Wonderful news folks! Mario Lopez is getting married! We’re thrilled to bits. You see, we like the chap who played A.C. Slater so much that we turned a boring news article about Coheed & Cambria into a brief history of Mario Lopez.

He really is a very, very splendid man.

And now the Saved By The Beller is all grown-up and getting hitched to, quite possibly, the luckiest woman who ever lived. And something must be in the air because only a few months ago, Zack Morris (aka Mark-Paul Gosselaar) got engaged and… well… Skreech is still trying to live down his sex tape.

Mario Lopez is tying the knot with the beautiful Courtney Mazza. They’ve been together since 2008 and not that long ago, they had a baby together. She’s called Gia. Luckiest little girl who ever lived, thanks to having the most amazing dad in the world.

Of course, Mario Lopez has had a thoroughly fantastic life outside of babies, marriages and Saved By The Bell.

Currently, he’s working as a presenter on Extra (best TV show ever made) and America’s Best Dance Crew (the second best TV show ever made) as well as being the world’s greatest boxing analyst and sometimes host of the not at all strange Miss Teen USA Pageants.

Basically, he’s all kinds of wonderful. Mario Lopez is like life or death. Mario Lopez is like earth, wind and fire. Mario Lopez is like sex to a nympho. Mario Lopez is like ecstasy for ladies, he’s like all races combined in one man. Mario Lopez is like a poor man’s dream, a thug poet.

He’s half-man, half-amazing.

There’s no date set for the wedding, but the best pair of humans who ever lived are reportedly getting married in Mexico and the entire world has been invited.

We’ll be there, crying at the majesty of Mario Lopez.

Have you ever watched Strictly Come Dancing? It’s a terrible programme that actually encourages witless celebrities to cavort around a dancefloor with all the guile and grace of a mule being dragged down three flights of stairs by a Mini Metro.

Not only that, it’s the show that willingly shoves Bruce Forsyth out, bewildered and making dreamlike jokes to himself to polite, pitiful laughter from concerned audience members. The smell of urine and cough-mints must be unbearable.

That said, Auntie BBC is very protective of her baby and is suing an Italian TV channel for making a pornographic version of the show which is quite obviously far, far better than the one we get in Blighty.

The corporation’s Worldwide arm has called in lawyers to sort this out, after they discovered that Mediaset (owned by notoriously nice and honest guy, Silvio Berlusconi) had ripped off the show and added genitals.

Italy, of course, already has a fully licensed version of the show (under the international title ‘Dancing with the Stars’), but now there’s a new version called Baila! which is mucky as hell and based on South American programme Bailando Por Un Sueno.

The mucky South American version once saw a dancer perform topless while simulating sex with her partner. It sounds amazing!

Have a look at the sort of thing it airs.

A spokesperson for the corporation said:

“BBC Worldwide takes the protection of its copyright extremely seriously and is currently undertaking legal action in Italy to protect its ‘Dancing with the Stars’ format.

“It has been named as the world’s most successful reality TV format and has been licensed to over 35 international broadcasters.

“It is very important to BBC Worldwide and its international licensees that the format is protected from infringement.”

However, Pier Silvio Berlusconi – deputy chairman of Mediaset and the Italian Prime Minister’s son – claims there are key differences in the formats of the two shows.

He said in a statement:

“It is a dancing talent show with the peculiarity of involving both celebrities and normal people. The dance talent show is a format that works on commercial television everywhere in the world. We certainly wouldn’t claim that the only reality format is ‘Big Brother’.”

Just imagine John Sergeant taking part in it.

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Cher has a son. He’s called Chaz. Chaz used to be a girl, but now isn’t. And that’s fine because what he looks at when naked in the mirror doesn’t affect anyone but him or who he has sex with. Right? WRONG.

See, America – because it’s filled with judgemental Christian dickheads – completely believes that Chaz Bono’s genitalia it’s everyone business.

That’s why there’s a load of hooting fools all kicking off about Chaz’s appearance on Dancing With the Stars. WHAT WOULD JESUS SAY? You’d hope Jesus would have better things to do with his time than watching dreadful dancing competitions. And Cher? She’s not happy about it at all.

Chaz is the first transgender competitor on the dancing contest and as such, in the name of equality, look just as daft as everyone else in their hideous outfits while badly gyrating around a ballroom floor to some half-baked version of ‘Smooth’ by Carlos Santana.

And people are attacking Chaz with their words, spitting about how disgusting it is that someone who has taken presumably an agonising decision to realign their gender, should want to partake in a television programme.

It’s awful isn’t it?

And Cher has hit out against naysayers on twitter, saying:

“lovelies! Chaz is Being Viciously Attacked on Blogs & Message boards about being on DWTS!This is Still America right ? It took guts 2 do it

One group, who sound particularly lovely, called One Million Moms, who have a goal to fight the “filth many segments of our society, especially the entertainment media,” are urging people to

“Email ABC Network and let them know that we will not tolerate these subjects being forced into our homes.”

Didya hear that? The real tragedy here is that Americans are actively forced by their government to watch Dancing With The Stars. The off button refuses to work while it broadcasts and all channels are required by law to air it. There is no escape outside either, as the show itself is projected onto the sky for all to see.

Poor, poor Christian America. They’re forced to face a thing they simply refuse to understand based on the teachings of some Middle Eastern hippie with holes in his paws.

Good thing none of these Christians are fat, because last time we checked, gluttony was high on the list of sins.

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Jesus Christ. If Coheed & Cambria weren’t lame enough, the bass player from the band (pictured right)  has only gone and done the most rubbish heist in human history. Not content with peddling wearisome lamerock, he’s gone and stolen some antacids from a chemist. With a phone.

Seriously. The pinhead, called Michael Todd, couldn’t even be bothered to write out a stickup note, preferring to tap it out on his mobile and show them that.

It probably said: ‘THS IS A STICKUP PT UR HNDS UP N GV ME ALL UR TABLTS OR ELSE PMSL kthnxbai‘

So what was this complete berk doing then? Well, he made off with a Massachusetts pharmacy’s prescription pain pills a matter of hours before his scheduled rock concert.

Presumably the tablets were to deal with the unbearable pain of a) Having to listen to his own music and b) Dealing with his gratingly sycophantic fanbase.

And even though it barely registers on the crime scale, Todd was arrested by bored policemen who had absolutely no idea he was in a vaguely famous group in the first place.

In fact, most of you haven’t got a clue who Coheed & Cambria are and too busy looking at the lovely picture of AC Slater above. For the record ‘AC’ stands for ‘Albert Clifford’. Of course, Slater was played by the dashing Mario Lopez who describes himself as a ‘committed Catholic’ and a conservative when it comes to voting.

You obviously know him from Saved By The Bell, but he’s appeared in a whole bunch of stuff. Did you know he was in an episode of  The Golden Girls as a Cuban boy named Mario who faced deportation? That must’ve been a gas!

Most recently, he appeared in Dancing with the Stars, finishing in second place, which is just great. Better yet, is that Lopez hosted the creepy sounding Miss Teen USA. AC Slater would’ve definitely approved.

What? Coheed & Cambria? No-one cares about those pricks do they?

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What do we know about Kirstie Alley? Well, we know that her weight wildly fluctuates from ‘quite thin’ to ‘Type 2 Diabetes’. We also know that she was in Cheers. Oh, and she’s a weirdo Scientologist who believes in aliens and that. She’s an ‘Operating Thetan, Level 7′, whatever the shit that means.

Now, the latest thing we need to know about her that, in the past, she’s demanded 2 hours of sex from her boyfriends. Just picture that in your mind’s eye. Think of her bearing down on your naked self, cackling like a wheezing horse with those rolling, glassy eyes.

Lovely.

Kirstie says:

“I really hadn’t had a boyfriend for the last ten years – a serious boyfriend. It was the best ten years of my life. I had a lot of freedom.

“The way I used to pick guys was so shallow. Hot? OK, that’ll be my husband.

“Here’s my big revelation. I decided that in the best of times you have two hours of sex a day, so you have 22 hours left.”

Now, some of you may be thinking that two hours of rumping and pumping isn’t all that much. But consider for a moment, someone like Kirstie Alley DEMANDING you have two hours of sex per day, regardless of whether you’re ill, working, tired or repulsed by the sight of a naked Kirstie Alley.

Alley was talking to Ellen DeGeneres on her blasted show, who interrupted her, saying:

“Whoa, what? Two hours a day?”

Alley, currently cantering around the floor of America’s Dancing With The Stars, replied:

“Not enough? “There’s the prelude, the sex and there’s the winding down.”

Winding down, in this case, probably means wringing the sheets out of Kirstie’s beef smelling sweat.

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Levi Johnston is the master of the art of trolling. It appears his sole aim in life is to annoy supreme pencil neck, Sarah Palin, ’til she reaches the point of explosion. Of course, when she finally KABOOMS, the sky will be thick with impotent rage and garbled words spelled out like the sky has been attacked by a dyslexic skywriter.

Better yet, is that Palin can’t really do much about it because Levi is the father to her grandson. He’s always going to be part of the Palin family.

So imagine the next time they awkwardly meet up, when Levi announces that he’s writing a tell-all book about Palin and her mental, trigger happy family!

And why is Levi writing this book?

“For me, for my boy Tripp and for the country.”

How noble! So what is the book going to be called? ‘Living With The Palins’? Or maybe ‘Inside The Political Storm: Sarah Palin & Me’?

Absolutely not. That’s not nearly funny enough. Levi’s book is to be called ‘Deer in the Headlights: My Life in Sarah Palin’s Crosshairs’! HAHAHA!

We can only hope the dust-jacket features some shoddy photoshopping, with Levi’s head on a deer body with Sarah in a bikini firing rounds into the ground.

Johnston says:

“I want to tell the truth about my close relationship with the Palins, my sense of Sarah and my perplexing fall from grace — how I feel and what I’ve learned”

Or, in English, he’s going to be taking the rise out of all the Palin family, including the prancing ex, Bristol. The publishers are promising that the whole thing is going to be a hoot to read, filled with funny anecdotes.

Seeing as Levi recently bared all for Playgirl, we wouldn’t bet against it. We can only hope that it’s filled with libellous anecdotes and hilarious asides about Palin flying into apoplectic rages when she can’t work out how to set the timer on her video player.

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Looking at Sarah Palin, it is hard to imagine a more terrifying political human. Her staggering simplery along with gasping vapidity is far too close to the nuclear codes for our liking. You’d be forgiven for thinking that things could only get worse if Glen Beck announced his intention to run for office.

Until that crushingly inevitable day occurs, we can look forward to another horror.

That’s right citizens of this failing planet! Bristol Palin fully intends to follow in her mother’s waddling political footsteps. This is the signal we’ve all been waiting for. The end is nigh. Kill yourselves now.

Bristol has announced, not in specific terms, that she’s prepared to destroy the Earth in the future after she said she would “probably” run for office one day, “but that would be further down the road.” A road littered with piles of cadavers and craters.

She says:

“If I saw something that needed to be changed, then I would step up to the plate and do something about it”

Already showing signs of being a charismatic leader, Bristol admitted in an interview that she has no friends in Arizona, and that she spends a lot of time rattling around her house talking to herself while mopping up the puke and piss of 2-year-old Tripp.

We mock, but we could all be calling Tripp the ‘Grand Poobah’ or something when he inherits the world from his batshit mental family.

On her road to ruling the planet, Bristol will first take a job at a radio station in Arizona, where she’ll try and forget about all that Dancing With The Stars nonsense.

“We are in the works with them. Just to see when and what the logistics and stuff of it but it would be a lot of fun.”

She’s also a little keener to talk about her new boyfriend who, obviously, is completely lacking in every single sensory organ. He’s called Gino.

“He’s a good guy. He’s a family guy. He’s a Christian. We have all the same religious beliefs and our families both come first in our lives, and we just have a lot in common…He loves Tripp and he’s just awesome to be around.”

Fuck. Another Christian. They’re worse than the Scientology lot. Until our planet is crushed like a beer can, we can at least look forward to Bristol Palin’s new book. We’re already assuming it’ll be her mandate for the future of mankind.

Cooperate or be killed. Hey! Bristol! You should use that as the title for it!

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Over the past ten years or so, the world has been flooded with countless pointless memoirs and autobiographies. You’ll be able to read Justin Bieber’s soon, which will no doubt say “I was born three seconds ago and I sang some songs and can’t work out how to undo Selena Gomez’s bra, The End.’

And now, we’re due another utterly pointless document in the shape of a memoir from Bristol Palin. She’s hardly known for being a raconteur is she?

This isn’t plain ol’ hearsay either. Bristol’s memoir is already showing up on Amazon.com. We are, presumably, supposed to be thrilled at the prospect of reading about someone with a simpleton mother, teenage pregnancy and how hard it is wobbling around like a giraffe on a see-saw on ‘Dancing With the Stars’.

Unfathomably, this book (currently called ‘Untitled Bristol Palin Memoir’, which for the record, we think the publishers should keep as a title), is 304-pages long! It’s either filled with padding or the book uses an amazingly large typeface. Maybe it utilises the whole ‘one letter per page’ thing?

The book is set for a June 21st release, which is thrilling news for fans of people who like non-events on June 21st.Perhaps it’s your birthday on that date? This book will, guaranteed, not upstage you

Bristol’s memoir will, of course, be published by William Morrow & Co. (a leg of HarperCollins) who published Sarah Palin’s ‘Going Rouge: An American Life’ and ‘America by Heart : Reflections on Family, Faith, and Flag.’ Both of those were translated from crayon into proper print.

Recently, Bristol has been all coy about her new love interest (probably at his behest for fear of everyone ripping the shit out of him for the rest of his life) and has moved away from Alaska to Arizona. Does Bristol only live in places that begin with ‘A’? Is she going to eventually live in Alabama? Or… er… Aowa? Or Ayoming? Anusota?

Perhaps she could clear that up for us in her memoir or, y’know, write a joke for us about things beginning with ‘A’ that isn’t quite so clunky. And rubbish.

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The Palin family are just great aren’t they? In Sarah Palin, we have a woman who doesn’t know a single thing about the world outside of Alaska (she probably thinks Mary Poppins is a gritty documentary about England) and in Bristol, we’ve got a gal who has the cold, dead stare of someone who has witnessed the unspeakable.

Of course, she used to date the most hilarious man in America – Levi Johnston – a man made entirely of satire. He got her pregnant, then promptly went about slagging off anyone with the surname Palin. That probably includes Michael Palin.

Anyway, after being rubbish at dancing on television, Bristol has been looking for love or something. And apparently, she’s found it in the most likely of places – The Alaskan pipeline!

Bristol, was recently asked by the jocks of the Bob & Mark Show if she was seeing a 20-year-old Alaska pipeline worker. She probably spends a lot of time around the pipeline with her mum, straddling it while stroking a gleaming gun, waiting for any pesky Russians who might come along and try to divert all that lovely oil to… oh we dunno… filthy communists and terrorists!

Bristol says about her lovelife:

“I’m seeing a guy and he’s really great and Tripp loves him and we’re having a really good time and we’re really good friends”

“Yeah, we can go with that. I’m thrilled. I love the town that I live in. I love my house. Tripp’s happy; he’s healthy. It was cool. It made Dancing with the Stars worth it, for sure.”

What? Is she saying that this new bloke of hers is ‘healthy’ and that he only tapped her ass because she was on Dancing With The Stars?

Jesus wept… she’s not a fussy girl is she?

Bristol also decided to let everyone know that she’s changed Tripp’s last name to Palin. Although, she’s not done it legally because expert satirist Levi is rather reluctant to do so.

She explains:

“Yeah, I’ve asked Levi to do it many different times, just get it out of the way, just sign over his parental rights, but I don’t know if he will or if he wants to right now. I’ve asked him to do that many times – just say, ‘Hey, look, let’s just avoid this custody case that’s been ongoing since Tripp was born just get it over with just sign over your rights. He’s always going to be your son, you can see him whenever you want to,’ but he just doesn’t want to sign him over because it looks bad on paper. Since Dancing With the Stars he’s seen him, at the most, three times. It’s like four hours I think. It’s unfortunate for Tripp.”

That’s the way things work in Palinland. ‘Just sign over your parental rights’ and everything will be tickety boo for everyone, okay? No seriously. It won’t stop you from seeing your child. There’s no accounting for what my mental mother might do once that happens, but y’know, there’s no beef here!

Head. On. Desk.

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If Sarah Palin wasn’t a politician, she’d be hilarious. Think about it. She’s a gun-toting, slackjawed moose-for-brains who garbles her words and thinks that it is totally okay to use gun-targets in association with her political rivals.

Had she been the invention of a satirist, you’d laugh like a drain at each dunderheaded move she made.

Sadly, she’s horribly real and has gone about invigorating the kind of American that makes the rest of the world wince with discomfort. And no-one has ever seen her blink, even when she said that outrageous ‘death panel’ comment.

And why is Palin so terrifying? Well, for a start, she allows her belief in Jesus to oppose abortion including some cases of rape and incest, while being totally cool with being a life-member of the NRA, which means she can shoot living things if she wants, as long as they’re not growing inside a sac.

She also doesn’t want gays to get married. We can only assume that she’s opposed to same-sex unions because their celebrations of the event will be more fabulous than a thousand series of ‘Sarah Palin’s Alaska’.

So it goes, that Sarah Palin’s TV show is to be cancelled much to the chagrin of all those television critics who enjoying giving it a kicking every time it was transmitted.

That’s right fool-fans, there are no plans to record footage of Palin shooting a moose in the face with a gun any more. Shame. Those moose kids really love it when someone captures their ‘best side’ being blown clean off by a hooraying simpleton with a penchant for rolling big words around her mouth like a cat flicking at an ulcer with its tongue.

Sadly, this means that Palin will probably be running for office now. So instead of watching Eskimo bingo, we’re going to have to endure her talking about her North Korean allies and her self-proclaimed likeness to Shakespeare.

Brilliant. We’re all doomed. Where do we sign-up for one of these death panel things we’ve been told about?

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Look into Sarah Palin’s eyes. What do you see? Your own reflection probably, because she wears glasses. However, hoik those specs clean off her head and you’ll see a faint glimpse of life in those cold, dead eyes.

That’s because Palin is a cold-blooded killer. Now, we’re not suggesting that Palin went postal over the weekend, opening fire on a mall full of people, but rather, she likes killing animals despite the fact she has enough money in the bank to, y’know, buy food from a shop.

Alas, Sarah Palin wants to win the hearts and minds of Americans by showcasing her feral side, which could well mean that we’ll see her dragging herself along some grass on her posterior or marking her territory by pissing on as many trees as possible.

In her ‘reality’ show, Palin has decided that it is perfectly okay for her to prowl around the countryside of Alaska with a great big fuck-off gun and shoot lead into the bloodstream of caribou who were minding their own business, crapping on hillsides and endlessly chewing things over and over again.

While out hunting with her father, the Palins yelled that things were getting desperate. They were down to “five packages of moose and three of caribou” meat! WHAT TO DO?! Go to the shop and buy some more meat? Take a trip to the drive-thru for a burger or two?

No. That’s a stupid idea. Why not go and kill some pesky varmints?

Says Palin, pretending that she isn’t an incredibly wealthy woman:

“That rifle in your hand can mean food on your table.”

Jesus wept. She’ll be posing with artillery in her bikini next, sporting a hat made out of a wolf’s face. There’s Tea Baggers out there who have probably seen this image already, when they furiously jerk off with shame in the dead of night.

Naturally, it is Palin’s ability to kill animals who can’t shoot back (that’s not to say they weren’t offered guns, but rather, they don’t have the required digits at the end of their legs to pull a trigger. That’s why Americans don’t hunt monkeys) that gives her an innate belief in herself.

“This is what has given me a desire to be tough and independent.”

What about her daughter though? She was all independent when she went off and had sex with someone out of wedlock. Did Sarah whip out a metaphorical shotgun so Bristol got married, in an attempt to keep her presidential hopes on the rails?

Seeing as Palin is in the opposition, she could well be looking at her prancing offspring as the reason for her failure… as opposed to a frankly baffling approach to the English language and a gaspingly dreadful grasp of foreign affairs. As such, Sarah Palin has been accused of forcing Bristol to do Dancing With the Stars because she owed momma one.

That’s what Margaret Cho is saying any way.

Cho blogged:

“Sarah supposedly blames Bristol harshly and openly…for not winning the election, and so she told Bristol she ‘owed’ it to her to do DWTS so that ‘America would fall in love with her again’ and make it possible for Sarah Palin to run in 2012…”

And what does Bristol have to say on the matter?

“I will give my friend credit for creativity, and extra points for getting so many ‘facts’ wrong in so few sentences.”

She could be talking about her own mother there, couldn’t she? Still, at least the Palin’s are all really good aims with a rifle. That’s a skill that everyone needs in this world don’t they?

If you’re mental.

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Poor old Bristol Palin, she’s got a shotgun wielding nutcase of a mother, had a child with a man who has neck so red that it can’t be seen by the naked eye and, unbelievably, she failed to win some shoddy yank spin-off of Strictly Come Dancing.

In what can only be seen as an attempt to desperately claw back some semblance of dignity, dear sweet Brizzle has appeared in a Public Service Announcement for safe sex, alongside none other than Mike, “The Situation,” Sorrentino.

Yes, you did read that correctly, Bristol Palin is promoting safe sex with a man who is named after his own abdomen.

Rather predictably the word situation features heavily in the clip, and not just because the Jersey Shore star tosspot has an IQ that only allows him to repeat the words, “the situation,” over and over again whilst dribbling and staring far off into the distance.

Our intrepid heroes are seen backstage at Dancing With the Stars, talking about how they like to avoid situations whilst having situations because that situation could lead to another situation in which a final, drastically life altering, situation crops up, thereby ruining said original situation.

Get it? Neither do we.

BUT WAIT! That’s not even the most bizarre part of this travesty in the name of public service.

During the PSA we are subjected to the Situation (the numbskull with the flat stomach, not the overall circumstance Palin and Sorrentino find themselves in) trying to get his hands on Bristol’s bristols, only to be told that Palin likes to avoid those situations, because she’s all about the abs…tinence. DO YOU SEE WHAT THEY DID THERE!?

HAHAHAHAHA!

The more current affairs savvy amongst you will have noticed that this PSA went viral just before the Pope announced that he wasn’t as against condoms as he was last week. It’s hard to say whether Palin and Sorrentino had anything to do with the Vatican’s decision to change its stance, but we here at hecklerspray like to think that the his holiness the Pope wears a What Would the Situation Do? wristband as he struts around Vatican City, with his slicked back hair hidden under his Papal headgear.

For those of you who haven’t seen it yet, here is the B-Palin/Situation Safe Sex PSA in all its farcical glory.

Jesus Wept.

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There’s been mutterings over the pond that Dancing With The Stars has been a bit skewed this year. Why? Well, Bristol ‘My Mom Is Sarah Palin And I Have A Hilarious Ex Boyfriend’ Palin found herself in the final three, despite having the dancing prowess of a kitchen work surface.

It seems that the Tea Baggers (really, someone should tell those narrow-minded chumps the alternative meaning for that) have been voting in droves to perhaps soften the image of the gobbledegook nattering, gun wielding simpleton, Sarah Palin, who is probably going to be the next US president.

However, there is room for hope. That’s because, despite the efforts of the slackjawed xenophobes, Bristol Palin didn’t win Dancing With The Stars. Jennifer Grey and Derek Hough did. You probably don’t recognise her from Dirty Dancing because she looks like a completely different human.

In fact, Bristol Palin didn’t even come second in the show. Someone we’ve never heard of got that gong. In fact, things must have been bad for the show as Jennifer Grey managed to out-dance everyone else whilst having a slipped disc in her back or something. Maybe the cha-cha-cha includes a move where you grip your back constantly and grimace with pain?

Still, it’s totally worth winning a dancing contest, even if it does mean you’ll never walk properly again.

In the show, third-place loser Bristol announced that winning the programme would be like “a big middle finger to all the people out there who hate my mom and hate me.”

So that’s one thing cleared up. Everyone seemingly DOES hate the Palins. Maybe the whole ‘getting her to the final and then snatching the trophy away from her just as she started to get her hopes up’ was a massive ruse on the part of the American public. If so, hecklerspray commends you and will get the next flight available to give every single one of you a hearty pat on the back.

As Sarah Palin goes off on a book tour, where simpletons can be found chanting “Go Sarah! Go Sarah!” like they’re on the Jerry Springer Show (lets face it, both crowds are from a very similar place) and continues with her cod-reality show which essentially sees her being an action figure come to life (replace that with ‘fuck-doll’ if you prefer) for right wing America (the kind of people who like to ban Sharia Law in States that has absolutely no intention of getting Sharia Law in the first place. A bit like someone allergic to diary proudly announcing that they’re giving up sucking the milk from cow’s teats), Bristol could well be called upon to dance around like a performing monkey, just in case her mother makes up another stupid word or gets asked any tricky questions about, y’know, politics.

Maybe we’re watching America develop sarcasm in front of our very eyes, dangling the presidency before Palin before voting for someone else?

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If Pamela Anderson says something is horrifying, then you’re advised to believe her. Why? Well, here we have a woman who has had sex with some of the ugliest humans alive (Kid Rock, Tommy Lee and Brett Michaels) and worked for a prolonged period with David Hasselhoff.

And so, when she’s not appearing in panto with a bunch of no-marks in Britain, she’s off to Israel to push a political agenda. That sounds sensible doesn’t it? We all know damn well that this part of the country is not the most stable in terms of politics.

Still, at least she’s getting paid loads of money to prance around while she competes in Israel’s version of Dancing with the Stars.

Pammy is going to push her views on people who probably haven’t asked for them in the name of fur. That’s right, Anderson – who is honorary director of People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) – is off to Israel to speak about the issue of fur to religious leaders.

She says:

“There are so many alternatives to things.”

“We can be compassionate in our choices.”

Of course, there are some who argue that alternatives to fur are actually very bad for the Earth as they sit in landfills refusing to biodegrade like plastic bags and that the children who work in sweathouses to make fake-fur jackets are treated very badly indeed.

But y’know… cutesy wutesy animals die with fur, so pick the ones you like least, reader. Or, wear nothing. All the time. Like a flasher.

Anderson said she hopes she can inspire a movement on an antifur bill that has been put on hold in Israel over worries that ultra-Orthodox leaders could kick up a massive stink. If you didn’t know, there’s a big trade of fur in Israel because of a penchant for fur hats worn by some men from Hassidic sects on holidays and other festive occasions.

She can only hope that the Orthodox types in Israel don’t make up the majority of the phone-in voters for Dancing With The Stars or her message will be short and sweet.

We wonder if the Israeli equivalent to Craig Revel Horwood is such a wind-up merchant that he’ll appear on every show dressed entirely in clothes made from the faces of every beast from the animal kingdom.

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Michael Bolton once murdered some soul classics. Have you heard the abject horror of his version of ‘When A Man Loves A Woman’? Have you endured his butchering of Sitting On The Dock Of The Bay?

Well, it seems that, apart from being America’s answer to Simply Red (which effectively means making the most godawful blue-eyed soul imaginable, coupled with the most woeful of haircuts for years), he’s also able to destroy rhythm itself.

Yes indeed, Bolton’s slot on Dancing With The Stars saw him plodding around like a hostage that has only just recovered from a hobbling, which saw judge Bruno Tonioli hooting in his face.

Of course, Michael Bolton is famous and, with that, he feels like he’s constantly owed something by the world. So when Bruno slated his rubbish dancing, Bolton’s nose went so far out of joint that he began to resemble a half chewed parsnip.

Tonioli branded Michael Bolton’s Hound Dog-themed jive as “probably the worst” in the show’s history.

Now, the dance was appalling. Bolton looked like a Scooby-Doo mummy, pawing and lurching in the dark trying to catch those meddling kids. And the whole world could see it. He was dreadful. It didn’t start well when he practised with a surgical mask on, only to later appear on all fours, crawling out of a kennel.

Rightly, Michael was later eliminated from the competition, but wasn’t happy about the way it came about. He told Good Morning America:

“I was disappointed with Bruno – to me, he let everybody down. My mum was there, she flew in, she’s 90.”

He added:

“I just didn’t expect that level of disrespect from him. Even (fellow judge) Len (Goodman) stopped him and said, ‘That’s inappropriate’. I think he should apologise publicly and he should be reprimanded for it.”

Reprimanded? So Bruno is hastily backtracking now in a bid to save his job?

Not likely.

Bruno says:

“He’s a fantastic singer, he’s a wonderful person, it’s nothing personal. I’m here to call it as I see it.”

And, of course, be resident panto dame who hams it up at the first sign of anyone giving you the slightest sliver of attention. That’s television for you.

The show’s producers said in a reported statement:

“While we respect the feelings of our celebrities and dancers, we don’t feel Bruno should be expected to apologise for doing his job. Bruno’s role as a judge is to give his honest opinions on the quality of the dances he’s judging, which is what he did in this case.”

So there you have it. Dancing With The Stars have officially given us the all-clear to slag off Michael Bolton and liken him to dog shit.

Great.

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