Shopping. If there’s one thing teenage girls are meant to be good at, it’s that. Right? Well, apparently not. For last night on Young Apprentice, Lord Sugar’s minions proved that particular stereotype spectacularly wrong.

The task they were set was simple enough; they just had to buy stuff. That’s it. Not buy stuff and sell it on, not buy stuff and brand it, not buy stuff and make an ad for it. No. Just buy stuff. Specifically, they had to buy 10 items for the waxwork figures at Madame Tussauds.

We’re not sure if the Sith Lord was intending to use the task to smash gender stereotypes, or if he’s just recruited a particularly useless bunch this year. Either way, they were utterly hopeless.

Before the children could fail at buying stuff though, there was the usual team rejig. Which now seemingly exists to try and get Posh Harry out of the competition, for he was moved over to be on a team with Lizzie, Hayley and Zara. Other Harry, Irish James and Heya meanwhile, formed their own little miniature team. Lord Sugar tried to use their original names, but frankly there’s been more swapping of members than even an average day in the Sugababes, so we’ve lost track of who’s meant to be who.

What we do know is this; Other Harry made the most pathetic attempt of all time to put himself forward for project manager. He said he’d be alright with giving it a shot but he didn’t know London, so maybe Heya should do it. AT LEAST A HUNDRED TIMES. Eventually, Heya said she’d do it if she really had to. And so began the most disorganised shopping trip of all time.

It turns out that Heya had no actual plan at all, just a vague list of places in London that she might’ve been once. She muttered some stuff about sort of knowing Camden, and then her team all got into taxis and just went off to try and look for things.

Heya stayed with Irish James – presumably to stop him from using his “negotiating skills” to tell people that they were utter cockmonkeys – and embarked on some ridiculous lying to try and get a cheap guitar. Apparently, at the tender age of 6, these children have already worked out that lying is the way to get to the top in corporate life. And so they went around guitar shops saying they needed one cheap for Heya’s brother’s birthday, the lying bastards. What would the Occupy London protesters say?

Unfortunately for Heya, once she’d tricked people into giving her a cheap guitar, it became apparent that she’d forgotten to actually work out who was looking for what. Or even what they were looking for. They’d been told to try and find a Dashiki, which they couldn’t even pronounce, let alone find. Other Harry took to roaming the streets of Shepherd’s Bush asking passing strangers if they knew what it was. Which they didn’t. Although maybe they did, and just didn’t fancy telling a besuited infant with a film crew in tow. Find it out the hard way, Other Harry!

Unbelievably enough, the other team actually did manage to find out what a Dashiki was, but were utterly shite at everything else. Project manager Lizzie decided that maybe some organization might be a good thing, and got her team to ring around before the set out. Which seemed like a good idea. Except it wasn’t.

Because it turns out that ringing around isn’t enough to stop two teenage girls ignoring all logic and reason and heading off to Croydon to try and buy a pocket watch. Croydon. That place which is best known for Kate Moss, Ikea, and being on fire. Sod all the jewelers of London, Hayley and Zara really fancied a nice little day trip and a £130 pocket watch. Who doesn’t?

Posh Harry, meanwhile, was busily ignoring everything everyone ever said, and was trying to buy a child’s suit in an adult’s tailor on Savile Row. It didn’t matter how many times Lizzie yelled at him to try a kid’s shop, he wasn’t having any of it. It’s almost like he can’t hear anyone whose household income is less than £250,000 per year. Which means even if he sees this, he won’t be able to understand it, so we can be as horrible about him as we like. The cockwhore.

Which is a good thing, because clearly everyone thinks he’s a total dickwad. Everyone, that is, except for Lizzie. After her team lost the task by spending a whacking great £500 more than the others and not even getting all the stuff, she decided to let Posh Harry go back to the house, and brought Zara and her pocketwatch and Hayley and her manners back into the boardroom with her.

After some debate about whether or not Zara is an evil, domineering bitch from hell, Hayley found herself sent home for being just too quiet. Which really, was missing the two most important lessons of this week’s show. Firstly, Zara really needs to find a new boardroom outfit. And secondly, it turns out shambolic disorganization IS the way to win at life. Which is great news all round.

Oh look at you, all pleased for Beyonce and Jay-Z for growing a lickle baby waby inside her. It’s amazing isn’t it? She’ll go from Best Woman In The World to Shoving Stupid Pictures Of Her Spawn All Over Her Stupid Facebook in one felled swoop.

Of course, if you’ve been gawping at her, you will have noticed that she has been showing something of a baby bump off. This is so we can all coo about her pregnancy glow, right?

Well, rumour has it that, while she is indeed waiting on a baby, she’s not pregnant at all! NOT PREGNANT AT ALL. So what’s the muttering?

Well, as everyone is reporting at the minute, Beyonce is rumoured to be using a fake baby bump, thereby making her pregnancy more obvious.

Why would she do that? Because the publicity is nice? Probably.

However, if she’s got a plastic stomach on, then maybe, just maybe, she’s actually giving birth to a plastic baby. A baby that will never cry. A baby that will never age. A baby you can leave in a drawer and not worry about social services trying to kick your ass while you go on tour for a year.

Elsewhere, some site called Oh No They Didn’t, have reported that a surrogate could possibly be carrying Beyonce and Jay-Z’s baby.

“Rumor has it that Beyoncé is wearing a fake prosthetic while her unknown surrogate carries her baby,” it claims.

Lawyers, please take note: We didn’t claim she was faking it. We claimed that she was actually pregnant with a plastic child.

Just so you know exactly what you’re suing us for.

Follow hecklerspray on Twitter or else we’ll kill you in your sleep or join our Facebook group if anyone is still daft enough to use it or BUY ONE OF OUR STUPID T-SHIRTS OR WE’LL KILL EVERYONE YOU’VE EVER LOVED!

Have you seen the new video that Beyonce has made? She’s got a new record out called Countdown which is a little off-kilter. It might be rubbish, it might be great… we’ll have to let it bed in or something first.

But that doesn’t matter.

This is about her new video. Cor. Her new, splendid, attractive video where she looks really, really great in a variety of really great ways. Have you seen it? Have you? She looks amazing. Really amazing. Watch it over the jump. She’s amazing.

Beyonce goes through a variety of costume changes… all of which are totally amazing… and she looks really great too. Amazing. So very, very amazing.

She’s got amazing short hair. Then really amazing long hair.

*dribble*

She looks like a ’60s Motown sexbomb at one point. Amazing. Then she looks like Tina Turner, only more amazing. Stupidly amazing.

*takes trousers off*

Then she does an amazing dance routine. It’s the best dance routine ever. Really it is. Because Beyonce is amazing. She so amazing. Really, really amazing.

Have you seen it yet?

It’s amazing. Just… uh… gotta go and sort something… ummm… it won’t take a minute…

*gets off with Beyonce’s new video*

Follow hecklerspray on Twitter or else we’ll kill you in your sleep or join our Facebook group if anyone is still daft enough to use it or BUY ONE OF OUR STUPID T-SHIRTS OR WE’LL KILL EVERYONE YOU’VE EVER LOVED!

Music lovers the world over were last Friday celebrating the news that Curtis “50 Cent” Jackson had decided not to release his forthcoming new album “Black Magic” due to an unspecified spat with his record company Interscope.

In a cruel reversal of fortune for anyone with ears and a brain, Jackson (we’re not going to dignify the whole “50 Cent” thing, much less “Fiddy”) has now announced that he has “begun to resolve” the problems so it looks like the globe will yet again be gifted with another turgid 45 minutes of monosyllabic mumbling and barely-concealed misogynism.

The big mystery is what sparked the whole thing off in the first place. We investigate…

Jackson, who has as many facial expressions as he has tones of voice – honestly, do a google image search, he always looks like he is struggling with a particularly vexing Countdown conundrum – threw his rattle out of his pram via twitter, as is the fashion these days.

Rumours that it was due to an executive suggesting that naming an album after a brand of chocolates last popular in the nineteen-eighties are unconfirmed at time of publication.

Jackson’s twitter updates on the subject are sadly about as clear as his vocal enunciation:

“Ok I tried to be cool with my record company. I went to the meeting talk to everyone and s**t feels like there moving in slow motion (sic),”

Not many clues there.

“I’m sorry to announce I will not be releasing a new album this year if we don’t get on the same page. I would rather not launch my album without a plan the whole system is executing.”

Not much better. “A plan the whole system is executing”? Really. What?

“I don’t know why they play with me. They know how I get. My whole career I’ve been doing s**t and they have been playing catch up. This is the last f**king album. THEY BETTER WAKE UP AND WORK.”

We’ll agree that he HAS been doing shit his whole career but he shouldn’t be so down on himself. It’s a big marketplace, not everyone can be talented.

Basically it all sounds like a massively girly hissy fit, with Jackson being unhappy with the rate of progress and deciding the best way to speed it all up was by cancelling the whole thing and refusing to play anymore, like a great big bellend.

Again, reports of renaming the album to the more popular “Milk Tray” brand of chocolates are unsubstantiated.

No official release date has been set. So there is hope.

Oh and he’s also writing a book, adding ‘poor writer’ to his personal credits that also include ‘dreadful actor’, ‘appalling musician’ and ‘video game character more convincing than the human it was based on’.

Follow hecklerspray on Twitter or join our Facebook group or BUY ONE OF OUR STUPID T-SHIRTS!

A million quid a year. Look at that number again. A million. That’s £83,300 a month. £19,230 a week. £3,846 a day.

And that what Carol Vorderman earnt on Countdown. That’s Countdown, mind you – the mid-afternoon Channel 4 gameshow watched exclusively by ironic students and the infirm. A million quid for sticking bits of card on a wall and pretending to find Des O’Connor amusing. Still, it’s a million quid she won’t be getting any more.

Carol Vorderman has quit Countdown, you see, claiming that her bosses demanded that she took a 90% pay cut. And, insulted, Carol Vorderman has taken to just about every newspaper on the face of the earth to bitch about the injustice. On the plus side, at least now Carol Vorderman will be best known for being greedy and vindictive instead of for thinking she’s about 500 times more attractive than she actually is. That’s a step up.

Countdown has a special place in the hearts of the British. It was the first show broadcast on Channel 4, it has survived for 26 years without any format changes and they repeat it at about 3am so you can be comforted by it even when you’re having a panic attack because you’ve just chased some masked intruders out of your house.

Countdown has been defined by those who appeared on it. Richard Whiteley made the show his own before his untimely death, Des Lynam briefly hurtled the show into the realms of frighteningly raw animal sexuality and then Des O’Connor was, well, Des O’Connor. Pfff. Even the Dictionary Corner lady, Susie Dent, has made an impression as the most confusingly alluring female Jimmy Carr impersonator in the land.

And then there’s Carol Vorderman, the woman who’s been there from day one, slowly morphing from a chubby geek with a bad fringe into the sort of alarmingly sexual old lady who dresses like a girl a quarter of her age and looks as if she spends her weekends pinning frightened young men up against the railings at yacht parties to their obvious discomfort.

But Carol Vorderman isn’t going to be on Countdown any more. This is because, as she told every single newspaper in the country yesterday, she was forced out by evil TV bosses who demanded that she took a 90% pay cut. Here’s one of Vorderman’s shorter diatribes, this time to The Sun:

“It was such a callous thing to do. What on earth was possessing them to behave like this. They knew which buttons to press and were just kicking me.”

And it does seem that a 90% pay cut does constitute something of a kicking, at least until you discover that for being the assistant on Countdown – which, let’s face it, is hardly deep sea trawler fishing – Carol Vorderman was paid a million quid a year. That’s just a bewildering amount of money, like suggesting that John Craven gets paid in giant ruby statues of himself for presenting Castle In The Country.

Still, it’s too late now. Carol Vorderman has left Countdown, so she’s given herself a 100% pay cut. We just pray that churning out endless volumes books and games about Sudoku, banging on in public about detox diets like she invented them and doing adverts for everything from dubious-sounding loan companies to butter pays the bills.

And will Carol Vorderman be able to get any more TV work after this? It’ll be a brave executive who hires Vorderman now, knowing that she’ll run screeching to the press as soon as she’s made to do something she’s not keen on. What sort of show will want a vindictive, over-opinionated middle-aged woman with an unusually high opinion of herself anyway?

Loose Women? Oh.