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.

How are your ears? Like having them? They’re great for holding your glasses up aren’t they? Pierced them? How nice. Alas, there’s one drawback with ears – you can hear stuff. Yep, all manner of useless dreck can creep in their and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Unless you stuff the canal with liquid concrete and then lop them off with cigar clippers.

And you may want to do exactly that because the most appalling news has come our way – Paris Hilton is making a pop comeback and she’s teaming up with zany-irony gobblers and ear-wormers, LMFAO. If you don’t know what that means, let us draw out the horror.

You may not know this, but Paris Hilton actually had a record out a while ago. She released an album in 2006 and, of course, it was lousier than a thousand Ed Sheerans.

And so, in a bid to buy herself a number one, she’s decided that she will hire the second most irritating music producers on the planet (the first being 3OH!3 who look exactly like the kind of lads who would wag their tongues and shout ‘BREWSKI!’ while spitroasting a drunk girl on some grotty amateur video).

She told MTV News:

“We’re going to be doing my new single with LMFAO… I’ve known them since I was a little girl. We grew up together ’cause our parents are friends, so I’m just so proud of them and all their success and what they’ve done ’cause they’ve just created this whole Party Rock brand and it’s just so awesome.”

You want to hear some of that ‘Party Rock brand’ don’t you?

And so, listening to that, you’re probably thinking that it’s pretty derivative, blurt-pop as influenced by Timbaland at his worst, as much as it’s influenced by terrible squelch-house, right?

Well, if you can put a name on it, you’ll be helping out Paris who insists her new album will be very different from her debut:

“I’m going with a whole new genre.”

So basically, it better sound a million miles away from this or we’ll think you’re full of it. Which you are. However, this threat comes with a ‘…and if we aren’t satisfied with the results, we’ll come and skin your chihuahuas’. Okay? No pressure.

It’s always nice when a grotesquely wealthy person goes to visit poor people. It gives them an ideal opportunity to perfect their worried, moved facial expressions. We’ve seen it with Angelina Jolie as she globetrots to the scrubbers.

And now, Paris Hilton is taking time out of her busy holidaying schedule to go and cry at some orphans in Bali.

That’s nice of her isn’t it? She was probably wearing make-up which cost more than all the orphans had ever possessed in their short, miserable lives. Still, CHARITY!

The heiress and celebutante took time off  from people trying to arrest her for mistaking wraps of cocaine for chewing gum to stand motionlessly, holding back obviously real tears, in two of Indonesias orphanages.

Of course, being the expert grief-tourist, Paris posted a photo of herself with the kids on her twitter page and revealed the visit had been a wonderful experience.

Get that? Wonderful. It was wonderful watching children grinning briefly thanks to their wonder at seeing a orange skinned, peroxide blonde tottering around their normally grim home. They were afforded the opportunity to forget about how they ended up in such a desperate situation, unaware that Paris only usually roughs it with poor people when mocking them in her Simple Life show.

Hilton wrote:

“Had a great day spending time with the orphans from 2 of the orphanages in #Bali. Such sweet, beautiful children. Loved seeing them smile … The orphans in #Bali are so adorable. Loved being with them today … A pic from today w/ the orphans in #Bali. They are such sweet children. Love them!”

She then posted a link to non-profit organisation Yayasan Kasih Peduli Anak, which we’ve also done, so stop whining about our mocking of Hilton and her obvious attempts at alleviating her own guilt of having such an unfairly large amount of money to fritter away on clothes for her many tiny, coal-eyed dogs.

She tweeted, on a phone or tablet which will have cost her more than the orphans can even imagine:

“The orphans of #Bali need your help. Make a difference. Change a child’s life. Please donate”

Still, at least Paris Hilton felt good about her utterly vapid life. She signed-off with a flourish, saying:

“Bali completely changed my outlook on life. Feel so #blessed. See the world differently.”

Now, she’s only going to buy organic Class A drugs.

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Remember Daphne and Celeste? They were cool weren’t they? They went to the Reading festival and out-punked the punks. They did the right thing and quit after their brief success.

Someone else who remembers Daphne and Celeste is Madonna.

How so? Well, her new single, which has been leaked online like an open pus-sore, sounds just like ‘em! Or, if you prefer, it sounds like something Fergie from the Black Eyed Peas would put out and subsequently be ashamed of. Wanna hear it?

Madge hasn’t been having a great time of it of late. First of all, it transpired that she hated you and your stupid floral gifts. Then, some dry-heave inducing nude pictures leaked online.

Now, topping those two woeful incidents, she’s putting out a really, really terrible single.

It’s clear that Madonna doesn’t know how to keep up in the world of pop anymore as she’s being outfoxed by GaGa, out dirtied by Rihanna and out cutesied by everyone else.

As such, she is seemingly going for the Crazy Frog approach and creating a track which is irritatingly ear-wormy and something of a novelty single.

She even feels the need to say her own name in the song, over and over, because she’s worried we’ve all forgotten about her.

Have a listen.

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Tis the season for leaked nude photographs and, sadly, this time around, it’s a hard-bodied Madonna who we’re getting to gawp at, who, at the time of press, is roughly the same age as the horizon.

That’s right! She’s been having a photoshoot and some wag has leaked some snaps of her before anyone can airbrush.

And yes, she’s topless. So no, they’re totally NSFW. They’re not even SFE (‘safe for Earth’).

Anyway, Madonna appears in these photos with her gym-honed limbs, all sinewy and veiny like four particularly large penises.

And there’s the stomach. Boy what a gut! It looks like you could bounce coins from it.  Alas, the skin doth sag over it like a soil bedsheet over a mattress made from concrete.

Her wig is a thing of beauty too.

Feel free to say “Well, I think she looks great for her age!” or “When you’ve achieved what she’s achieved, then you can criticise!” because, as we all know, no-one is allowed an opinion on anything unless some arbitrary rules have been put in place beforehand, like wealth or influence.

Or in Madonna’s case, the existence of ‘Into The Groove’.

In fairness, it is an absolutely perfect record… but still, that won’t stop us from sneering. IT’S ALL WE’VE GOT! Now look at her naked. Again.

GODDAMMIT.

*****UPDATE*****

If you’re looking for dodgy Madonna n00dz, then sorry. We had to take them down because SOMEONE threatened us with legal action. The place we originally saw them may have them. They’re EB&D so visit them. If not, we’re pretty sure you’ll be able to find them somewhere on Google Images with the Safe Search switched off.

And so. By way of apology for not being able to find what you’re looking for, here’s something else to gawp at.

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She might hate hydrangeas, but she sure loves people throwing stupidly shaped balls around! That’s right folks! Madonna is totally going to be the halftime distraction at the next Super Bowl, or Super Bowl XLVI if you can’t count in English.

The Material Girl (we’re forced to use that description by law) will clutter up the pitch with a giant stage on February 5th in Indianapolis, which of course, is famous for a stupid car race, being almost square shaped and having virtually zero sidewalks. Stupid Indianapolis.

But at least they’ll get a massive American Football match and Madonna, eh?

Of course, this could all fall through as Madge has been rumoured to perform in two Super Bowls before (1998 and 2000) but she clearly couldn’t be bothered.

If it does go through, she’ll be joining a number of megastars who have performed on the Super Bowl pitch such as The Rolling Stones, Paul McCartney, Bruce Springsteen and Janet Jackson’s nipple.

Last year, Americans witnessed the Black Eyed Peas prancing around in what was arguably the worst Super Bowl halftime ever.

EVER.

Naturally, Madonna will want to raise some eyebrows during her performances, so we suspect that she’ll take to the stage on a flaming crucifix while dry-humping a black Jesus, climaxing with the effigy of Lady GaGa getting stabbed by a hoard of gay men in PVC nappies.

That would actually be brilliant and don’t you dare pretend otherwise.

The football organization is keeping mum, with NFL spokesdude Greg Aiello (too many vowels in that surname) saying:

“We do not comment on the musical talent for the Super Bowl until we have something to announce”

Amazing words.

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Today would have been Amy Winehouse’s 28th birthday, but as you know, she passed away and joined that grotty bedsit in the sky known as the 27 Club.

Before she parted, she recorded a duet with Tony Bennett (ten times the singer Frank Sinatra could ever be, thanks to being able to sing 20 notes, rather than Blue Eyes grand total of two), which proved to be her final recording.

Now, on her birthday, the record has been released and you can have a listen to it over the jump. It’s actually very, very good (which is rubbish for us who would like nothing more than to be nasty about it).

The duet, Body and Soul, will see its profits going toward the Amy Winehouse Foundation which of course, was set up by Amy’s father Mitch.

That also launches today, and aims to help other people struggling with addiction and, naturally, Amy had her troubles with that.

Mitch is adamant that his daughter was clean at the time of her death though.

He said:

“Through her own determination, she stopped taking drugs three years ago. I’d been speaking about that for the last three. No one would listen to me. They thought she was still taking drugs. She was clean for three years. But clearly the drugs did take their toll.”

Gah. There’s not many opportunities for jokes here is there? Let us just listen to the song and swim in its loveliness.

Perhaps notice Tony Bennett’s creosoted skin too.

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Madonna. Stupid, canny, very bright Madonna. You can throw what you like at her, but like a wily old street fighter, she ducks and weaves before whupping your ass with a bike chain while your back is turned.

The swine.

See, after the hydrangea debacle, we all flung handfuls of faeces at her and hooted our traps off about how she was a spiteful, ungrateful git. And so, Madonna went and made video to answer everyone’s criticisms.

If you missed it, Madonna hit the headlines after a fan gave her some flowers which she hated. Sadly for her, she was caught on video rolling her eyes at the whole thing.

Now, Queen Madge has responded to that video with one of her own entitled “Madonna’s love letter to hydrangeas”.

Of course, this being Madonna, she’s more than self-aware and self-effacing about it all (she’s arguably the most self-aware human on the planet) so the video isn’t so much a grovelling apology…

…in fact, it isn’t sorry at all.

Just watch it, okay?

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Madonna is so far removed from society, that even small gifts from us plebs make her angry. Gestures are just not enough, as we’re supposed to know exactly what she likes or else we’ll incur her stupid, pointless wrath.

We saw this yesterday on these pages as she turned her aged nose up at a lovely flower, brought to her by some bloke in a suit.

And so, this got us thinking. What flower would we give to Madonna if we were unlucky enough to meet her? Opinions were sought around the ‘spray hovel, and some very interesting answers emerged.

There’s a huge number of plants and flowers out there which we could try and impress Madonna with.

Alas, we’d be most likely to give her some that scorch her skin and poison her.

That would invariably end in a prison sentence, we figured we’d offend her in other ways.

And so, here’s our list of disgusting plants we’d give to stupid, ungrateful Madge who, quite frankly, doesn’t deserve our time or effort.

But we do like ‘Into The Groove’.

(Not enough to stop us from being peevish and send her vile plants though)

Hydnora africana

This horrible looking thing is a parasitic flower that kills everything surrounding it. Better than all that though, is that this unusual plant emits the smell of faeces. AND IT LOOKS LIKE A GIANT MINGE.

Dracunculus vulgaris

The Dracunculus vulgaris smells like rotting human flesh, which is nice. Madonna would love that no doubt, as it reminds her of the humans she feasts on in her futile bid to stay young. Also, IT LOOKS LIKE IT HAS A BIG, BLACK DONG.

Monkey cups

Aw! Monkey cups! Cups that monkeys drink from, right? Wrong. Also known as the Pitcher Plant, this thing can eat rats. Seriously. A meat eating plant. Little Shop Of Horrors, come true to life. It also looks like a really exotic toilet.

Vegetable sheep (Raoulia eximia)

This stupid thing looks like a sheep grazing on rocks from a distance. They’re thoroughly ugly and will die in the care of Madonna, leaving her with the feeling of having killed a poor innocent lamb.

Rafflesia arnoldii

Look! Look at this horrible thing! Madonna would love to be given one of these. Why? Because it smells like a dying mammal and looks like it has acne.

Amorphophallus

Look at this horror. The name means, literally, “shapeless male genetalia”, which Madonna could use to remind herself of her former beau, Guy Richie.

Birthwort (Aristolochia gigantea)

Hey! It’s the Giant Birthwort or Dutchman’s Pipe. It’s a plant covered in hair and was given its name thanks to looking at bit like afterbirth.

Welwitschia

It looks like a diseased dragon’s tongue, is covered in wasps, hugely poisonous and is around 2000 years old. Madonna would have a lot to identify with.

Elephant’s Trunk (Pachypodium namaquanum)

Look at this stupid, ugly thing. It looks like Fido Dido got sucked up by an elephant. Madge would love one of these thrown at her by an adoring fan.

Next week: We fend off green fingered idiots for getting fundamental things wrong about all these plants no doubt.

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When us mere mortals make some kind of gesture to an incredibly wealthy celebrity, we expect our meagre offerings to be useless to them, but at least met with some vague gratefulness, right?

What on Earth could you offer someone who has probably already bought everything in the world? Including actual humans from Africa.

And so, when someone tried to do something nice for Madonna, instead of simply being pleased that someone wanted to put a smile on that horribly wizened face of hers, she threw it all back at us like a spoiled git.

While Madge was promoting her awful film and expecting us plebs to fork out our money on watching it in some wretched cinema, someone gave her a flower.

Isn’t that nice? Giving flowers to people is lovely isn’t it?

However, Madonna hates the general public and was caught out on the microphone – which you’d assume she’d know the workings of, what with her being a professional singer for roughly 800 years – saying that she ‘loathed’ a flower bouquet given to her.

In unedited footage from her Venice Film Festival press conference, we see Madonna handed a gigantic purple hydrangea.

She cracks a smile so fake that a politician would spit their tea through their nose with laughter, before grimacing and muttering:

“I absolutely loathe hydrangeas.”

We would’ve preferred the whole ‘Oh thank-you! How thoughtful!’ but y’know, this is Madonna. She hates us. She hates us all.

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Madonna. She made a lot of great pop records. A LOT. She’s a successful business woman (when she’s not setting up failed gyms in Mexico) and owns a record label that launched another bunch of stars.

However, one thing she never got right was the movies.

Not that this has stopped her from releasing a new film called W.E. (it’s about Wallis Simpson and blah blah blah) and everyone is expecting a brown trout of a feature. Why does she bother? Let us peer at her terrible movie past.

Of course, Madge will make more money and hangers-on than we’ll ever have, but that’s not to say we can’t see a turd in the bowl when we stumble across one.

And boy howdy, Madonna has been responsible for some howlingly awful flicks in her time.

Does she care? Clearly not. Do her fans? Invariably, they’ll spend their time scouring the internet looking for naysayers to shoot down with a ‘YEAH! WHAT HAVE YOU EVER DONE? SHE GIVES TO CHARITY YOU KNOW?!’

Anyway, here’s a showreel of Madonna showing that she shoulda stuck to singing.

Swept Away

Look! Terrible acting! She’s got the poise and grace of a daddy long legs!

Shanghai Surprise

One of the worst films ever made, period.

A Certain Sacrifice

The only real sacrifice here, is dignity.

Blue In The Face

Something we’ve all felt when shouting ‘stop acting’ at the TV when Madonna treads the boards.

Body Of Evidence (Not Exactly Safe For Work)

Crikey. If you thought Basic Instinct was wooden, this takes the biscuit. And half of Basic Instinct’s plot.

Truth Or Dare

Amazingly, this fly-on-the-waller shows Madonna’s acting at its worst. Listen to her hammed up New Yoik accent.

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It’s not easy to be nasty professionally. For a start, people automatically assume that you have no heart and that if you do, it’s a blackened, flaking husk that makes people unable to spend time in the same room as you. Admittedly for the most part, that’s true. Sometimes, you also have to poke fun at something that you wouldn’t usually consider an acceptable target.

However, here at hecklerspray we don’t “hate on” people unnecessarily (unless they’re a celebrity) and, to that end, we don’t want our readers to think that this article is going out of its way to disrespect its elders. hecklerspray writers are regularly in contact with the elder members of our community and, once we’ve stolen their wallets and purses, we sometimes give them their bus passes back.

Not always though. We wouldn’t want people to think we’re soft.

Older people in themselves aren’t the problem here and we wouldn’t be so lazy as to spend hundreds of words having sly digs at pensioners for not being able to use a computer as we’re blatantly aware that most of them are better at it than us. Our very own Lauren Mullineaux performs most of her computer-based tasks by hacking wildly at the mouse until something happens and even our editor Mof Gimmers spends a good portion of his day smashing his face off his keyboard in a desperate effort to make words appear on the site.

Of course, the elderly are pretty great. They lived in the eras that your nostalgic love of vintage clothing is rooted. They’ve seen things than we can only imagine by looking them up on Youtube and sometimes they need a bit of help. It’s not our responsibility to outline the problems facing British pensioners, we write funny articles and to outline actual tales of strife or poverty on it would be irresponsible and ill-advised. We don’t seek to poke fun at the impoverished or ill in this world.

Okay?

Good. What we do seek to do however is sigh indignantly at this awful pile of utter claptrap from Age UK’s advertising people which seems to be entitled ‘Thank You’.

Of course it shouldn’t be called thank you, should it? It should be titled “Who The Hell Do You Think You Are Getting Us To Do This Degrading Crap?”. The people in this advert seem as though they’ve gone off their own backs to make a lovely message to all the people who have donated to the campaign but- as with most adverts- it’s composed almost entirely of odious stereotypes and ‘bawdy’ humour.

It’s designed with the sole intention of making you think “Aw, look at those ol’ cards out there having a good time.” Incorrect and you know it. The first time you saw the advert you stared in dumbfounded silence at these old men and women allowing their good nature to be sent up.

Admittedly, it’s quite nice to see a light-hearted advert for a charity. There are so many awful things happening in the world right now that it’s a brave step not to show a 40 second black and white advert of a frail old lady hunched and dying alone in front of The Wright Stuff. However, there are better ways to do it than playing up to clichés and making these poor old bastards look like idiots on national television.

Stereotypes?! We hear you cry. Well, yes. Here’s a Top of the Pops-style list in chronological order.

• “Yer granny cannie sing.” – It’s a well-established fact among advertisers that old ladies can’t sing or, if they can, they’re usurped by a gravel-faced crone before they can belt out a note.
• “Some old ladies are a bit saucy.” – Yes, you’ve seen Calendar Girls and you probably got a little bit excited. Believe it or not, old people have sexual urges just like you and advertisers love playing up to it. It’s only a matter of time until a sexual element is introduced to Werthers’ Or- [LAZY PAEDOPHILIA JOKE REMOVED IN SELF-EDITING].
• “An arhythmic black gentleman” – Well… no, that’s actually not a stereotype at all. It is quite unusual to see a black person portrayed in advertising as something other than gyrating like James Brown with haemorrhoids. Although he is dressed as a janitor. We’re not saying that was deliberate.
• “Belly dancing!” – You’re retired and there’s nothing better to do than go to classes in a traditional Middle Eastern dance, is there? Well, that’s what ‘creatives’ think.
• “Go to Egypt!” - Oh. Well. That’s actually a bit culturally insensitive, isn’t it? But that’s okay though because in advertising, elderly people are culturally insensitive! So “walking like an Egyptian” while wearing a Fez and carrying a giant representation of the power symbol of an ancient and noble culture is totally fine. Old people, eh? Insensitive bastards.
• “Hula girls!” - Actually, no. This is getting a bit weird now. Apart from the dancing going on in the background and the shop-mobility dodgems, everything’s getting a bit odd. There’s a grinning man in his seventies juggling on a unicycle. Is that a thing?

Of course, it loses it there and everything goes off into tangental weirdness because the people who have been hired to produce the advert seem to have precious little knowledge of pensioners. We’re not suggesting for a minute that pensioners aren’t ‘wacky’ but the entire minute long film has a sneering air of being penned on a whiteboard by a preening public school turd called Tarquin who has only ever seen one pensioner and they were in a box at a Wake.

The same goes for Wonga’s new advert which sneers at pensioners by portraying them all as ‘street’ talking puppets. Still, at least it’s better than some of their previous offerings. Unlike the money-grabbing loansmen, at least Age UK is a cause worthy of people’s attention even if they’ve chosen to market themselves in a really stupid way.

There are so many calls to move away from the traditional standards of advertising, especially when you’re focussing on one group of people. Nothing ever changes in the advertising world, as we hope reading Badvertising will prove. Things that are seen as fresh and imaginative usually aren’t. You’ll have seen the same clichés and bastardisations of themes trotted out time and time again. People think that their ‘markets’ are too stupid to realise.

You’re not.

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Madonna is a maniac. She is. You knew that right? She’s gone on a rampage in Malawi and destroyed a school building just because she isn’t as successful or credible as she used to be. It’s an awful, awful state of affairs.

Other schools in impoverished African countries have been put on high-alert as officials worry that Madge could be hellbent on causing catastrophic havoc throughout the fine continent.

With her cold, lifeless eyes and her sinewy, gym-pumped and rage-fed muscles, Madonna took the school down in much the same way as Guile beats cars up in the special level on Street Fighter 2. What will stop her? The death of Lady GaGa?

Oh wait. What?

Oh.

It appears we have the wrong end of the stick. This appears to be a tale of admin, which is way less interesting.

Basically, the 3000 year old megastar planned to build a school for impoverished girls in Malawi, but alas, it has failed after the board of directors of the charity, Raising Malawi, were taken over by a caretaker board.

That’s right! A CARETAKER BOARD!

Madonna has, regrettably, stumped up $3.8 million for the project. She could have spent that money on really cool stuff like a robot cat that fires missiles shaped like Guy Ritchie from its anus. Alas, she’s spent it on an imaginary school.

Plans to build the $15 million school for about 400 girls have now been abandoned.

According to The New York Times, Michael Berg, a co-director of the Kabbalah Centre and the co-founder of Raising Malawi, said:

“A thoughtful decision has been made to discontinue plans for the Raising Malawi Academy for Girls, as it was originally conceived”

The Borderline singer said:

“‘There’s a real education crisis in Malawi. Sixty-seven per cent of girls don’t go to secondary school, and this is simply unacceptable. Our team is going to work hard to address this in every way we can.”

And then she went and smashed up a school in America because they can afford it, before dropping her trousers, taking an astonishingly lengthy piss into a bowler hat, which she then threw over a passing police officer.

That might be a lie.

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Let’s get one thing straight right here and now. Comic Relief this year raised £74 million for charity, a large proportion of that money given by ordinary people like you, and that fit girl who works at Costa, and the oaf who sits opposite you at work that reeks of Lynx Africa and once gave you a conspiritorial wink as he came out of the toilets, rearranging his scrotum, with a satisfied grin on his face and FHM’s High Street Honies pull-out tucked under his arm.

We even had a degrading rummage in the nest we’ve made from shredded pictures of Lee Ryan in the corner of the hecklerspray bedsit and came up with a few coins that were unpleasantly sticky, but we donated them anyway. And we’re monsters.

So people will have given their cash because they were entertained by Red Nose Day, or because they felt guilty, or because they are aroused by beans, baths and bake sales; they will have given whatever the hell we think of the televisual event itself, and that is obviously a good thing. And just because we slag off, say, Karl Pilkington for thinking that a sly glance at the camera and Ricky Gervais barking like a blown seal in the background means that every word that falls from his face is worthy of worshipping like he’s some post-modern deity, that doesn’t mean we also want to kick an African child in the face.

In conclusion – charity: great. Saving the lives of children globally: go on then. Red Nose Day: 90% shithouse. Are we clear?

Nowadays, by the time Red Nose Day finally arrives, it’s after so many weeks of harrowing “Comic Relief” programming where the terrible suffering of the world is reflected in Samantha Janus’s tears, even seven hours of a close-up of a drop of sweat making its way down James Corden’s belly would seem absolutely hilarious in comparison. And so as not to disappoint, we did get an eyeful of the Smug Sphere of Smithy, in an evening of sketches, craptastic presenting and musical interludes that ranged through minor triumphs, massive indifference and painful humiliation.

It all started with much vim and vigour, as these things often do, with Claudia “Blinky” Winkleman and Michael “Squinty” McIntyre bounding about and introducing banal fayre like Andy Murray getting annoyed by the now frighteningly giant middle class children from Outnumbered, and a strangely racy Doctor Who short with a plot revolving around Amy Pond upskirt action. (To any readers joining us after Googling that particular phrase – welcome, and apologies for not meeting your needs, you dirty fiends.) Harry Hill does Autumnwatch was a highlight, ressurecting Bernie Clifton and killing him with a boyband in the space of a minute, and giving Ronnie Corbett a little tickle under the chin. But then, Harry Hill is pretty untouchable. He could probably get away with a sketch starting “Well, I like Colonel Gadaffi, but then I like the rebel forces in Benghazi…” and we’d all think it was a bit of wacky fun.

As the night wore on, there was more comedy, and unfortunately, more “comedy”. The definite winner of the night was Alan Partridge, whose recent renaissance has been an utter joy to behold. It’s not even worth trying to do it justice with a summary here; suffice to say, not for nothing were 75% of all Facebook status updates immediately after transmission “You’ve got flecks on your wimple”.

However, the big money was on the “Smithy Rescues Comic Relief” sketch, with, yes, James bloody Corden, driving around West London with a matching tracksuit-wearing, sulky, scene-stealing George Michael. George Michael! That one! Making Snappy Snaps jokes! Not weird enough for you? OK, try chucking in JLS, Davina, Dermot, Rupert Grint, Richard Madeley, Keira Knightley, Lord Coe, that diving half-naked boy champion, Rio Ferdinand, Trigger off of Only Fools, Paul McCartney, and Ringo Starr, all appearing to wryly chuckle at their own massive, blinding star power. By the time Gordon Brown turned up looking and talking like a heavily-edited YouTube mash-up of himself, accompanied by Justin Bieber on keys, it was clear that we’d been the victim of a hallucinatory dirty bomb fired from Venus, and our alien overlords should be here to brutally subjugate us with a matter of days.

As for the “comedy”, it was a toss-up between Miranda arsing about in Pineapple Dance Studios with the omnipresent JLS and Jennifer Saunders’ bog-standard I’ve-been-doing-this-since-1989-and-have-no-intention-of-writing-any-new-jokes Downtown Abbey parody for who would take the prize of “Best time to nip out for some more beer.” They were tedious; we moved on. Graham Norton turned up to snog Davina with grim inevitability, and fail completely at the sudden gear changes required to link from the excitement of Blue Wear Wigs to the tragedy of Blind Kids Dying. While Davina passionately emoted next to him, all he could do was wear the expression of a slightly annoyed man listening to a restaurant manager explain why his carpaccio was underseasoned.

Meanwhile, we had time for a few lovely little songs. George Michael undid all his earlier good work by covering a classic New Order track in the style of David Lynch having a slow-motion asthma attack into an accordian. Take That turned into Kraftwerks’ younger brothers’ schoolfriends’ dogs’ cousins who had once listened to Fischerspooner, and managed to rip off the music from a Zelda game. Adele managed to devalue both her stupid “oh no my boyfriend doesn’t love me any more I am so gritty and sad” swan-honking and the plight of dying Africans by slapping one all over footage of the other. And Annie Lennox’s Universal Child just sounded like Elton John having a musical hump over international plug adaptors.

But the best, by which we obviously mean worst, came towards the very end. Peter Kay made a right good stab at being the evening’s Top Bastard by proving that even if it’d save the lives of 1,000 starving orphans, he can’t be bothered to actually come up with any new ideas – wheeling out Geraldine, his fake X Factor winner who was already five years out of date when he unveiled her two years ago, to sing “I Know Him So Well” with Susan Boyle in a big wig and unfurl a picture of Trevor McDonald at the end in the homeopathic equivalent of a punchline. Moronic beanpole Fearne Cotton almost tipped it by accusing the hoardes of weirdos who crashed a website to look at her bony, bescribbled, swimsuit-clad body of being “perverts” and launching the sulk of the century when asked to don it again, for charity, lest we forget; the irony of the fact that googling her name comes up with acres of her naked flesh willingly flashed for gentlemen’s periodicals lost on her, possibly because she wouldn’t know the meaning of any word in that last sentence.

None of that, however, beats the dreadful sight of a ragtag bunch of celebrities attempting to sing Never Forget onstage at 2am, mumbling through the verses, bellowing the chorus, Lenny Henry slumped in the corner, like the end of some soul-destroying office trip to the karaoke. Never Forget, they sang. Never Forget that you’ve wasted a whole Friday night on this when you could have been on YouPorn having a crywank. Never Forget that really, no matter what any of us do, no matter how much money we give, the world is still a terrible place, so it’ll be back next year, and the next year, and it’ll get bigger and bigger, until the whole schedule is either David Walliams hilariously pretending to be gay even though he’s married to a supermodel (do you get it? He’s not gay! But he pretends to be gay! Do you get it? Do you?!) or David Tennant getting under the feet of stoic doctors and bawling like a tosspot.

And Red Nose Day will never again be as anarchic and hilarious as this gem from 1995, found by @profanityswan. Never Forget. hecklerspray can’t. We suffer these things for you. And do we get any charity VTs or a sniff of the profits? Course not.

Oh well – at least crywanking’s free.

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It’s difficult to imagine, but the life of Beth Ditto – who, because we’re such hideously clever dicks at hecklerspray, we will hereafter refer to as Beth Beth – is not just one long procession of standing in the way of Kate Moss, ripping all her clothes off whenever a glance is thrown in her direction, and sitting atop winged horses, helmet-horns glinting in the furious fires of Valhalla, scattering mortals with the power of her demonic screams.

Sometimes she finds room in that busy schedule for kicking back, relaxing, chucking on her neon-pink skintight onesie leisurewear, curling up with a classic of gothic literature, and squeezing her brain tightly until opinions form like diamonds in a bleak mountainside.

And even better, she then tells us about it! She really is the honking gift that just keeps honking, and won’t stop till our ears actually start bleeding!

So, if you’re ready, let’s all sit down to GCSE English with Beth Beth and the NME:

The Gossip front woman – who shot to fame in 2006 thanks to the success of the band’s breakthrough record, Standing in The Way of Control – says that Oscar Wilde’s novel The Picture of Dorian Gray changed her perspective on vanity.

Look at us, Beth Beth. Look at us. We’re literally on the edge of our seats here. There is nothing you could say now that would disappoint. We can’t help but feel we’re on the verge of a major re-examination of Wilde’s only novel, reflected off the lipstick-scrawled, chipped mirror of Riot Grrl politics.

Enlighten us!

“I’d never really thought about the motives of doing things for other people,” she told NME magazine. “You don’t really realise it but you do things to make yourself feel better, not the other person. It’s like a kind of vanity. It really changed the way I thought of charity.”

WHAT?!

OK, let’s all just calm down a moment and take all that in. You can say many things about hecklerspray. You can say we’re mean, we’re snarky, or we’re uneducated screw-ups who haven’t even read The Picture Of Dorian Grey but are pretty sure it’s something about the duality of the human soul and the ultimate destruction of a life lived in guilt-free hedonism, or whatever. You can even say we’re unnaturally obsessed with celebrities making boneheaded and obvious comments in an attempt to make themselves look intelligent and well-read when they should just stick to their natural areas of expertise; for example, squawking like a dying swan while in the background someone has a convulsive fit in the vague direction of a drumkit. But let it not be said that we will not stand up and roundly applaud instances of fierce, original thinking.

And let it not be said that we’re applauding now, cos we’re not.

If you want more pearls of wisdom from the boundless intellect of Beth Beth, you need not wait much longer, as she will soon be releasing an autobiography which, she promises from the bottom of her hard-working heart, will contain “things that seriously shock the crap out of everyone – things that’s going to make people forget about me eating squirrels. Totally eclipse it.” Look forward to the bit about when she got to the end of the Very Hungry Caterpillar and it really made her change the way she thought about how caterpillars turned into butterflies, because you don’t realise it, but caterpillars actually do turn into butterflies. Wow!

Next week on GCSE English With The Stars, Dappy from N-Dubz explains how the sexual politics of Taming Of The Shrew inspires all his lyrics, because he once saw 10 Things I Hate About You and got a boner while watching Julia Stiles. Join us then.

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