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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Poor famous people. They get plebs saying nasty things to them, which is of course, completely different to the lives of us normal troglodytes who spend an eternity being thoroughly pleasant to each other, without cross words ever uttered.

One such sad case is Kylie who has had to call the police because someone wrote some nasty words on twitter.

No, honestly.

Kylie (real name Jason Donovan) took to twitter (aka The confession booth for the rich and famous) to tell all her followers about the abuse she had suffered, calling her stalker a “weirdo” and adding that she had alerted the police about their  tweets.

Kylie – who irritatingly calls all of her fans ‘lovers’ after she’d noticed Lady GaGa had come up with a specific nickname for all her fans – posted on her official page:

“I love 1,033,861 of you LOVERS, but 1 is not a lover, just a deluded weirdo making threats #andthatdoesnotmakeyouspecial So…police alerted.”

In fairness to the mental one, calling the police on them DOES make them special. If they weren’t getting special treatment, you’d be phoning the police about all your fans, right Kylie?

Naturally, Minogue’s Lovers were mobilised enough to then retweet her message in some kind of pointless support, with one writing:

“I hope whoever’s threatening @kylieminogue knows there’s more than 1,000,000 of us ready to jump to her defence.”

WHAT WILL THEY DO? Set up a nasty Tumblr?! Seethe through a hashtag? Stomp around their living rooms for a bit shouting at the ether? Listen to ‘Spinning Around’ REALLY LOUDLY?

Honestly. If Kylie had an army, it would be under 5ft tall and all sickly and thin, reeking of poppers and microwavable pizzas.

Lana Del Rey has had her whole adult life and creative outlets bankrolled by her insanely wealthy father and, at various points nearly gave it all up because she had to actually work a little to get anywhere. However, thickos on the internet came to the rescue and made her an overnight sensation!

Things were all going to (a carefully executed by a PR company) plan as she readied her new album! She was going to become a superstar! The golden goose had actually delivered!

The key cog would be a performance on Saturday Night Live! Lana would sing, everyone would swoon and rush out to buy her album, learn all the hackneyed lyrics and eagerly await the tour announcement. She opened her mouth to her largest audience yet and… oh dear… she ended up sounding like a cow in labour. The plan was ruined.

And so, the tour which Del Rey was supposed to do has been postponed, thanks to everyone finding out she can’t sing at all.

Her dreadful, near lifeless performance on SNL is squarely being blamed.

Next month, the Video Games singer was supposed to kick off a 30-date tour across America, but alas, thanks to revealing to all that she croons like a whale with it’s dick in a vice, she’s thought it best to call the whole thing off and book some singing lessons, stat.

A source tells the New York Post gossip column Page Six:

“(Lana) and her manager decided to cancel (the tour) after SNL. She was very upset. They figure it allows time for her to clear her head, then go back to selling tickets. More importantly, they figure the extra time gives them more distance from SNL.”

Of course, THAT SNL PERFORMANCE has already been sent-up by Kristen Wiig (see it here) which, well, almost sticks-up for the tuneless, preening Del Rey, but either way, what happens now is that the singer will now go away, work on her vocals and come-to-bed-eyes while her management rethinks the live shows and the entire trajectory of her impossibly orchestrated career.

God, this’ll be tedious.

Well all know that Kim Kardashian is the very pinnacle of media whoredom, leapfrogging other visionaries as Paris Hilton, Tulisa Contostavlos and the rest of the Kardashian sisters, to the crown of Most Annoying Slag 2012. And we all know why, because she wants to show everything that happens through the medium of television, even though her television shows are so tucked and trimmed that if they were pies, they would be the most disgusting tasting pies ever. Though they would look great.

But what happens when TV turns against her? We’ve seen public opinion of the Kardashian Klan flip recently with claims of her marriage being a sham; even her soon to be ex-husband is throwing some fuel onto the hair extension, Sketchers-advertising fire, with news reaching us that he wants to show the divorce trial ON TV.

In a move that will take the Kardashian/Humphries debacle into a whole new universe of meta-awareness, we’ll be watching them divorce live on TV! Which is very Matrix isn’t it?

You have to wonder which pill Kim took, just so we know which one not to take. It’s at times like this that we’d rather be in a pod, having our very essence drained from us, than know that somewhere Kim Kardashian is swanning around thinking she’s Queen Poop or something.

Kris Humphries and his lawyer, Lee Hutton, are wanting to “expose the M.O. of reality TV” by showing that K. Kardashian had as much intention of staying married to him than we do of using anything that the Kardashian Kartel advertise. Humphries is also claiming that Kim only wanted big ratings for her show. Which anyone could have told him. Helen Keller could have told him that.

According to TMZ, who would NEVER lie or speculate wildly, Kim has filed for divorce on the grounds of ‘irreconcilable differences’ which probably means he didn’t want to sit and brush her hair a hundred times each night, whereas he wants the marriage to be annulled on grounds of ‘fraud.’ Which is a bit scary isn’t it?

Just like every other Kardashian news, Kris Jenner has stuck her beaky beak in with some objections. She thinks that the publicity that Humphries has gained has made him a much more pleasing opportunity when it comes to marketing himself, even though having anything to do with that family will leave a 666 tattooed on your scalp, and that they drew up and long and complicated pre-nuptial agreement that Jenner is saying that Kim wouldn’t have bothered doing if she was only intending to stay married for a matter of days. Even though it was probably Jenner who drew up the agreement in the first place.

To be honest, seeing anyone wipe the self serving smile off any one of the Kardashian’s faces is A-OK with us. They’re very awful.

Karl Lagerfeld has the feminists and fat chicks bunching their panties in disgust over his latest outburst.

Remember. This is an outburst from an old man who works in the fashion industry.

We don’t know what magic mirror Lagerfeld is looking into, but despite looking like an anorexic-shell-less-tortoise/panda hybrid, Lagerfeld takes it upon himself to be the aesthetic judge of the universe. And this time, he’s decided to pass judgement on Adele. You can see where this is going can’t you?

However, we can’t help but think he has a point here: speaking of rotund songbird Adele , the spindly one said:

“She is a little too fat, but she has a beautiful face and a divine voice.”

Right. And this is news to who? Lagerfeld might as well have stated that bears like to defecate in woods, or that Lindsay Lohan probably won’t be around to pick up her pension.

Considering his previous pearls of wisdom have included his theory on ugly men being the largest cause of Russian lesbianism, how no-one loves a fat chick and that all Greek have filthy habits, Adele got off pretty lightly. He didn’t even recycle a Yo Mumma joke or that one about fat chicks being like vespas.

Extra credit: Phil or Karl? Which quote is from loveable rogue Prince Phillip, and which is pure Karl.

1. Nobody wants Greece to disappear, but they have really disgusting habits. Italy as well.
2. People in magazines are 50% bimbo and 50% pregnant women.
3. What are you doing here? Well, you didn’t have to come.
4. My thing is to work more than the others to show them how useless they are
5. (Talking about Beijing) Ghastly
6. Bugger the table plan, give me my dinner!
7. I’m rather pro-prostitution
8. Cats kill far more birds than men. Why don’t you have a slogan: ‘Kill a cat and save a bird?
9. I have no human feelings
10. (Talking about Stoke-On-Trent) Ghastly

Answers on reverse of page

Do you hate everything yet? Do you wake up angry, in cold sweats thinking “this is all just terrible. We have one chance at a viable, enjoyable life and yet the culture we digest is diluted, spoon-fed nonsense with people who are inexplicably famous, we should be worth far more than this” and then carve “4REAL” into your arm?

No? Well, here’s some news.

The Only Way is Essex (sigh) star (double sigh) Mark Wright is going to be included in an artform enjoyed by Kirk Douglas and Robert DeNiro as the boyfriend of Kelly Brook’s character in a film with Danny Dyer and oh don’t you just want to shoot people now?

We can only hazard guesses, but it’s probably safe to say that this news is about as welcome to the world of cinema as ZZ Top at a Leukaemia convention. Remember actors? They would act in things, and people who weren’t actors didn’t?

Mark Wright was quoted as saying literally nothing of value about the film, in which he stars with hard man – if hard man constitutes as someone who looks like too much of a bed-wetter to do PR for Coldplay (and UFO enthusiast) – Danny Dyer, who has a fantastic record in cinema, doesn’t he?

Christ.

“Insiders” have mentioned that Wright is trying to drop his Essex accent to have a crack at Hollywood, which shouldn’t even be worth saying, really, because “speaking differently” and “playing a character who isn’t you” is called “acting”. “Speech marks”.

Wright’s publicist, or “Talky Word Man”, said:

“He loves The Business and Football Factory, so it’s a dream for him to work with Danny and Tamar. Add Kelly into the mix, he’s made up.”

Maybe this is proof that you can achieve anything if you’re a moron.

Women! When you’ve stopped complaining about the negative, overtly sexual images of women in media, which breed an unrealistic body-ideal in young girls, we’d like to point you in the direction of David Beckham in his underpants.

See, ol’ GoldenNads has done a photoshoot for some undercrackers he’s flogging through dreary clothing bazaar, H&M.

A number of women have stopped worrying about the patriarchy long enough to admire Beckham’s bulge and sigh with feint arousal everytime they see it. So what does David have to say about it? Well, it doesn’t involve stuffing but it does involve his daughter.

While womenfolk rail against the appearance of naked girls in print, they simultaneously objectify men like there ain’t a thing to it. The gays of the world objectify everything because they’re brilliant at it and make no apology about it.

For straighty woman though, there’s this confusion over whether or not its okay to lust after a half-naked human. The selling of female flesh by the pound is bad, but musing on whether Becks’ stuffs his package is completely fine.

And on that score, Beckham has proudly proclaimed that he has never stuffed his pants to make his manhood look bigger.

Referring to comedian James Corden – who parodied him in a shoot, who admitted to stuffing socks in the underwear – David said:

“I’ve never, ever done a James and padded out my pants, or shoved socks down there though. I’ve never had to for any of the photoshoots I’ve done because, hopefully, I don’t need to. Well, let’s just say I’ve been told I don’t need any help in that department. I think I’m pretty OK!”

Of course, there’ll be women dribbling down their blouses at the thought of a massive schlong hiding behind those briefs. However, if you have half a brain, you’ll note that, in Beckham’s shots, his gruds appear to be filled with 90% balls. Does that mean Beckham has a genital region that looks like a jug spout grafted onto a hot-air balloon?

Either way, ol’ Davey B wasn’t finished talking about underwear. He’s quite the raconteur you know?

“Victoria loves me in long johns. I like wearing the normal, short briefs but she reckons she likes me better wearing the long johns! She makes me wear them around the house. But that’s OK because they’re comfortable and keep you warm.”

Frost/Nixon, eat your heart out.

And still he wasn’t finished! No, he wanted to talk about the fact that his daughter should be thoroughly ashamed of the naked human body. Talking about how he used to walk around his house naked, he said:

“My naked days are over. I definitely walk around the house in my underwear. But not naked. With the boys it’s not a problem because they’re naked all the time but with a little girl now, it is different.”

There you go. Instill that little girl with a sense of shame from the off Dave! Go you! Still, at least she’ll grow up thinking that the human body is something to be hidden, unless you’re displaying your ballbag to the world in a series of lucrative advertisements, eh?

Harry Potter star, Harry Potter (or, Daniel Radcliffe as his mum refers to him when she’s shouting abuse up the stairs) is a wimp of the highest order. Why? Because wickle Dan Dan can’t handle his ale.

And he’s proud to admit it.

Apparently, Radcliffe had a drink problem. The problem was that, every single stinkin’ time he drank some lovely booze, he’d ‘black out’. Get that! He didn’t pass out a few times. He blacked out so frequently it became ‘his thing’. What a wimp. He probably passes out after eating those horrible chocolates with liqueurs inside them.

When asked if he had ‘fun drunken nights out’ before giving up alcohol in August 2010, Radcliffe said:

“Yeah, but I can’t remember them. Seriously, in the last three years of drinking I blacked out nearly every time. Blacking out was my thing.”

This reeks of someone wanting to paste an edge onto themselves doesn’t it? When lacking in personality, get yourself a problem. It’s definitely a thing – just look at half of twitter pretending to be socially awkward.

And Radcliffe’s problems didn’t end there. He was so concerned with his behaviour when he’d been having a nice glug that he became ‘a recluse at 20’, drinking alone at home like a sad old soak.

‘The drinking was unhealthy and damaging to my body and my social life. That’s beyond question… I was living in constant fear of who I’d meet, what I might have said to them, what I might have done with them, so I’d stay in my apartment for days and drink alone.”

“I was a recluse at 20. It was pathetic – it wasn’t me. I’m a fun, polite person and it turned me into a rude bore. For a long time people were saying to me, “We think you have a problem,” but in the end I had to come to the realisation myself.”

And so, what did Daniel do? He talked to Gary Oldman of course!

“I did talk to him about it once. I didn’t say I had a problem -–because I didn’t think I did at that point – but I told him I shared that mentality he had for actively seeking out chaos.”

“He just said, “You can’t keep doing this. You’ve got too much to lose”. And that really went in. But not even he could have stopped me alone – I had to stop myself.”

“And stopping has shown me a world of happiness that I didn’t think was possible.”

Gah. Sounds like someone’s about to find religion, doesn’t it? Still, America will love this chat, mainly because they’ve got a gigantic problem with those who take a little refreshment on a night out.

Meanwhile, Europe raises a glass like a massive tough guy.

People of the World, spice up your life, as Madhur Jaffrey advised us. And now, ladies, spicing up your life is even easier, because singer/author/actress/thin Geri Halliwell has finally done what everyone presumed she would have done years ago and released a range of clothes inspired by the iconic Union Jack dress she popped out of during the ’98 Brit Awards.

Peddling her wares through Next, she is hoping to capitalise on a bumper year for angry British men, uniting British pride through the Olympics (where the Union Jack will be more common than people complaining about traffic and foreigners), raising the profile of the Spice Girls, who will allegedly appear at the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee (groan) and the upcoming race for the best beachwear on the High Street.

Sounds dreadful doesn’t it?

Geri even admitted how conniving she’s been by creating a range centred on one of the most iconic British images of the past 50 years.

“I think this dress has definitely become iconic and I’m proud to say that – and equally it celebrated Britain and I can’t think of a better time to celebrate Britain. We’ve got the Olympic Games, we’ve got the Diamond Jubilee – we have a lot to feel good about. And I think really wearing something with a Union Jack on really is showing how proud we are to be British. I think it’s time we fly the flag with real pride, so I’m very excited.”

Remember, just before Bob Peck was ripped apart by velociraptors in Jurassic Park, and he said “clever girl”? He wasn’t talking about his impending doom, he was talking about Geri Halliwell.

There’s five separate designs available, incorporating an awful looking bikini, an alright looking maxi dress and an updated, not slaggy looking version of the dress she wore at the Brit Awards, with a nifty cowl neck and sequins added.

God that was a little bit Vogue wasn’t it?

In reparation for that, have these instead: poo, bum, wee, willy, front fanny and something to make your Friday start with a, what’s less than a bang? A rhythm?