Things we like and no like.

Folded:

• Public Enemies (it’s the real deal, if you can hack the grainy digi-video that is)
• First Class (always looks nice from the platform. Then again Lindsay Lohan looks nice from a distance too)
• Warrior’s Dance by The Prodigy (sounds like 808 State. Major compliment)
• Wimbledon roof (the BBC has dedicated 70% of their coverage to talking about it, so it’s nice that it works)
• Freeze Frame on DVD (a quite bizarre paranoid thriller from 2004, but Lee Evans is extraordinary in it)

Creased:

• Sex Panther (funny, but at £29.95 you may as well just buy a bottle of Brut and save yourself £29.90)
• Quiet coach (nothing quiet about six mobile phones going off at once)
• Happy Andy Murray (great tennis player, miserable as sin)
• Personal Affairs (usual unspeakable BBC Three rubbish. Probably been commissioned for a second series already)
• Lego Amy Winehouse (or a conehead, you decide)

We’re not going to lie.

Thanks to someone leaving the heating on, the UK has rocketed up in terms of temperature, leaving us hot, sticky and dressed in our underpants. As we write this, our sweat-soaked bodies are stuck to the leather office chairs and as we slept this afternoon, a lolly stick may have entered our back passage.

We just want to relax like you with some beer and as little clothing as possible. We’ll, before the judge tells us off again. Enjoy the lovely combination of electro, dance and hip-hop from Product.01. It’s all samples mind, but it’s good enough for you to get up and shake your sweaty pits around!

For more

Product.01 MySpace

For a man who seemed disinterested in playing the suave spy James Bond, Clive Owen has seemingly decided to fill his CV with knock-off government agents ever since.

Which brings us to The International, a film that manages to pit Owen against a group of evil bankers (Watch out! They’ve got pens on chains!).

Owen plays hardened Interpol agent Louis Salinger, on the trail of a top bank with Naomi Watts‘ Assistant DA. both uncovering their dodgy dealings which are funding global terrorism. The film’s timing is somewhat unfortunate given the current climate (might as well kick the banks while they’re down) but fails to get its nails dirty anyway.

While splendid architecture and a more than suitable group of actors do their best to spice up this thriller, it plods along at such a slow pace that it fails to get any adrenaline pumping whatsoever. Owen is a one-note lead while Watts flutters in and out reflecting the dry, routine performance of Owen making a truly stale situation.

The film is so sluggish that when the action does kick in (in the form of a shoot-out in the Guggenheim Museum) that it feels out of place with the rest of the proceedings – not to mention quite implausible. When a gang of thugs run in with Uzi’s tearing up the place, the film takes an all of a sudden turn to the peculiar.

The International has a string of good ideas - it’s an intelligent thriller in fantastic locations mixed with a decent cast. Unfortunately it seems to get sucked into a black hole along with any pace, wit or excitement. It tries to create a web of intrigue but becomes a meandering mess, which means that anything interesting that does happen gets bogged down with the rest of the bland proceedings.

It’ll come as a disappointment to anyone who’s been clambering for an intelligent thriller given the wave of brain-free blockbusters this year has already thrown up. The International packs neither the intellect nor the brawn. Owen and Watts can do better and the only real positives one can say of The International is that it’s slightly more enjoyable than an evening spent filling out your tax returns.

Extras:

A scene-specific commentary and a host of features on architecture give some fascinating insight into the motivation behind the film, but won’t have you clambering to revisit the movie. Also included is an extended scene with Owen and Watts further displaying their lacklustre chemistry.

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If Michael Jackson meets David Carradine in heaven - as unlikely as that’d be - he should expect a great big hug.

Why? Because thanks to Michael Jackson’s death, the world has forgotten about David Carradine and how he died in a Bangkok hotel cupboard wearing a lady’s wig, a set of fishnet stockings and a shoelace that was somehow tied and his neck and penis at the same time. So that’s good.

But David Carradine is back in the news again - a private pathologist has stated that he probably died of asphyxia. Funny, we had money on the cause being embarrassment.

You know David Carradine, the actor and apparent auto-erotic asphyxiation fetishist who appears to have died during a bout of auto-erotic asphyxiation gone horribly wrong? Yeah, turns out that asphyxia probably killed him. We know! We were shocked when we found out, too! We had his death down as either swine flu or a shark attack. Some experts we turned out to be.

However, it seems like asphyxia really was the cause of David Carradine’s death, because the private pathologist hired by the Carradine family said so, as AP reports:

The private pathologist who examined David Carradine’s body says Thai authorities have determined the actor died of asphyxia and so far, he agrees. Dr. Michael Baden says his examination of the “Kung Fu” star’s body and the details he’s received from Bangkok are consistent with an asphyxiation death. He conducted a second autopsy on Carradine’s body at the family’s request.

But hold on a second - don’t think that the mystery has closed just because a pathologist has stated the painfully obvious. Although he died of asphyxiation, nobody can say for sure whether David Carradine’s death was accidental and self-inflicted or, yes, if it was down to that rival kung-fu gang we’ve been hearing so much about lately.

True, the hotel’s CCTV doesn’t appear to show anyone entering or leaving David Carradine’s room in the hours before or after his death, but this is a rival kung-fu gang we’re talking about here. They could have somersaulted in through the window or burst through the ceiling armed with wigs, stockings and a shoelace long enough to tie around someone’s genitals and neck simultaneously or something. They’re the worst kind of rival kung-fu gangs - the ones with long shoelaces and an alarming sense of visual aesthetic.

Of course, in the coming weeks as toxicology and forensic test results are completed, we’ll all get a much clearer picture about the circumstances of David Carradine’s death and put all this grubby business behind us. When we said ‘a clearer picture’ just now, by the way, we weren’t talking about an actual physical picture of David Carradine’s death scene that we can all look at, because - you know - ugh. And stuff.

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Instead of a penis, Brad Pitt has a magic wand that brings fabulous wealth to anyone who he sticks it in.

It’s true. It is. OK, in all fairness it probably isn’t true. Chances are Brad Pitt does have a penis - but the bit about it making people rich is still true, though. Forbes has just published its list of Hollywood’s top-earning actresses, and the top two spots are taken up by Angelina Jolie and Jennifer Aniston.

We know what you’re thinking - where’s Juliette Lewis on the list? Look, not even Brad Pitt’s magic wand willy is that magic, OK?

If you need us at any point over the weekend, we’ll be at Brad Pitt’s house. You’ll be able to tell who we are - we’ll be dressed in a slinky frock like the one Bugs Bunny wears when he tries to woo Elmer Fudd, and we’ll be trotting up and down Brad’s driveway with half our bum hanging out and three packets of Rohypnol in our handbag.

Because, lord, look at the statistics. The last two people who Brad Pitt slept with were probably Angelina Jolie and Jennifer Aniston, and Angelina Jolie and Jennifer Aniston have just been named as the top two highest-earning actresses in Hollywood. So it’s definitely worth trying to have sex with Brad Pitt. True, we might end up being dealt a rubbish hand like Gwyneth Paltrow was and end up getting married to a whining gonk from a crap band, but that’s a chance we’d be prepared to take.

Because Brad Pitt must be the reason why Angelina Jolie and Jennifer Aniston have done so will in this Forbes list. He must be. Look at the films that Angelina Jolie and Jennifer Aniston have released in the last year - some cack about a dog, a gormless procession of slow motion explosions, a Ben Affleck film and an over-serious lot of piff that involved little more than wearing a hat and shrieking “Where’s my son?” seven hundred billion times in a row - you can’t seriously tell us that people liked any of those, can you?

But, hey, what do we know? Forbes reports:

Between June 2008 and June 2009, Jolie earned an estimated $27 million. Much of that came from her share of the profits on Wanted, but she also scored a fat upfront check for Salt. Coming in second behind Jolie is Jennifer Aniston. Aniston earned $25 million.

We should probably point out that there’s still a vast gender gulf when it comes to Hollywood earnings. Angelina Jolie might have earnt $27 million in the last year, but that’s nothing compared to the $65 million that Harrion Ford earnt in the same period of time. And he earnt it for Indiana Jones & The Kingdom Of The Crystal Skull. What sort of sick world is this?

But back to Angelina Jolie and Jennifer Aniston. What are they going to spend all their money on? Well, there’s a chance that Angelina Jolie will dedicate a portion of it to her various philanthropic works. And Jennifer Aniston? Well that army of winged monkeys won’t train itself to attack Angelina Jolie by smell alone by itself, will it?

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Typical hecklerspray, always three weeks behind the Zeitgeist.

Anyway, shut up because this time it’s totally worth it. Remember that time when Barack Obama killed a fly like some sort of ninja? Here’s the game version of that. In Obama Vs Fly, you play the fly. All you need to do is sit on Obama’s hand and wait. Then, just as he’s about to strike, you fly off and foil him. Obama Vs Fly is basically a reaction game - keep your reaction time lower than his reaction time and you’ll always win - but it’s preposterously compelling nonetheless.

Play Obama Vs Fly now

The saddest thing about Michael Jackson’s death wasn’t the messy custody vacuum it left for his kids.

No. And it wasn’t the way that it’s still pretty much impossible to find a radio station that doesn’t only play Michael Jackson records, although that is very sad. The saddest thing about Michael Jackson’s death is that nobody will see what he was planning for his big comeback shows.

But that ends now - we’ve got video footage of Michael Jackson’s last rehearsal right here, and if you like watching middle-aged men walking around a stage very slowly, you’re in for a treat.

Now that the main focus of Michael Jackson’s death is the gargantuan tangle that he left his personal affairs in, it’s a relief to finally be able to shift away an concentrate on something he was actually good at. No, not being sued or dressing up as a lady or being accused of wanton cruelty to giraffes, we’re talking something that Michael Jackson was really good at - performing.

This summer, close to a million people were set to watch Michael Jackson’s glorious comeback at London’s O2. Or, if you want to be realistic about it, probably about 200,000 people were set to watch Michael Jackson’s glorious comeback at London’s O2, with all the others getting refunds when Michael inevitably started cancelling entire swathes of shows for no clear reason. But none of that matters now - he’s dead, so nobody’s going to see anything now.

Except they might. Earlier this week we reported that Concert promoters AEG had taped one of Michael Jackson’s last rehearsals in HD, and was planning to sell it to fans in a heartbreaking Bullseye-style ‘here’s what you could have won’ moment that wasn’t at all about cynically cashing in.

But having read some of the accounts of Michael Jackson’s last few days, that didn’t sound entirely appealing - who’d pay to see a bald, anorexic drug addict with half a face wheeze and shuffle along to watered-down karaoke version of his best-loved songs?

Happily, though, AEG has released a 90-second video of Michael Jackson’s final rehearsal proving that Michael Jackson still had a bit of life left in his tank. Here it is…

Yes, there are a lot of fairly depressing things about the video - such as the fact that Michael Jackson’s most elaborate dance move in the sequence involved sort of marching up and down the stage with his friends, the fact that he’s miming throughout, the fact that Michael Jackson and his choreographers still appear to think that it’s 1986 and the fact that, despite his enviable back catalogue, Michael Jackson was still planning to do They Don’t Care About Us - but at least the final footage of him alive shows him doing something he excelled at, rather than being another gruesome reminder of how rubbish everything else about his life was.

But don’t worry, we’ll get back to that next week. Diana Ross, for crying out loud. What was he thinking?

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Hello, and welcome to another edition of Things About Vampires That Clearly Stomp All Over Twilight.

So far this week we’ve shown you a trailer for True Blood, which is what Twilight would be like if all the vampires weren’t such godawful namby-pambies, and now here’s the trailer for Blood: The Last Vampire, which is what Twilight would be like if all the vampires were kickass Asian schoolgirl kung-fu ninjas.

And if the phrase ‘kickass Asian schoolgirl kung-fu ninjas’ gets you as giddy as it does us, you really have to watch the Blood: The Last Vampire trailer after the jump. It’s epic…

And so the planet mourns the death of Michael Jackson. Singer, dancer, owner of monkey.

Expect to spend the next few long months being force fed compilations of his greatest moments, most of which will feature Thriller, Billie Jean, Man in The Mirror. His so-called greatest hits. Only, really, they’re not. Not by a million miles. We know that because we’ve listened to every single Michael Jackson record, at least one and a half times each, so we have a fairly advanced knowledge of his work.

So, ignore these “experts”, here are his real most wonderful moments…

1. Farewell My Summer Love

In a well-observed ode to trying to get off with someone, Michael sings about a girl who visited her nan, and ended up getting casually chatted up by Jackson in a local shop. The song catches the precise moment that the girl hurriedly leaves the grocery store, repeatedly looking over her shoulder, wondering what the strange boy by the lolly counter was attempting to propose in that spooky childlike voice.

2. Stranger In Moscow

Anyone who has ever visited Russia will know exactly what Jacko is on about here. Standing alone in the middle of a square in Moscow, being watched by the KGB, two and a half empty bottles of strong vodka turning you a bit paranoid. “How does it feel?” asks Michael, knowing full well that the answer is obvious. It feels weird, Michael. Really weird. And quite cold.

3. What More Can I Give?

If we had to chose one genre of music to take to a desert island, it would be CHARITY music. There’s just so much of it. Do They Know It’s Christmas, the one by McFly, and then this - Michael Jackson’s third best ever record. It features the sexy Hanson sisters, and it features the classic Jackson whispered chorus. He’s urging us to give quids to tramps.

4. Gone Too Soon

“Like a comet blazing across the evening sky, gone too soon,” sings Michael, obviously not aware of the sheer terror caused by the sight of a blazing comet hurtling through the sky. A more accurate use of the metaphor would be to say “like a comet blazing across the evening sky, you completely terrify me.” He proceeds to similarly lament the disappearance of rainbows and the sun.

5. Ben

A love song written for a mouse. Jackson celebrates that he will never be alone again, and that he and Ben have finally found one another. Both of them were looking for someone, and it’s all worked out really well. Except that Ben’s a mouse. A mouse. A mouse that probably doesn’t really know what’s going on, and perhaps wasn’t looking for friendship with a person. And yet, there he sits at the family table, politely making small talk with the rest of the Jacksons. “How long have you guys been dating?” growls Joe. Ben start sweating.

If you want more of this actual genius, you should head over to Josh Burt’s excellent website Interestment. You won’t be let down.

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Remember that rumour that Hilary Duff was going to star in 90210? What a ridiculous rumour that was.

Because, please. This is Hilary Duff we’re talking about. Multi-millionaire singer and actress Hilary Duff. She’d never lower herself enough to appear on an embarrassingly self-conscious youth-orientated CW TV show like 90210. That’s absurd.

But luckily, Hilary Duff would lower herself enough to appear on an embarrassingly self-conscious youth-orientated CW TV show like Gossip Girl. So she has. It’s great news for anyone who watches Gossip Girl and actively identifies themselves as a Hilary Duff fan. So that one creepy man must be thrilled.

Have you heard the news? Gossip Girl is where it’s at lately. No, really, it is. It is. Chace Crawford was named as Summer’s Hottest Bachelor by People magazine recently, and he’s in Gossip Girl. And Kelly Rutherford got pregnant last year, and she’s in Gossip Girl. And, um, Michael Jackson died last week and, er, people gossiped about him and he had quite a girlish figure, and OH ALRIGHT, Gossip Girl isn’t where it’s at in the slightest. Gossip Girl’s a slightly rubbishy TV show that we’ll never properly invest in because life is obviously too short.

But all that’s about to change, because very soon Gossip Girl is going to become a slightly rubbishy TV show that we’ll never properly invest in because life is obviously too short that Hilary Duff will briefly appear in. It’s incredible news!

Oh, come on. Hilary Duff. You know who she is. She’s Disney’s discarded Miley Cyrus prototype. You remember. Fights with elderly screen legends a lot. Hilary Duff. Oh, you remember.

No? Well, look, she’s going to be on Gossip Girl soon and that’s that. EW reports:

The actress-designer-pop chanteuse will play Olivia Burke, a movie star who enrolls at NYU in search of a traditional college experience. She ends up rooming with Vanessa (Jessica Szohr) so it’s safe to say she’ll be majoring in Drama! Duff will debut in this season’s fourth episode, slated to air Oct. 5.

We’re genuinely thrilled about Hilary Duff joining the cast of Gossip Girl - it’s literally the holy grail of people we don’t really care about deciding to star in TV shows that we’ve never even watched a single episode of. Well, not literally the holy grail - technically that’d involve Radio One DJ Jo Whiley agreeing to do a multi-episode arc on the FX TV show Sons Of Anarchy - but it’s close enough.

And Hilary Duff shouldn’t worry that recently turned down a spot on 90210 because she’d rather have her own show, only to discover that her own show wasn’t good enough to be picked up by NBC, thereby forcing her to return to 90210’s network with her tail between her legs to accept a spot on a TV show that couldn’t be any more similar to 90210 if it employed Tori Spelling out of a sense of pity. There’s nothing embarrassing about that at all. Ahem.

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The Jonas Brothers are so adorable, aren’t they? Which one is your favourite? Nick or Joe? Oh, we can’t decide either!

What? Kevin Jonas? There’s a Kevin Jonas? You mean that weird-looking guy who usually stands behind the other two is a Jonas Brother as well? Wow. We just assumed that he was their manager or their dad or a particularly persistent beggar or something.

Anyway, Kevin Jonas has just got engaged. No date has been set, although hopefully it won’t happen until Kevin Jonas has finished On Chesil Beach and properly developed his desperately profound fear of physical intimacy.

Kevin Jonas deserves your sympathy for two main reasons. Firstly he’s the oldest member of a teen-targeted pop band made up of brothers. He’s Isaac Hanson. And being Isaac Hanson is no fun, especially because you’ll inevitably end up riddled with lung-scabs.

Worse still, Kevin Jonas is the oldest member of a teen-targeted pop band made up of brothers who are globally known for their hardcore no sex before marriage stance. That stance might be fine for Nick Jonas and Joe Jonas, because they’re only 16 and 19 years old respectively, but Kevin Jonas turns 22 in four months. The poor boy can’t go anywhere without being confronted by crowds of lusty-eyed fans, and there’s nothing he can do about it. This is just a stab in the dark, but we’d imagine that Kevin Jonas’ testicles are constantly like giant twitching watermelons.

But, credit where it’s due, Kevin Jonas has decided to do something about it. He’s getting married.

Who to? Well, as a Jonas Brother Kevin Jonas has the entire world of women at his command. Look at his brothers - one of them might be involved with Miley Cyrus and the other one’s going out with the monobrowed bikini girl from 10,000 BC (the key word there is ‘bikini’ rather than ‘monobrowed’, obviously) - so which A-list stunner has Kevin Jonas landed himself? Well, her name is Danielle Deleasa and um, she sort of used to be a hairdresser once. Does that count? People reports:

Deleasa couldn’t believe what was happening. Then, “She said yes, yes, yes like 500 times super fast in a row,” the oldest of the Jonas Brothers tells PEOPLE… “It was tough performing last night, knowing that I was going to ask the biggest question in my life to the most amazing girl in the world,” he says.

Oh, that’s… that’s actually quite sweet. What a spoilsport. Couldn’t he have at least thrown in a “Finally, I’ll get to see what a naked woman looks like!” or a “You know what? I can’t wait to take this purity ring and set the cocking thing on fire. Do you know how many women I could have shagged if it weren’t for this piece of crap on my finger? Millions. I literally could have shagged millions of girls. And now, just because curiosity got the better of me, I’m stuck with this one for the rest of my life. Thanks a lot purity ring, you massive arse”?

No? For us? No? You bloody spoilsport.

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It’s just weeks until London’s premier festival, Lovebox, takes centre stage and to celebrate we’ve got three pairs of weekend tickets up for grabs!

Why is this a good thing? Because a) the likes of Duran Duran, Doves, Groove Armada, VV Brown, The New York Dolls, Gang Of Four, Bombay Bicycle Club, Florence And The Machine and N*E*R*D are playing and b) we want to give you tickets to see all of them, for free.

If you can get to London’s Victoria Park on the 18th and 19th July and like winning brilliant competition prizes, then you’re strongly advised to read on…

To win a pair of these staggeringly good Lovebox tickets, all you need to do is watch the video of Lovebox headliners Duran Duran below and answer a simple question:

QUESTION: Is Simon Le Bon’s hair too big?

To stand a chance of winning, email your answer to Hello[at]hecklerspray.com with the subject line ‘Yes, it’s obviously far too big‘. The competition closes at midnight on July 9 when three winners will be chosen at random. UK readers only please.

For more information on the festival go to: www.lovebox.net/home Tickets are available from www.lovebox.net as well as from Ticketmaster or by calling 08448472436.

Tickets can be purchased in person from Stargreen Box Office, 20/21a Argyll Street, London, W1F 7TT.

Ticket prices: £42.50 + Booking Fee per day ticket. £75.00 + Booking Fee per weekend ticket.

Michael Jackson’s kids must be going through a horrific time at the moment - their dad has just died, after all.

Worse still, it looks like they’re going to be at the centre of a confusing, emotionally-exhausting custody battle. But maybe, just maybe, help is at hand. And it comes in the shining, mad-eyed, massively unsuitable form of Diana Ross.

That’s right. Michael Jackson stated in his will that if his mother is unable to look after his kids, then Diana Ross - his co-star in The Wiz - should. And if she can’t, then the giant plasticine rabbit from Moonwalker should. Probably.

Right, this is probably going to take some explaining. Michael Jackson is dead, this much we know. And, aside from massive debt and a robot version of his own head, Michael Jackson also left behind three young children. And that’s where things start to get confusing.

Because Michael Jackson almost certainly wasn’t the biological father of the children. And the woman who everyone thought was the biological mother of the children - the one who traded all form of parental access for cash three years ago - might not be the mother after all. And that’s why Michael Jackson has decided that the only person who could ever properly raise his kids is his mother Katherine - who you may remember as the woman who sold Michael Jackson’s childhood for a quick buck 40 years ago, ultimately setting him on the path that led to his death.

The problem with this is that Katherine Jackson is a 79-year-old women, and it doesn’t seem very practical for her to care for Michael Jackson’s kids. Not because the children will be freaked out by the prospect of living with a frail, gnarled old lady - because, come on, look at who their dad was - but because it’d obviously be quite exhausting for her. So, like the all-knowing figure of universal love that he was, Michael Jackson concocted a plan-B while writing his will.

That plan? Fobbing the kids off to Diana Ross. Seriously. AFP reports:

“I have intentionally omitted to provide my former wife, Deborah Jean Rowe Jackson,” Jackson stated in the will, which was dated July 7, 2002. “If any of my children are minors at the time of my death, I nominate my mother, Katherine Jackson as guardian … If Katherine Jackson fails to survive me, or is unable or unwilling to act as guardian, I nominate Diana Ross as guardian.”

Diana Ross. Diana Ross. How’s that going to make Debbie Rowe feel, for crying out loud? She can’t look after the children but Diana Ross - the notoriously cranky and apparently balding pensioner who was once arrested for allegedly fondling a security guard’s breasts at an airport and has spent time in rehab this decade dealing with her drug and alcohol problems - can? Talk about a kick in the teeth.

We feel for Michael Jackson’s kids, we really do. Imagine how they’ll feel, sitting down day after day to listen to another one of Auntie Diana’s interminable stories about what Gene Simmons‘ penis looks like. And they won’t even be able to go outside for a kickabout because Diana Ross is crap at that as well.

Still, it could be worse. It’s clear that Michael Jackson wanted his kids to be cared for by a star from one of his films, so those kids should probably be breathing a sigh of relief that they’re not currently on a minibus heading towards Joe Pesci’s house. That’s something, right?

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Another week, another set of Big Brother eviction nominations. Ho hum.

Incidentally, does anyone else think that we’re due some fresh blood in the Big Brother house? We’re 29 days into the show already, and the most exciting thing to have happened was when Noirin drew on her own face. This is easily the dullest Big Brother on record, and the best way to liven it up would be to introduce a new housemate. Or a flesh-eating virus. Actually, let’s go with the virus.

Tomorrow will see the Big Brother eviction of either Sree or Halfwit. Let’s take a closer look…

Halfwit - We’ll say one thing for the Big Brother housemates this year. They may not agree on everything. They may not be able to do anything without coming off like a band of clueless dickfaces. In the case of Rodrigo they may not be able to speak out loud ever. But they are determined to get Halfwit out. This is the fourth consecutive week that Halfwit has been nominated for eviction, and it’s probably going to be his fourth consecutive survival. And it’s suddenly become quite enthralling to watch. It’s hard to tell what’s going to break first - the housemates’ gross inability to realise that Halfwit is quite popular with the public, or Halfwit’s psyche. Let’s make this as clear as we absolutely can - we want Halfwit to stay in the Big Brother house. Because that way he’ll be nominated again next week. And then again the week after. And then again the week after that. And then he’ll snap, stab someone in the throat with a pair of kitchen scissors and get lugged off to an institute for the criminally insane for the rest of his life. And isn’t that exactly what Big Brother has been missing all these years?

Sree - It’s a surprise to see that Sree has been nominated for eviction this week. But that’s only because, in a just and fair world, Sree would have been evicted from Big Brother long, long ago. Each year there’s always a housemate who behaves so awfully thanks to their absolute lack of social skills that they end up getting prematurely bullied out of the house. This year that should have been Sree. His treatment of Noirin has bordered on full-on stalking, he’s had inexplicable blow-up after inexplicable blow-up at several of the other housemates and, worst of all, he died his hair orange. Literally orange. What kind of idiot would willingly dye their hair orange, for crying out loud? An untrustworthy idiot, that’s who. Still, there’s no point getting into this too much - Sree is up against Invincible Halfwit and so his eviction is all but guaranteed tomorrow. Tenner says he cries.

Next week - the whole sorry cycle, all over again.

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Emma Watson could totally be richer than the Queen - but she would have no idea, as it’s been a hot minute since she counted out all the coppers in her extra-large piggy bank.

The Harry Potter actress was recently allowed access to her fortune and so we would advise her to get the floors of her home reinforced at this point. A net worth of around £10 million, when all saved in coppers, has got to weigh as much as a small elephant.

The 19-year-old star spoke to Elle magazine about how she had no idea that she was stinking rich. In much the same way that Hank Baskett pretended he was not marrying Kendra Wilkinson in the yard where she and Hugh Hefner had played find the ping pong ball this past weekend, Emma says that she calculates her net worth by multiplying her number of Twitter friends by iPod catalogue size, like most tweens.

This is the same naivete that meant Amy Winehouse did not know she had her body-weight in smack hidden in her beehive. Or the same willingness to forget about immense fame that leads Prince Harry to be photographed in women’s underwear/ sparkly nail polish.

Horrid things usually happen when celebrities forget they are rich and famous. However, the worst thing likely to happen in this case, is Emma forgetting she has a wad of £50 notes in her pocket and asking you to sub her a burger, when you go to Maccy Ds.

“My dad never told me how much money I was earning,” the actress told the August issue of Elle magazine. “Then, when I hit 18, he was like, ‘I want you to understand that your money isn’t some kind of abstract concept. I want you to have a feel for what it’s worth and what you can do with it.’”

Sure, this prolly happens to other celebrities too. Britney Spears‘ parents didn’t tell her she had enough money in the bank to buy a decent weave. And Paris Hilton’s parents didn’t tell her that she had the power to stop the spread of VD, by just pulling up her pants. Secrets are terrible things, as is pretending you’re not mega wealthy.

“The truth is I’d just like to pretend that it [the money] doesn’t exist. It’s amazing how many children are aware from such a young age about money being important or supposedly impressive. Around the age of 13 or 14, kids used to come up to me and say, ‘You the girl on Harry Potter? How much do you make?’”

Emma’s fortune and floorboards are safe for now. She is probably better off pretending and not indulging the butt-kissing sycophants who ask her daily about her net worth. Should they need it, Heckler have a very, very safe cupboard under the stairs in which we can hide Emma’s £10 million, Amy’s crack and Paris’ STD meds. There… all safe.

This was a guest blog by Amy Grindhouse, who is so far beyond excellent that there isn’t even a word for it.

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