Spray Picks 06 - Things Of The Year
It's the last day of the week that Christmas was in, and that means it's time for the last of our Spray Picks 06 - where the hecklerspray writers look back on the year and go "Cuh, what was supposed to have happened there?"
Today is a doubly difficult day for us. Firstly we have to try and pretend like this wasn't written back in April to disguise the fact that actually we're all off riding the hecklerspray yacht to our private 90,000 acre lapdancer plantation in the Maldives, and secondly we've already listed our favourite music, films and TV of the year. What's left? Best DVD? We did that last year and it was rubbish. Best meal? That's just ridiculous. Best person? OK, looking back we probably should have gone with Best Person, but it's too late for excuses now. Instead, we're looking at the hecklerspray writers' favourite things of the year. Unforgivably vague, we know, but it's thrown up some fairly mental answers.hecklerspray's things of the year - cominatcha after the jump…
It's day three of Spray Picks 06 - where we half-heartedly make up for not giving you any real news by lazily cobbling together a retrospective on the year gone by in the vague hope that you won't really notice. Yay!
If you're reading this on December 27, it's probably because you've already steamed through all the presents you were given for Christmas, eaten all the sweets you were given for Christmas and realised that you hate all your family.
Ah, Boxing Day. Did you know that Boxing Day traditionally got its name from the time your mother - fuelled by self-loathing from all the food she ate 24 hours earlier - punched a bishop to death for looking at her funny? True story.
Well then, that's it for hecklerspray regular for 2006. Immediately after writing this we're going to lock ourselves in a small room to mentally steel ourselves ahead of a solid week spent playing endless games of semi-drunk, weirdly competitive games of Monopoly with our family.
Naughty or nice, what’s your poison?
What with Eddie Murphy carping on about how the baby inside Mel B isn't his, you'd be forgiven for forgetting the daddy of all effed-up, drawn-out DNA paternity tests - the one starring Anna Nicole Smith, her baby and her baby's two prospective dads.
Now we're not sure if this is brilliant news or awful news - the confusing, squawked, tear-soaked, mangled beyond comprehension version of 9 To 5 that Jessica Simpson sang as a recent tribute to Dolly Parton will never be seen on TV.
Now let's get one thing straight - hecklerspray is a man! And we mean a real man too. We take our orange juice with little particles of sand in it, we eat our candy when it's still in the wrapper, and sometimes we make sandwiches with only mayonnaise and bread.
Let's get one thing straight - movie stars are idiots. All of them. Apart from memorising two or three lines of text at a time and then repeating them back with their faces mashed into what they hope is a vague approximation of emotion, what do movie stars actually do?

