By now the haze of Christmas parties is bound to have worn off and you’ll be sitting there with nothing to show from the festive period but a photocopy of your genitals and an unplanned pregnancy; you’re probably looking back on the month or so preceding this and thinking, “Where did it all go wrong?”

That’s simple. You’re one of these people who gets so excited about the concept of Christmas that you vomit all over your facebook with excitement the first time you see that terrible Coca Cola advert.

SO YOU’VE PROBABLY ALREADY GUESSED THAT I’M GOING TO RUB IT IN YOUR FACE WHILE YOU RUB YOURSELF AND WONDER IF YOU MIGHT HAVE CRABS.

After all, that’s what Christmas is all about.

Let’s talk turkey (aha!), the Coca Cola advert is an unmitigated disaster zone of hackneyed ideas and 50s’-style ‘buy this, it’s good for what ails ye’ advertising. The fact that so many people see it as a sign of the festive period beginning is enough to make any sensible person run out into the street with a bolt-gun to start euthanising children before their parents manage to indoctrinate them into believing that advertising has anything to do with the start of the Christmas period.

Of course, I wouldn’t do that as I’m far too afraid of the brutal honesty of children to ever go near them whether I’m armed or otherwise.

Regardless of that fact, the Coke advert signifies the beginning of Christmas to many people who like to pour onto social networks proclaiming, “OMGCOKEADVERTITZTOTALLYCHRIMBOYAAAAAALOLMAO.”

The obvious question is ‘What has Coke ever done for Christmas?’. That is, aside from inventing Santa Claus in his current form and covering up your relatives’ alcohol problem on Christmas day. Coca Cola isn’t a particularly festive drink and therefore they’ve taken to disguising it with picture-postcard, Werthers Original style visuals and a song that is, I’m afraid to say, worse than Cliff Richard’s Millenium Prayer.

Coca Cola doesn’t bring the joy of the season and the idea of millions of people suddenly rushing to put their trees up when the Coke advert comes on fills me with a sense of dread usually reserved for a nuclear holocaust and a new Michelle MacManus album. Have you ever actually seen a Coca Cola truck like that? Are they like TV License Detector vans? There’s only one and it spends its life on a thankless PR dirge around the country?

Yes, Coca Cola invented Santa Claus, the red suited jolly version at least and we’re supposed to be infinitely grateful to them for allowing us to use him in our children’s folklore. Of course we should be! Thank you Coca Cola! Given the size of the company, they could easily charge you royalties every time you put out a mince pie and a glass of sherry on Christmas eve.

But wait. If we are to assume that the ‘accepted’ version of Santa Claus as the big, jolly red-coated gent that we see today comes directly from the marketing bods at the Coca Cola Company* then we might as well be telling the children of the world that their presents will be delivered by Ronald McDonald or those dickheads from the Pepsi adverts. Christmas owes nothing to Coca Cola and the mere suggestion that it ‘marks the beginning’ of festivities is often made by the same people that complain when there’s Hallowe’en costumes in supermarkets in mid-September.

Still, if you are one of the bleating sheep that rely on Coca Cola to tell you when you can start being nice to people then think of it this way: when you’re a kid, you believe that Santa Claus is real and maybe you believe that he’s directly responsible for delivering Coke. Then you grow up and you find out Santa isn’t real and you actually have to go out and buy gifts for the people you love. Maybe you want to cling on to part of that Christmas magic and the first sight of the Coca Cola trucks gives you that sense of wonder and joy that you’ve been lacking since you hit puberty.

It’s a nice thought isn’t it? It still means you’re being manipulated into feeling an emotion by an advertising company though. Maybe that’s what Christmas is all about after all.

Still, Merry Christmas an’ all that.

*In fact the depiction of Santa Claus in his ‘current form’ predates the advertising of Coca Cola but given that Father Christmas is essentially a series of lies to build the hopes of children and amuse the dull lives of adults (much as Hecklerspray do), we thought we’d keep the lie going. You’re welcome. Merry Christmas.

Over the last few years, stories regarding Michael Jackson have all focused on one specific issue. That’s right, his demise from this world and descent into a tacky gold coffin that’s buried deep underground so nutjob fans can’t rub their genitals across it.

More recent events have led to the climax of Jackson’s life where the whole world got to hear what drugs were given to him via ‘Sexy’ Dr. Conrad Murray. Ever since the incident on the set of a Pepsi commercial where the former king of pop’s head resembled a stinky sparkler, Michael supposedly downed pills like Smarties.

We’d like to distance ourselves from the recent courtroom drama featuring the only decent member of The Jackson Five. Instead, we want to relive some of the more memorable moments from his lifetime when he was alive, full of life and generally not being beaten by Poppa Joe.

Now, we’ll get this out of the way now – towards the end of his adult life, there were a couple of incidents that everyone associated with Jacko. As a dedicated animal lover, he didn’t settle at having a budgie or a dog. Instead, Bubbles the monkey was his pet. Granted, there was always the risk of the creature ripping Jackson’s face off, but who cares? Do you know anyone else who owns a monkey? Actually, that might have been the reason for his wonky nose, damn that pesky monkey!

When people play word association with the words “children” and “Michael Jackson”, they automatically start thinking of evil thoughts designed to ruin the singer’s reputation. Remember everyone; he was acquitted twice of having sexy time with children, spiking them with wine and generally tucking them up in bed with a loving look in his milky eyes. So what are we going on about then? Well there was that time in Berlin where Michael proudly showed off his offspring. Most people would pass an infant round a room, but if you’ve got more money than sense, then dangling the tot of a hotel balcony is a much better option of showing your love for children.

Chances are that you’ve never met Michael Jackson and at best, have had to settle for his sister Janet. So how do we get an insight into how the singer acted and behaved when not plagued with dodgy allegations? Well a conveniently released book that’s out just in time for Christmas entitled “My Friend Michael” by close friend Frank Cascio might be able to help us. All sorts of fascinating aspects are revealed, such as a fun loving side to the star who:

“Giggled while throwing a bucket of water over unsuspecting dinner guests.”

Imagine that, you’re sitting down about to bite into a delicious piece of cow and then bloody Michael Jackson covers you in water, touches his crotch and then runs to his room to escape from the people he’s just narked off. But if you think that was abnormal behaviour, it gets slightly weirder. Cascio wrote

“Princess Diana was at the top of Jackson’s list of women he wanted to date, and that Jackson made out with one of his fan club members.”

We can only assume that Jackson had this crush on Princess Diana before her body was smashed to bits by her drunk driver/the paparazzi/MI5 in a Paris tunnel. Unless, of course, we never really discovered how sick and twisted he really was and he really had a love and fetish of dead princess corpses. We’ll never bloody know.

So is the book all happiness and rainbows? Sadly not as Frank Cascio seemingly wants to portray his former friend as a drug addict, seemingly without the help of ‘Sexy’ Dr. Conrad Murray. More extracts from the book say:

“Jackson started one of his anniversary shows an hour late because the star was high on drugs. Particularly in late tours, when Michael was under great stress and needed help falling asleep.”

We await the mental Michael Jackson fans to start nitpicking the book to pieces like vultures and explaining how his former best friend is a total liar and has painted the wrong image.

Finding a man to play Michael Jackson in a biopic is no easy task. Listen, LaToya Jackson is surely not in the picture, despite being MJ’s reanimated corpse. Think about it. You need someone who vaguely looks like the former King of Pop.

Naturally, what with Michael going from handsome black man to Roswell white man, there’s not many people who are up to the task, unless someone creates some ET/human/chameleon hybrid.

However, seeing as a Michael Jackson biopic is in the pipeline, there’s actors being touted to guzzle Propofol like UHT milk. And oddly, most of them are white.

Weirdly enough, Johnny Depp has been made the favourite to play Jackson in a film that will be made by Ghostbusters producers Ivan Reitman and Tom Pollock. Let us hope that their ghost enthusiasm hasn’t waned and they include that amazing MJ seance held by Derek Acorah when he channelled Mike and said ‘Say hi to Quincy Jones for me.’

Anyway, bookmakers Paddy Power opened betting and Depp ran away with a hilarious lead with odds of 4/1 with other big white names like High School Musical’s Zac Effron getting odds at 9/2 and Justin Timberlake at 12/1.

Will Smith and Usher have also been mentioned too, but that kinda spoils our angle on the article.

Sharon McHugh, spokesperson for Paddy Power, said in a statement:

“It’s going to be one mammoth task trying to get someone good enough at acting and dancing to fill Michael Jackson’s moon-walking shoes but when it comes to the race we’re betting it don’t matter if he’s black or white!”

Jesus Christ. Anyway, one person who has been cruelly overlooked is the marvellously odd Eddie Murphy who is certainly not averse to playing different characters with different faces. Better yet, he’s got form when it comes to singing bad synth-soul!

Check this out. He could totally do a Jamie Foxx when he played Ray Charles and sing the OST!

And, even BETTER than that, Eddie Murphy has links to Michael Jackson. Yes, he appeared in one of MJ’s videos (Do You Remember The Time), but Jackson appeared on one of Eddie’s singles from ’93.

Yes he did. And boy howdy, you’ll laugh when you see this video. Eddie dressed up like he’s just been kicked out of the Blue Oyster club and Jackson looking as ghoulish as ever!

Enjoy this one and start putting your money on Eddie Murphy playing Jackson in his biopic. Oh, and Carlton from the Fresh Prince to play Sexy Conrad Murray, please.

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Deathbed for sale. What a peculiar notion. That said, it has a lovely ring to it. It almost sounds like an Agatha Christie thriller. Either way, Michael Jackson’s deathbed was up for auction so that his mental fans could buy it and have sex with themselves in it.

That’s because they’re hugely lonely and there’s no room for another face in the mirror because Mad Jackson fans are too enveloped by the aura of Jackson himself.

Anyway, the deathbed has been pulled from auction because some bright spark realised that it might be a little distasteful selling a giant bed filled with celebrity corpse goo. Shame. We hoped a mad-scientist would buy it and try cloning an army of Michael Jacksons.

Jackson’s estate stepped in and asked Julien’s Auctions to remove the item, which had a pre-sale start price of between $3,000 and $5,000.

That seems cheap, especially given that MJ would have almost certainly paid a ludicrous amount for it while he was alive (people saw him coming – we reckon he got overcharged for Snickers… “certainly sir, that will be $40,000“).

Hmm. Anyway, the queen-sized headboard was removed from the auction and sadly, it appears that the mattress was never an option because it was full of lovely,  stainy evidence from when Jackson got his Propofol milk and went and died under the sexy glare of Conrad Murray (now on suicide watch).

Still, there’s a number of items from Michael’s rented mansion still up for grabs! Like what? You can get yourself some paintings by Maurice Utrillo and Henri Rosseau, or if you’re a greedy bastard, there’s silverware to be had.

Or, for the macabre amongst you, there’s a kitchen chalkboard with a handwritten note which reads “I [heart] Daddy. SMILE, it’s for free,” written in childlike text – presumably by one of his grieving children.

If that all fills you with horror, you could do something completely normal and dress up as Michael Jackson for the rest of your life and sit in your room doing quiet impressions of the late singer while listening to his later work, trying to convince you its as good as the Thriller LP.

Which it isn’t you mental berks.

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Remember Michael Jackson’s amazing tribute event in Cardiff where people bought overpriced tickets to watch Alien Ant Farm, 3T, JLS and LaToya Jackson (aka Michael’s animated corpse) prance around on MJ’s grave?

Of course, most of the Jackson family thought the tribute was in terrible taste, what with it taking place in the middle of Conrad Murray’s trial.

The whole thing was beset with controversy, even to the point where absolutely insane Michael Jackson fans boycotted the whole thing, calling it a scam. Well, maybe those lunatics were onto something because Global Events – the people who put the show on – have now gone into administration leaving everyone who worked on the show unpaid for their work. HURRAY FOR MICHAEL JACKSON’S LEGACY!

The news, reported by Stereoboard (in a less funny way than us) if anyone wants to sue anyone over defamation of character, broke after some of the people who worked on the show went mental on twitter, using the hashtags #unpaidMJTalentTeam and #HELPGETMEPAID.

Sadly, everyone was too busy making jokes about #xfactor to give the vaguest of shits.

Anyway, this looks like a case of a bunch of lighting crew and roadies not getting paid, right? WRONG. The artists haven’t got paid either. Of course, the backstage crew should get paid first because they need the money more and, secondly, the artists should’ve done the whole thing for free if they loved Michael Jackson as much as they say they did.

Of course, now they’ve not been paid, you just watch all the pop stars saying “Oh, we were totally going to give our fee to a charity like Michael would’ve wanted.” You just watch.

A twitter user named Dom Pisani has been tweeting and writing about the whole thing, shouting:

“Not impressed that Global Live Events have gone bust leaving all who work tirelessly on the MJ Tribute concert unpaid!! #unpaidMJTalentTeam.”

They followed this up with:

“Still no payment from Michael Jackson Tribute Concert, apparently even artists are missing money. Doesnt look promising.”

“@Ivy_MJJC @misschiviouss @loakim45 #unpaidMJTalentTeam Keep tweetin guys, we need ppl to notice. Noones paid, guess that means charities too. wud really appreciate you posting it guys, they can’t be allowed to get away with it.”

Another user, Aaron Mavinga, wrote:

“HELP! I worked on the #MJtributeCONCERT last month and Global LIVe Events gone bust. PLEASE RT message #HELPGETMEPAID #unpaidMJTalentTeam.”

Ester GillT-Pleasure Gill (what an idiot name) said on the M4Tribute official Facebook page:

“It’s disgusting that not one person who worked on the concert got paid! A total scam and a real shame to end on! I worked hard on this show and then got told the promoter had not paid any bills at all and went bankrupt over night. What a Scam!! The Promoter should be ashamed of himself for ripping off hard working crew!”

No official word from Global Events as yet, and indeed, there’s nothing to say that these people aren’t lying (we have to say that legally), but y’know, with this being a gossip-based site, we have to report these things between the reviews and photos of boobs.

Looks like, even in death, Michael Jackson can’t catch a break with decent people to work with. Just think about the last person he hired.

Exactly.

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You X Factor fans are a fine bunch of conspiracy theorists and when it was preemptively announced that one of the eliminated caterwaulers had been allowed back into the show, the viewing public gathered in the streets with pitchforks and torches, desperately seeking someone to pin the blame on.

When Loaded’s Man of the Year (1998-Present) Dermot announced that someone called Amelia Lily was to take her place among the X Factor elite, a lot of viewers believed that the result had already been accidentally leaked on STV’s website.

Many people who took to twitter to test the abilities of hashtag filters, thought that the early leaking of the result meant it was a fix. Cries went up and heads were expected to roll. People began looking for Simon Cowell effigies to burn in the streets as the public showed its distaste at being betrayed.

Of course, it turns out that the “fix” was just a technical mistake. Oh well.

STV’s entertainment news site had prepared four stories to cover the possibilities of James Michael, Amelia Lily, 2 Shoes and Jonjo Kerr being voted back onto the show by a listless, zombified public. Those four stories were apparently published before the voting lines had closed, and were quickly removed. Cries of “fix” could quickly be dispelled.

OR COULD THEY?

STV released a statement to explain the error and apologise:

“The STV web team prepared four draft stories regarding each returning contestant in anticipation of the result from tonight’s X Factor. The team always prepare articles to cover all eventualities and this week was no different. Due to a technical problem all four drafts went live on our website at approximately 20.10 tonight.

The articles were online for a very short time and were removed as quickly as possible. The technical problem is currently being thoroughly investigated. We would stress that this was purely a technical error and would like to apologise to viewers.”

Could it be that someone working for STV’s site released the details early to point out this year’s X Factor fix? Could it be that STV have been forced to apologise to cover up for the inherent injustice in one of their major shows. Let us not forget that Scottish Television is an ailing commercial broadcaster that relies heavily on the multi-million pound imports of ITV’s successful shows for revenue.

Wouldn’t they look to protect that asset from criticism?

Who cares? Decide for yourself.

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DON’T PANIC EVERYONE! Frankie from The Saturdays has been found alive and well! Go back about your business.

The World was left in a state of shock when The Saturdays pitched up on London’s Oxford Street to turn on the Christmas lights, only to find that Frankie (the one people know the name of) wasn’t there.

It turns out that the former S Club Juniors singer was just feeling a bit poorly, so wasn’t able to join her band mates when they officially started Christmas on Tuesday evening.

Rumours circulated that the singer must have been kidnapped as part of a terrorist plot to derail the musical behemoth that is The Saturdays. The plan came about when senior Al-Qaeda leaders discovered documentary evidence that suggested that The Saturdays, the most powerful pop group in the West, are unable to defend the country in their giant fighting robots, which can merge together to form a giant mechanical monster, when they are not all together.

Hold on, we may have confused the Saturdays with the Power Rangers for a minute.

No, Frankie just wasn’t feeling well and apparently wasn’t up to the task of standing on a stage with 4 other people to do a single synchronised movement, despite the fact that this has formed the basis of her career to date.

Now that she’s back, The Saturdays can resume being the biggest pop band in Britain that is still yet to have had any semblance of commercial success outside of an ad campaign or a copy of Now! magazine.

Although, thinking about it, we can’t help but feel that if The Saturdays did actually become Power Rangers, they’d probably be a bit more successful and we might actually care whether or not one of them was too ill to flick a bloody switch on Oxford Street.

Oh well, at least we now know how many Saturdays it takes to switch on a light bulb. If only we could remember their names.

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Ever looked at David Gest and wondered if he keeps his face in position with a large bulldog clip like Kent Brockman from The Simpsons? If so, when he takes it off, does his head look like a hot scrotum?

Either way, Gest seems like a decent enough bloke for someone who has been ravaged by the entertainment industry and mental enough to marry Liza Minnelli while she was in her Aged Alcoholic role (according to Gest himself at least).

And now that the reality TV shows have dried up, Gest thought it would be a good idea to make a film about Michael Jackson, a man who shared the same plastic surgeon with David… which explains why they both look so very, very odd.

Apparently, the new film about Michael – which has made its premiere in London – will “set the story straight” about the pop cadaver.

At the showing, unsurprisingly, loads of insane Michael Jackson fans stopped Moonwalking For Justice from the Conrad ‘Sexy’ Murray trial, to show up in fancy dress. Honestly. What is it with Jacko fans wanting to dress up like him all the time?

Half the time, these kids just look like Roswell aliens in half mast trousers. Put them all together, and their “HEE!” and groin grabs makes you think you’re stuck in a chimp enclosure.

ANYWAY.

Gest said of the film Michael Jackson: The Life of an Icon:

“I woke up one morning and said I’m going to make a movie about Michael’s life because I was tired of reading all this crap about him, all these tales that were so fictitious, and I thought let’s set the story straight but let’s give the people a movie that says something new. Not the same rehash, the same moves and that’s what I did.”

Sycophantic garbage then?

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Odious slit-eyed dolt Matt Cardle has decided to further distance himself from the leagues of likeability this week by joining the ranks of Charlie Sheen, Lee Ryan, David Shayler et al by making dubious comments regarding the circumstances surrounding 9/11.

Whilst dodging his destined career as a Wetherspoons deputy-manager, the unflattering-hat enthusiast has stated that:

“The whole 9/11 thing… something’s not quite right there.”

Reports are unclear, but we understand the relatives of the 2,998 people who died as a result of the attacks are framing pictures of Matt ‘bloody’ Cardle as we speak, delighted as they are to have a small-town stubbly talent-show-nobody cast doubt upon the circumstances of the appalling death of their beloved kinfolk.

The entirely fictitious Mrs.Houndslow of Wisconsin, whose son Jack perished in a cloud of dusty red bone and flesh in the bowels of the South Tower is quoted as saying, in a completely imaginary interview with us:

“Thank God and Jesus that the United Kingdom’s X-Factor winner of whatever year it was Matthew Cardle and his hat/cap are on the case. NOW we may finally get some answers. Other than the current answers we have that make perfect sense.”

Matthew “Matt” Cardle’s “something’s not quite right” allegation may yet see the FBI re-opening their investigation, and also lead to him suffering several disingenuous interviews with Jon Ronson.

Mis-hearing the news that he was “in the X-Factor” for “in the X-files” the human embodiment of the word ‘smug’ Cardle further gifted the world by stating:

“It’s just not what they say it is. Other conspiracies might be true and the one I believe might also be bulls**t. But all I do know is what they’re saying is bulls**t.

“From the things I’ve seen… I don’t care what anyone says. To not question it is silly, I think.”

The alleged singer-songwriter, unaware of the fact that he had just broken all the rules not only of grammar but of logic and of the English language in general, seemed blissfully unaware that hundreds of still-mourning families may not welcome his admittedly insightful “bulls**t” hypothesis.

Reports that his silly bloody hats are lined with tin-foil are unconfirmed at time of publication.

Towards the end of his dog-eared career, Michael Jackson began to resemble an eerie looking clown who’s wax face was tarnishing in a mild midday heat. See, we can say that because that’s our opinion. But if you go to a concert by not-so-important Jackson sibling Janet, that right will be taken from you.

Due to popular media such as Twitter and Facebook, a group of Pete Doherty poetry loving twerps can use the power of the internet to raise their voice and stick it to the man. Yer! Peace for all and freedom for those in Tibet – all planned over a sweatshop produced laptop whilst sipping on a Grande Latte with cinnamon swirls, lemon shots and organic camel milk.

But if you dare comment on Michael Jackson having a wonky nose at a Janet Jackson gig you may face the wrath of Joe Jackson who’ll chase you with his famous beating belt. Or as he called it, the “dancing encourager.” But why would Janet Jackson stop us from voicing our opinion? Surely it has nothing to do with the ongoing trial of ‘Sexy’ Dr. Conrad Murray? Oh.

Janet Jackson wasn’t part of the recent tribute show in Cardiff where the line up was effectively a pick of the best from X-Factor – if you can call them that. Who wouldn’t want to shell out a load of cash to see JLS, Alexandra Burke and the one that covered a Snow Patrol song? You know, she looks like a horse. Gutted you missed out? Who wouldn’t be, as La Toya Jackson came out of retirement to sing songs that nobody knows!

But why didn’t Janet perform? Did she feel threatened about being outperformed by Craig David or the show’s emotionless presenter Fearne Cotton? Don’t be daft, Janet has how own career as well (supposedly). And she’s touring! Whoop-de-doo!

Amazingly, it isn’t billed under the title “Janet Jackson: Not As Good As My Brother Michael Tour,” but the flashier sounding “Number Ones, Up Close And Personal.” Somebody call Anne Robinson over at Watchdog, we can’t think of a single number one that Janet has had. That’s about as believable as the time Michael said he wasn’t addicted to painkillers.

Now, we’re a little confused; how would security monitor gig goers? In theory it mightn’t be overly difficult on the face of it as we all know that roughly eight people turn up to an average Janet Jackson gig. After some vague research, it appears that Janet is referring to a support act comedian who’s touring with her. Strict stipulations of the concerts state that:

“The comedian will not make any reference to Janet Jackson or the Jackson family; although that means that any comedian sharing the stage with the singer will also be gagged against any gags aimed at Tito, Jermaine et al, it’s clear that in the current climate it’s her late brother’s name that Janet is keen to spare. Janet is currently playing in Australia where she’ll remain until mid-November when switching to South Africa.”

Aren’t there only three cities in Australia? Because the country is more of a giant land mass containing only rocks, sand and dingo’s eating the natives children, more time will be spent travelling for Janet and her entourage than performing.

But hey, now that the freedom of speech issue has been cleared up, you’re now free to attend a Janet Jackson gig and discuss your own opinions as loudly as you want. Was Michael really a man who liked to slip children the odd glass of Jesus Juice to ease them into one of his super duper special hugs?

Or did he attempt to peel back Bubble’s foreskin to see his special monkey banana? Neither of them are with us now, so we’ll never know.

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The trial of Michael Jackson’s personal physician – ‘Sexy’ Dr Conrad Murray – will enter a new phase this week: The thoroughly tedious, no-one cares anymore phase. There are rumours which suggest that even Jackson’s own family are beyond caring.

The doctor’s attorneys trying to counter three weeks of testimony, attempting to show that Jacko caused his own death.

Sadly, fans of the former King of Pop and relations are utterly bored by the whole thing and are now wishing they’d never shown any interest in the first place.

Lawyers for Dr. Conrad Murray have told jurors that the involuntary manslaughter case is getting increasingly boring and that, there’s nothing particularly interesting about the administering of propofol, nor indeed does anyone really care about Jackson’s sleeping patterns anymore.

Equally boringly is something to do with several pills of the sedative lorazepam and Michael Jackson’s later musical output.

Basically, the whole thing is getting tired already.

Lead defence attorney – Ed Chernoff – says that Murray’s team are going to try and answer two fundamental questions:

“First, how did Michael Jackson get to this point, this desperate point. And second, what happened when Dr. Murray was out of the room?”

A third point was considered, but Chernoff passed out with boredom. Everyone else present around him was also fast asleep and didn’t help him, leaving him on the floor as lifeless at Jackson himself.

Fans, who have been holding vigils for the late singer outside the courtroom, are also said to be delirious with the mundanity of the situation.

Some have been complaining of aching legs, while others have switched allegiance to Prince who is equally weird as MJ, but crucially, still alive and therefore much better value than a rotting cadaver.

There’s also mutterings that Jackson’s own family can’t be bothered with the whole thing as they expected this whole thing to move along a little faster.

Jermaine Jackson has shown that he’s bored of the whole thing by finding the time to write a book about Michael while the trial continues. Tito meanwhile has spent weeks thinking about taking that course about HTML programming so he can do his own MySpace profile without any help.

Conrad Murray himself is said to be considering pleading guilty, just so everyone can stop reading half-baked articles about Michael Jackson.

The trial continues for the next 40 years.

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Michael Jackson looked funny. It doesn’t matter if you love his music or happen to be a blinkered, crazed fan – there’s no hiding from the fact that his face was downright odd. So odd, it could curdle water.

Ever seen anyone else with a nose like his? No. La Toya Jackson does not count as she looks a bit Roswell too.

Speaking of which, Rashida Jones – the daughter of music producer Quincy Jones – has revealed that she thinks that Michael Jackson was a ”bit of an alien” to most people.

Rashida grew up around the late superstar because of his close friendship with her father, rather than any nefarious reason that absolutely everyone reading this thought of. Of course, Quincy produced ‘Off The Wall’, ‘Thriller’ and ‘Bad’ or, as they’re commonly known, the last time Michael Jackson actually produced any decent music.

Have you heard You Are Not Alone? Jesus H. Crutches.

Talking to reputable news source, Playboy magazine, she said:

“Michael basically grew up with us, so I have a million memories of him. We were at each other’s house all the time. He was definitely a little bit of an alien, for sure, and when I was young, it felt as if he was my age, not 18 years older, but with just a little bit more pep.”

The older Rashida got, the way Michael behaved changed. Instead of looking lustily at her, he decided to reveal what a prankster he was. Apparently, Jackson loved to drive around, secretly squirting strangers with water pistols.

Well. You hope it was a water pistol.

She added:

“Later in my life, we’d go out on the town together. He always wore those surgical masks. Once, my sister, Michael, Emmanuel Lewis and I got in a car with Super Soakers and went by a movie theatre and supersoaked the hell out of people waiting in line. They had no idea they’d just been supersoaked by the King of Pop.”

What an unbearable wankshaft.

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Dr Conrad Murray is more than just a doctor. If the Michael Jackson manslaughter trail has taught us anything, it’s that Murray is quite the swordsman, with a troupe of dancing mistresses being paraded before the world.

He should be pleased AND point out that they were all of legal and consenting age.

Which brings us to Michael Jackson who, as we know, liked to tuck children into their beds and totally not have sex with them. Either way, he’s utterly dead now, and Conrad Murray is getting blamed for it. And Sexy Conrad is not going out without a fight. In fact, he’s blaming someone else entirely! ATTABOY!

While unable to explain Jackson’s death to the family Jackson (why on Earth should Murray know? It’s not like he’s a doct… oh.), it’s clear that he has a theory.

Basically, Murray is pointing the finger at other doctors. Sod the hippocratic boy’s club, this is dog-eat-dog!

Murray reckons:

“I was not aware of any other medications that he was taking, but I heard that he was seeing a Dr. Klein three times a week in Beverly Hills.”

“And he never disclosed that to me.”

Defence lawyer Ed Chernoff is the man tasked with saying that Dr. Arnold Klein (not sexy, like Conrad and his mistresses) got Jackson addicted Jackson to Demerol, a narcotic pain reliever, during the singer’s regular visits to his Beverly Hills dermatology clinic in the weeks before he did a die.

Murray says:

“His production team had said to me recently that his worst days in the set is when he had gone to Dr. Klein’s office, which is about three times a week.”

“And when he came back, he was basically wasted and required at least 24 hours for recovery.”

Apparently, Jackson’s speech would be slow and slurred after visits to Klein. So either Klein was taking Jackson to the pub and loading him up with pints of Stella and 2-for-1 meal deals (even Michael couldn’t resist a gammon steak with a pineapple ring atop, surely?) or, as some suspect, Jackson was a terrible medicine junkie who was killing himself.

Or, y’know, he actually did get someone manslaughtering one off on him.

But there’s a lot of talk about Murray (still sexy) trying to wean Jacko off propofol because… and listen up Jacksonites… there’s a very good chance that Michael was a gigantically flawed human being addicted to all manner of stuff which belied his public persona.

Jackson’s death came after two nights of not using propofol. That’s all we’re saying. And that it appears Jackson begged Sexy Conrad to give him propofol. It appears that Jackson liked propofol so much that he called it his milk.

Either way, it doesn’t matter. You lot have made your minds up haven’t you?

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Haw, poor Michael Forever. The beleaguered tribute show to Michael Jackson is about as useful as a teapot made from Rizla. Basically, half the family hate it, the other half performing at it, joined by a cast of also-rans and nobodies.

And now, someone you will have heard of – the Black Eyed Peas – have cancelled their scheduled appearance at this weekend’s concert at Cardiff’s Millennium Stadium due to “unavoidable circumstances”.

Those ‘circumstances’ seem to be a realisation that this is going to be the worst gig in the history of performing arts. Yes, that includes BEP’s Super Bowl halftime show.

One of the biggest names on the bill in Smokey Robinson who, in fairness, is a bona fide genius… but alas, anyone who saw him at the Electric Proms will know that, thanks to the miracle of surgery, Robinson now looks like he’s permanently got a pair of tights over his face.

That wonderful voice is now not enough to stop children from cowering in his presence.

Chris Hunt, chief executive officer of Global Live Events, isn’t phased though. He says:

“It is with regret that we announce the removal of Black Eyed Peas from the Michael Forever bill, but I look forward to a great night with other earth shattering artists.”

Earth shattering you say? Who might that be?

Well, hosted by the hate-inducing Fearne Cotton, revellers will be able to gawp at Marlon, Tito, Jackie and LaToya all looking like lost toddlers on a big stage, while Cee Lo Green, Leona Lewis, Alien Ant Farm, 3T and JLS will roll up and do their best to keep a straight face while talking about Michael Jackson’s cadaver.

Sadly, Kiss have been removed after everyone remembered that Gene Simmons said:

“Well, you know, where there’s smoke there’s fire. There’s no question in my mind he molested those kids. Not a doubt.”

Oh well.

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They are lots of words to describe Michael Jackson. Depending on your relationship with him, then your opinion will certainly differ. Joe Jackson loved Michael with all his heart and whipping belt due to the money he raked in and owners of tacky shops loved his credit card.

Fans who met Michael were touched in various ways. Some more than others, allegedly.

But what about people like us who never got the chance to see the former King of Pop in the flesh? We’ll never get the opportunity after his sudden death in 2009, but ever since his untimely passing, Michael Jackson is the gift that keeps on giving. With the “Moonwalking For Justice” trial, Dr. Conrad Murray – who’s accused of his manslaughter – faces an uphill battle of convincing the world he didn’t administer lethal painkillers to the singer. We can also verify that Jackson had an ace sense of humour, just look at the title of his newest album, Immortal.

When normal people die, a gathering of close family and friends mourn the loss of an individual as they shed a tear and dwell on their memories of the dearly departed.

But when Michael Jackson died, he changed the rules on how the burying of the dead should be carried out, effectively creating the formula for funerals 2.0. His death was shared to the world so fans could unite in waves of salty tears and then hastily buy rehashed merchandise.

If fans of the former King of Pop want to spend money on a product which is, essentially, a cash-in for the Jackson estate, then they should quickly purchase this album. Under the trades description act, Michael Jackson can’t claim to be immortal. Mainly because he’s buried six feet under with only worms for company.

So what’s “Immortal” all about then? Supposedly it’ll be:

“Available from November 21 and features a collection of the late star’s original tracks that have been “reimagined” by musical designer Kevin Antunes.”

Essentially it’s a remix album then? You’d assume so based on the fact that remixes are an interpretation of an original piece of work, but Antunes said:

“Michael’s legacy as the greatest entertainer of our lifetime is inspiring beyond words. From the studio to the stage, there’s an undeniable integrity and resolute truth in Michael’s vocal performances that are highlighted in the Immortal arrangements. It was built with love and respect for Michael’s music, his family, and his millions of fans around the world.”

With a release date of November 21st, we love how this release falls during a busy time for the Jackson estate. Not only is there a MJ cult-esque commemorative gig happening in Cardiff in October, we still have the ongoing Moonwalking For Justice trail, featuring Dr. Conrad Murray versus mental Jackson fans.

In the middle of all this, we imagine that Blanket and Prince Michael will request name changes to be considered vaguely normal.

Michael Jackson wanted to be a child forever, just like Peter Pan. If he was still alive today (and not altering his face with surgery) he might have been asked to do a Disney remake of the film in 3D IMAX surround sound. Two immortal characters united.

And because Peter Pan is a cartoon child, he couldn’t have accessed Michael of annoying naughty.

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