Hecklerspray are a bunch of merry people who would never inflict any harm on you.

We’d do anything to help you out. Say you thought some Russian military types had tampered with your food; we’d be there to help you. Sure, we’d be putting our own life at risk as we gingerly slurped your tomato soup, but we love you and would never turn down your request.

However, there are some factors that we can’t control: famine, Bono, global warming and hay fever (oh dear God the hay fever). At first the problem is confined to one area, but it then slowly spreads around the world. Look at Bono – Ireland suffered for so long until he was unleashed to the world.

Now it’s England’s turn to unleash one of their ropiest creations, this time on an unsuspecting America. Lily Allen has been granted a visa. Batten down the hatches, quick!

Lily’s cheeky chirpy cockney songs have never been off radio and TV stations in England. Most of the time it’s a lucky dip to see if Smile or LDN is going to be played next. It wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t every ten minutes or so.

But then, would the public like to hear a makeshift hecklerspray band doing a freestyle jam on a few metal cans and coat hangers? No, probably not.

In-between writing and recording her second album, Lily has been doing other stuff as well. You see, she’s not like the other one dimensional singers without a soul or conscience. She can do more than pout and attempt to look sexy – Lily can present too! Well, that’s what BBC 3 believes anyway.

Some genius came up with the Lily Allen and Friends show. A programme where a few celebrity people come on to plug a TV show or product they’re involved with.

In-between all of the ker-azy chat comes the part of the show that makes up about 89% of the content, the always reliable feature: “clips from the internet showcasing wacky people which means I can sit on my arse and do fuck all for a bit,” used every week. Honestly, we’d never seen the Chocolate Rain man before. We are so thankful. The show really is worth the license fee alone to watch TV content which comes from YouTube.

For some time now, Lily’s wild child antics have seen her banned from America. Having the odd drink doesn’t seem to be a popular thing with Uncle Sam and her persistent drunken nights out haven’t helped. For a long time she’s been banned from the land of obesity and Maury. Now Magazine reports:

“Lily had to have her pee regularly checked and then blood tests on top to prove she wasn’t on drugs before the US government would give her a working visa.”

We just feel sorry for the poor sod that had to check her piss. How this was done we aren’t sure, but we’re willing to bet it was all down to the texture and aroma of the urine. But that doesn’t matter now; she’s got the visa, and she was reported as feeling:

“Chuffed.”

Though we would like to remind US visa officials of her odd antics at last week’s Glamour awards. She clearly wasn’t sticking to tap water or lemonade during the ceremony and looked slightly worse for wear. This will probably scare the shit out of the people who gave her legal permission to visit America.

Have fun with her in the USA. And don’t feel inclined to send her back anytime soon.

New BBC 3 show Lily Allen And Friends is in trouble. And not just due to the rubbish title – although surely a more accurate name would be Lily Allen And A Bunch Of Z-List Hangers-On Who'll Vanish As Soon As Her Fame Begins To Dwindle, Therefore Leaving Her With Nothing Better To Do Than Record An Embarrassing Christmas 2009 Novelty Record With Her Father.

The idea seemed like a rating winner at first. Get one of the most high profile pop stars of the moment to front an inane and unchallenging chatfest with some equally dim celebrity mates.

Then? Then came the studio recording, and the point at which things didn't so much go downhill as start tunnelling to the centre of the Earth like that weird drill-vehicle from The Core. And – after disappointing the live audience so much that a good percentage of them walked out – Lily has now seen this failure to engage reflected in the broadcast arena.

Only two percent of the potential audience tuned in to see Lily wheel out her cockernee accent and prance around before the cameras on Tuesday night, and it's not known how many of them actually enjoyed the sight of something approximating a Primrose Hill primary school child auditioning for Oliver.

Of course, the obvious reason for such a disaster would be that people thought the show would be roughly as entertaining as snorting ground-up fibreglass. But let's give the Lilster a chance – maybe that wasn't the only factor for the failure. It's entirely possible that the BBC 3 audience – confronted with something that wasn't an episode of Two Pints Of Lager And A Packet Of Crisps – found themselves so bewildered that they had to immediately turn over before their skulls exploded.

Besides – broadcasting this on a Tuesday? Like, duh. Are you totally unaware of Lily Allen's target demographic? Don't you know it's their weekly How To Pretend To Be 'Street' When You're Actually A Privately-Educated Twat class over in Highgate? You really should come along next time – Tarquin's really developed that Brixton twang, and Isabel's new dreadlocks are just totally awesome.  

Whatever the reason, the BBC has put on a brave face on this whole fiasco and called it a 'solid start'. Nevertheless, one can't really help but feel that poor old Lily won't be getting a second series. Man oh man – she must be really worried about her future in the industry. After all, it's not as though she has a famous television personality father and film producer mother with which to continually leech undeserved exposure and opportunities off, is it?

Oh.

Read More:

Allen's TV Show Flops - Yahoo

“I don't know what's sicker, animals having sex or you clapping.”

Only Lily Allen and her friends at the BBC could command such an exclamation from Cuba Gooding Jr. Her tasteless attempt at a new chat show can be best described as Heat magazine crossbred with a little Graham Norton-esque audience participation. It was actually painful to sit through Allen’s new vehicle, paper-cut painful.

The interaction with her audience seemed to be nothing more than a passing sentiment. A number of awkward exchanges with the Romford-fashion crowd ensued. Those lucky enough to have been picked out were rewarded with a place at the TFI Friday-style bar to be seldom seen again. The purpose of the bar escapes us, though it probably escapes the producers beyond its function as a holding pen for the banal.

Lily’s first guest was David Mitchell, who was forced to sit in a half tea cup/half bed hybrid. The questions posed were on the most part inane, with Mitchell’s witty and deadpan responses only serving to illustrate the gargantuan gap between their respective levels of talent.

Like Parkinson, Wogan, and other great interviewers before her, Allen has her own distinct style. Where the former two opted for well-researched, probing questions, Allen instead decided on ‘Newsround press-pack reporter’ style. Allen’s attempt at endearing herself to the viewer by giggling intermittently throughout the guests’ replies like a 10-year-old on TV for the first time failed to be anything more than irritating.

Lily Allen & Friends is one of a number of desperate bids from TV makers to win back the teenager from the internet, mobile phones, and gaming. It establishes a TV 2.0 designed to get the viewer involved in the content of the programme, much like Web 2.0 did for internet sites. In this respect it could well be a trendsetter, though it draws heavily from the bleak and almost forgotten world of public access television.

One of the few saving graces of such a format was the independence and anti-establishment rhetoric which made it a bit radical. However Lily Allen & Friends feels too forced, and with an idea which was inspired by MySpace (News International), implemented by the BBC and a production company responsible for gems such as The Wright Stuff and Date My Mom, it is anything but anarchic.

With more gimmicks and novelties than content, we need no more proof that Allen should stick to her music career, and TV execs should stop whoring themselves to regain a lost market.

[story by Keith Emmerson]