans. One of them has done something more ridiculously dim that even Drake himself would have to crack a smile. A very worried, OH MY SWEET JESUS ON CRUTCHES, IS THAT A MASSIVE TATTOO ON YOUR FACE?, smile. Wanna see? Course you do.

Some dimwit in LA has decided to have ‘DRAKE’ inked onto her forehead in the biggest, stupidest font that could possibly fit on her brain-devoid head.

The fan entered Kevin Campbell’s tattoo shop (Will Rise, if you’re interested) with her head and eyebrows already shaved, ready for her tribute to a rapper who is about as sensitive an a Christmas party for eczema sufferers.

The tattooist used to reside in the ‘Crip’ area of Harbour City so would be more used to doing things a bit more meaningful or dangerous. Alas, there was an idiot stood before him and he’s got bills to pay.

He asked the girl three times whether she was sure she wanted the terrible tattoo and explained the consequences of having a giant tattoo on her face.

“After that, the bad decision is on them”

When finding out it wasn’t a ‘gang thing’, tattooist Campbell found it pretty hilarious, commenting:

“I guess I feel bad that this dumbass got the name of the softest motherfucker in hip-hop tattooed on her forehead.”

Drake has announced a UK tour for March and April next year. The dates are:

Shut up you idiot, everywhere.

Here’s the photo of the tattoo.

Sometimes, here on the hallowed hecklerspray, we like to include things that are barely newsworthy. We’re not talking about the pointless goings-on of celebrities and such, rather, things that are just plain odd.

Like what?

Well, when you see the bemulletted man who we’re calling The Detroit Whistler, you’ll know exactly what we mean. He can whistle like a champ! Not like Roger Whittaker though. This man seems to whistle from his Adam’s Apple. Watch. Widen your eyes.

Seriously, you may think you’ve seen all-manner of wonderful voice trickery, amazing beatbox and sound-effectery, but you’ve seen nothing ’til you’ve watched The Detroit Whistler in action.

He could well be the greatest man who ever lived. LOOK AT HIS ACE DETROIT PISTONS SWEATSHIRT FOR STARTERS!

Not only that, he’s starring on clearly the greatest television show ever aired.

Keep an eye out for the various fashion gurus in the audience, not to mention a tiny baby who looks like Super Mario  and, for the best bit, someone knocking over a load of bowling balls, scurrying around making a racket while a TV show gamely plugs on.

That’s all rubbish compared to the wonderful, majestic Detroit Whistler.

NOW WATCH

Awesome or Off-Putting is a weekly delve into cryptozoology, ufology, aliens, medical marvels, scientific wonders, secret societies, government conspiracies, cults, ghosts, EVPs, ancient artifacts, strange facts, odd sightings or just the plain unexplainable.

Today, Mexico is mostly known as a place you don’t want to vacation for fear of getting kidnapped, murdered, then chopped up and stuffed into a pinata for your little nephew to discover at his sixth birthday party.

If drug cartels ever actually use that technique, please accept out apologies in advance. Seriously. And tell your nephew we’re sorry in advance too. Also tell him that should this ever happen, you’ll be in a better place.

The point being – Mexico is a pretty strange place. It’s jam-packed with all sorts of paranormal mumbo-jumbo. The most recent we’ve learned about is called the Zone of Silence – and it’s complete with disappearing radio transmissions of all sorts and disappearing men in bright yellow slickers.

Paranormally speaking, Mexico is full of all kinds of awesome stuff. Remember the flying witch? What about the UFOs as documented by the Mexican Air Force? Throw Quatzequatel on top of that pile and you’ve really got something.

Well today we’re bringing you another story from the land of salsa and dirt. It’s about a place known as The Zone of Silence. The Zone of Silence is called that because it’s thought to suck up any sort of transmissions emitted – be they radio, cell phone or what have you.

As Mexicolesstraveled.com explains it:

“…in 1970 a faulty American Athena missile fired from the White Sands Missile Base in nearby New Mexico went off course inexplicably and crashed into the mysterious desert region and made the world aware of the unique and apparently unusual properties of the area. Subsequently a team of U.S. Air Force investigators, with Mexican government approval, journeyed to the crash site and made an unexpected discovery. Within an unspecified and sometimes shifting area within the Zone, radio signals fail to travel through the air, creating a type of dark zone. No television, radio, short wave, microwave, or satellite signals seem to penetrate this zone. The name, Zone of Silence, was quickly adopted, and researchers began flocking to the remote location shortly thereafter.”

Of course that’s not about the birth of the zone – just it’s discovery on a larger scale. One instance of the Mexican anomaly dates back to the 1930s. As AboveTopSecret tells us:

“One of the first known instances of “odd behavior” coming from this location…. comes from around the 1930′s…. from a pilot called Francisco Sarabia. Upon flying his aircraft over the mysterious site, he noticed that suddenly, and without any warning, his radio had completely stopped working. The rest of the instruments on the plane had seemingly either stopped working, or had gone completely wild also.”

That sounds quite a bit like the Bermuda Triangle. And although airplane gadgetry running amok is interesting and all – disappearing good Samaritans dressed like Paddington Bear bring everything to another level. This next bit is taken from Strangemag.com:

“On October 13, 1975, Ernesto and Josefina Diaz, an enterprising couple drove into the zone in a brand new Ford pickup to collect unusual rocks and fossils which can be found in great abundance. As they busied themselves in their activity, they noticed that a desert rainstorm was heading toward them. Hoping to avoid being caught in a flash flood, they wisely packed their vehicle up and sped off, but not fast enough to avoid the relentless rain: the track ahead of them turned into a swamp: the pickup was quickly trapped and began to sink in the soft terrain.

“While the couple struggled to keep their vehicle from submerging into the mud, two figures approached them, waving at them amid the torrential rain. Two extremely tall men in yellow raincoats and caps, with unusual but by no means alarming features, offered their assistance to help them get underway again. The men instructed the totally drenched couple to get inside the pickup again while they pushed. Before the couple realized, their vehicle had popped out of the hole and on to firmer ground. When the husband got out of the pickup once more to thank the two men, he realized they were gone. There were no footprints in evidence or any surface feature that could have concealed their departure.”

And there it is all laid out nice & neat. Mexico’s Zone of Silence is indeed a strange place. The government there has even set up some sort of scientific base right smack in the middle of it. They say it’s to study the plant life or something of that sort, but some believe it’s there for far more paranormal reasons.

Us – we think it’s a drug depot. After all – it’s Mexico.

You know what market hasn’t been tapped? A market that really has been crying out for someone to fill? The ironically loved 90s one-hit wonder alcohol market! So thank the stars that Hanson are here and flogging a beer they’ve developed!

That’s right, music brothers Isaac, Taylor and Zac Hanson are in the process of developing an Indian Pale Ale which won’t be stocked by an real ale enthusiast pubs in early 2012.

Of course, what with it being pop related, it’s going to need a pun-based name, right? Get ready to wonder what it would be like to order a foaming pint of MMMHop. And how dare you assume that we made that name up.

Without any trace of irony, Zac Hanson, speaking at the Oxford University Union on Monday night, said:

“We of course make records, they are fundamental to what we do, but we wanted to create a brand so that our fans have a greater experience.

“What is vital is that Hanson merchandise is quality and not made solely with the purpose of profit. We have a board game and even a record player to play our last record on, but we will never make dolls, lunch boxes or toothbrushes that play our songs for example.

“It’s vital our fans have trust in everything Hanson do. In fact we are soon going to be selling our own beer, I’m not even joking. MMMHop IPA anyone?”

Get all that? There’s a whole bunch of merch out there that no-one has bought because Hanson haven’t been at all relevant since the ’90s.

Of course, making your own beer is in vogue for musicians. For a few months now, you’ve been able to buy the Elbow-developed Build A Rocket Boys Beer and Def Leppard’s Joe Elliott launched a lager named Down ‘N’ Outz.

It’s more usual for a band to get a taste for wine and such, because it means you can have regular holidays to vineyards in France and Italy on the expenses, but y’know, lager… drink of the people… people’s bands… all that bullshit.

Whatever.

Next week: Nik Kershaw releases Pot Noodle rival called Wouldn’t It Be Rice and Chris De Burgh sets up Lady Is Dead funeral parlour for ‘a greater fan experience’.

Our good friend Michael Barrymore has been hitting the yayo pretty bad. Think it’s time we staged an intervention. After all, he is our good, close personal friend Michael Barrymore, whom we care for. And as the good good friend of our friend Michael Barrymore, we need to be on hand to cater for all of Michael’s post 2005 whims.

Such as wiping his constantly replenishing cocaine moustache, or respectfully reporting the news yesterday that Mike has been arrested for his lovably endearing and altogether totally fine hobby.

At around 4am yesterday morning, the former TV presenter, and ex-guy-people-used-to-like was arrested near his flat in London with ‘unidentified male friend’ (nudge, nudge) for the most extreme of winter sports (that’s a cocaine joke, cocaine fans). The news of which, came as a shock to us all.

Not an actual shock, obviously – just a shock that someone would give half a chuff about arresting Micheal Barrymore for cocaine abuse in 2011.

Sure, Michael’s been through a lot over the past 800 years. What with Strike It Lucky, and that poorly received Hitler impersonation on Celebrity Big Brother, and all the rest of it. And as the old Japanese proverb goes;

“When C4 decommission your rumoured comeback chat show, just take some cocaine instead.”

Or if you’d prefer something a little closer to home, as Chumbawamba once said, “I Get Knocked Down, and Then I Stay In An Eternal Ebb Until The Day Of My Arrest, Where I Finally Get To Be Close To People Again”.

You know the one.

So, as you can see – a whole plethora of signs have been leading Michael this way for quite a while now. Especially when the big boost from CBB did not sow the spermatozoon of that vibrant resurrected career we were all secretly gunning for after all the ‘stuff’ (God, you guys and Michael Barrymore’s ‘stuff’. That’s all you ever go on about, isn’t it?) and instead went a little bit like this:

So all in all, we did actively try and give Michael the whole back sack and Robert Downey Jr. treatment. We really did. As it stands – probably best off letting him enjoy his nice cocaine in peace now, and we’ll just remember the good times.

No no, we said the good times.

That’ll have to do.

Medicine is a complex and confusing thing. After all, you have to be quite intelligent to hack people open and cut out all of their bits and pieces. Saying that, it seems any American can get a license to administer drugs, just look at ‘Sexy’ Dr. Conrad Murray.

Gone are the days when we relied on home remedies and concoctions via old wives tales to cure our ailments. Now we have state of the art machinery to diagnose our woes. Or if you’re afraid of going to the GP you can just use the internet to work out what’s wrong with you. They’ll only Google it anyway.

However, not all medical procedures are necessary. Some people use them to improve their appearance. Hollywood types like to inject botox poison into themselves to render them incapable of forming a facial expression. Others take it that little bit further and like to cleanse their anus of any bunged up faeces. Step forward Kourtney Kardashian and tell us why enemas are life changing.

Unfortunately there is more than one Kardashian out there. Kim of course is the ringleader of the sisters who do nothing more than waltz around filming reality TV shows to keep moronic people occupied and away from the public. From our knowledge, the Kardashian family seem to have a thing for the letter “k” Kourtney also has relatives named Kris and Kylie. Essentially making them the “KKK” family. That joke’s as funny as it is alliterative.

With Kourtney’s sister Kim Kardashian “enduring” a highly publicised wedding and quickie divorce, you’d think that this would be the moment where Kourtney could show the world what she’s made of. Shunning the socialite tag, it could be a time to rebrand the Kardashian name and for once, say something intelligent. But that didn’t happen; taking to Twitter, she posted the following:

“I love oil enemas! I recommend them to all of you freaks…trust me when I say life changing! #kktny”

Brilliant, we’ll go and switch off all the life support machines keeping coma victims alive, shove a tube up their anus and bring them back from the brink of death. DON’T THINK WE WON’T, A CELEBRITY SAID IT WAS FINE TO DO, SO IT MUST BE OK. As for the hash tag, Kim is currently promoting yet another of her brain melting programs with one of her K based sisters. We can’t be bothered to research which one.

The only thing we’d like to know out of all this is what sort of oil she used to give her backside that extra clean feeling, so turds could easily slide out. We’ve deduced the following:

1. Olive Oil – Perhaps Kourtney misses crispy chips and detests soggy fries when they’re plated up with a burger. In an alternative cooking first, the olive oil when mixed with anal fluids could make the perfect crispy chip. Who’d need a deep fat fryer then?
2. Petrol – Cars need oil to keep them lubricated and on the move. But with world supplies dwindling, an alternative source needs to be found. Though how do you find a solution and help the environment and keeping carbon emissions low? That’s right, stick a few litres up someone’s behind and see if vehicle performance increases, or simply breaks the bloody thing.
3. Chestnut – It’s coming up to that festive time of year when everyone gets merry on cheap sherry and dishes out presents. Christmas carols speak of chestnuts roasting over an open fire, but how about up the bum? Celebrities are always looking to go one step further and this could be a contender for a late celebrity perfume called “Nutty Delight”.

But at least Kourtney Kardashian has a clean arse. It doesn’t really matter though as she seems to spout most of her shit through her mouth.

There’s nothing better than a nice antique leather chair to help you relax after a long day at work.

Well, this theory may be put to the test with the announcement that Nancy Dell’Olio is to pose naked in an upcoming edition of everybody’s favourite spunk-rag, Playboy.

The Strictly Come Dancing star is apparently really eager to show everyone just what Iggy Pop’s chuff would look like if he were a woman.

A source close to Dell’Olio says that, “She’s willing to show top and bottom in a tasteful way.” Which is kind of horrifying when you think about it, unless you’re into that sort of thing. We’re looking at you Wayne Rooney. Don’t pretend you haven’t wanted this ever since Sven introduced you to his 156-year old wife for the first time.

The deal is worth a reported £250,000 and hinges upon whether Hef can come up with a suitably ‘exotic’ location in which to reveal what once lurked under Nancy’s leotard.

So, when your next jazz mag drops through the door in that discrete brown envelope, just be aware that when you open it up you may find the lovely Nancy Dell’Olio, spread-eagle on a beach somewhere, sipping on champagne and winking at you despite her eyes being covered by some obscenely large sunglasses.

For those of you that can’t quite picture that, here’s a top hecklerspray tip, shave your scrotum, liberally apply some fake tan (and when we say liberally, we’re talking at least 2 bottles), then shove a mirror between your legs and stare at it until you’ve stopped throwing up.

Thanks Nancy, you’ve managed to ruin both leather chairs and our own scrotums for us in just under 300 words.

Awesome or Off-Putting is a weekly delve into cryptozoology, ufology, aliens, medical marvels, scientific wonders, secret societies, government conspiracies, cults, ghosts, EVPs, ancient artifacts, strange facts, odd sightings or just the plain unexplainable.

If you stumbled across the body of an alien, what would you do with it? Other than taste it, we mean. We’re a bit dog-like that way. If you ever see us in the park gnawing on a squirrel leg, that’s why.

After we’d given that alien body a good chew, though, we’d see if we could sell it somewhere. For millions in Chinese dollars, whatever those are called. We definitely wouldn’t keep it in the freezer portion of our cheaply made Russian refrigerator. That’s what Marta Yegorovnam did when she found one.

And now she’s ready to tell you all about it.

Every now and again somebody somewhere finds a very well preserved alien body that they won’t let anyone see, touch or sniff. Remember the one found in the Andes that we told you about a while ago? Well another one just popped up.

A woman found the body a few years ago – we’ll let the Daily Mail tell you about it:

“After other claims of extraterrestrial life turning up in Siberia, the latest is from a Russian woman who says she kept a frozen alien corpse in her fridge. The mysterious ‘lifeform’ was reportedly kept by Marta Yegorovnam in her fridge in the western Russian city of Petrozavodsk for two years, while she took five pictures to prove its existence.

“The ‘body’, the third alien sighting in Russian in recent months, was reportedly retrieved by Miss Yegorovnam from a UFO crash site near her summer house in 2009. She says she approached the flaming wreckage and crumpled metal which she described as ‘unbearably hot’ and near the twisted hulk lay the dead alien. The ‘creature’ is two feet long, has an enormous head, large bulbous eyes and an appearance somewhere between a fish and a humanoid. It also appears to have what looks like a string-like arm protruding from its body.”

And there you have it. You should really scoot on over to the previously mentioned website if you want to see more pictures. If you want to see the actual body though – forget about it. It was confiscated by some goons from something called the Karelian Research Center of the Russian Academy of Sciences.

We don’t know what that is, and we’re too lazy to Google it.

The point is – Yegorovnam brilliantly built in a piece to her story that will keep her little frozen friend from being examined.

Whether the body is real or not – it sure looks like it’s be fun to chew on. If it squeaks with every bite we’d be all the more sold.

Russia and America haven’t ever really got along have they? They’re both giganto land-masses that just love antagonising each other with spies, wars and lousy impressions of each others accents.

At least the news is always impartial, eh?

Like hell. Have you seen Fox News? And Fox & Co (not a Top of the Pops dance troupe, sadly) have got competition in the form of Tatiana Limanova who made her feelings on Barack Obama perfectly clear in a news bulletin.

In a moment, presumably thought to be off-camera, commie-swine Tatiana flipped the bird at the mention of Barry Obama just before the bulletin switched to a VT.

Of course, this will wind up the Yankee Doodles no end and we’ll probably see Bill O’Reilly bearing his arse with the words “RUSSIA SUX” written on in marker.

Naturally, you wouldn’t get the wonderful British news organisations being so partizan would you?

Nooooooo.

Anyway, here’s the video of Limanova giving a big up yours to America. Let us all pray for another Cold War as a result, eh?