Ladies and gentleman, a modern day miracle has occurred, Holly Willoughby has been cured of her fear of ghosts, much to the delight of Phillip Schofield’s long dead career.

Willoughby, also affectionately known as the Willobooby, suffered from Spectrophobia (which it turns out is a genuine phobia and not a bad 70s sci fi series) so badly that she was once reduced to tears on the set of This Morning after a segment about ghostly apparitions.

Wooooooooooooo! *rattles chains*

So when the mighty miracle working Speakeman family rolled into town to show off their phobia curing skills Holly thought it might be best to get her phobia of imaginary apparitions cured on company time, because TV is all about the perks.

According to the site we nicked this story from, Willoughby said:

It’s witchcraft, I swear! The only way I can describe it is you almost can’t believe that you don’t have that fear anymore, because your body is so in the habit of making you look for ghostly things or almost testing you… just in case there’s something out there. So you test yourself and put yourself in these frightening situations.

There is something to be said for Holly choosing to tackle her paranormal fears head on, bravery like this is rarely seen nowadays, previously an admission of belief in the paranormal was left to the simple and the insane, as we saw in the cases of Danny, “I believe in UFOs,” Dyer and David, “the Lizard people are out to get me,” Icke respectively.

But we here at hecklerspray can’t help but wonder what these frightening situations Willoughby talks about are.

Standing next to Schofield, a man who had his hand up a gopher’s rear end for several years must be a bit off putting, but we’d hardly call it frightening. Does she just stand in the dark looking in a mirror and saying Bloody Mary twice before screaming and hiding under her duvet?

Nah, it must just be having to look at Fearne Cotton so often that she thinks is a frightening situation. It must be like looking into the eyes of Skeletor after a particularly banging Kooks gig.

That’s enough to freak anyone out.

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

Despite the fact that Amanda Holden should technically be reclassified as an android after the mixture of human tissue to plastic, polymers, artificial tear ducts and assorted car engine parts  dipped below 50% in 2010, the Britain’s Got Talent judge has announced that she is six months pregnant.

More than this, because she is so far gone, she as revealed that it is a *spoiler alert* human baby that she’s planning to give birth to.

Oh, and it’s apparently a boy. Or, conceivably, a very convincing example of a synchronous hermaphrodite, which will surely brighten up the birth no end.

The arrival of a baby is always a joyful occurrence in a couple’s life – not that we need reminding at this time of year of course, Alastair Cook’s birthday on the 25^th of December was heralded with as much excitement and gusto in my house as anywhere in the land, but unfortunately, it doesn’t look like this announcement will be heralded with as much joy as that anniversary.

Not because the parents aren’t all happy and all, but that it seems as though despite the fact that she is as the stage where most pregnant mothers to be need to take several deeps breaths from climbing stairs and need to piss with the regularity of an elderly man who has had a lifetime of being punched in the kidneys for fun and profit, she is still fulfilling her duties on Britain’s Got Talent and in the Shrek musical. Now Magazine over excited itself and bellowed:

The Britain’s Got Talent judge, 39, who is married to Chris Hughes, has only 3 months to go before her new baby arrives. ‘Just to let you know. I am 6 months pregnant with a baby boy!! Have had to keep it quiet until now! I’m still doing BGT and Shrek The Musical!!!’ she announced on Twitter.

So there’s no let up for fans of eerily blank faced, expressionless robots, who despite being technically ‘human’ still manage to cross over into the ‘uncanny valley’ like Tom Hanks in that animated film about a magic train that never got stuck in the snow (we’re guessing it was something like that as we don’t have money to splash out on dire looking Christmas films. Not when we’ve found out that we can get pretty much Danny Dyer’s entire back catalogue through pay-per-view cable that is).

So we still get to see the bizarre sight of what is effectively a shop window dummy weeping at every available occasion as a succession of deluded pub drunks parade their increasingly barrel scraping talents in front of her.

Having said that, it’s probably the fact that she has had all that Botox that has meant that she has been able to keep working for six months into a pregnancy without anyone noticing that she has a bun in the oven. All that Botox probably means that it’s not only her face that it stationary, but her entire lower body, which means that the poor little chap is trapped in something like a fleshy version of a Japanese capsule hotel.

On the plus side though, at the actual birth, it’ll be like watching someone trying to squash a child’s head though a kitchen spaghetti measurer.

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

“Knees up Mother Brown! Pass the dog and bone whilst I pop up the old apple and pears!” This is how a typical person from London talks and we have no clearer example of this than Grade A bell-end and all round East End geezah, Danny Dyer.

As a proper Cockerney hardnut, Danny is the American equivalent of Steven Seagal who somehow gets away with making terrible films again and again.

We all know him from top quality cinema flicks such as erm… and urm… where he points his finger at some muppets, swears repeatedly and dishes out the pain. Recently, Danny Dyer was most known for his horrific ghost written colums where he advocated violence to women. Apart from that, we thought he disappeared in to the hole he came from and died peacefully.

Now we don’t know if he has another film coming out, nor do we care but he’s had the brainpower to jumble some words together and slag off Vinnie Jones, footballer gone movie star.

Football fans will know all about Vinnie Jones. As a member of Wimbledon’s ‘Crazy Gang’ before they went bankrupt and turned in to a comedy outfit, he played with some of the greatest players of the game. Strangely, the thing he is remembered for is when his hand took control of Paul Gascoigne’s ballsack and crunched them to dust.

We doubt Gazza offered him a tin of lager, a dressing gown, a chicken and a fishing rod afterwards. We doubt he can remember the event at all presently.

Anyway, when footballers finish playing the beautiful game, they either go in to management, coaching or talking shite on highlight shows like Jamie Redknapp. On the other hand, Vinnie Jones, turned his hand to movies and made a couple of decent flicks when it came to films such as Lock Stock and Snatch. Perhaps Danny Dyer is jealous he wasn’t asked or has come to realise he wouldn’t take as good a role as Vinnie Jones.

Through his cockney babblings, we were able to get a translator in and see what Danny Dyer was going on about. It turns out he was bitching about Mean Machine, a film they both worked on in 2001. That’s right, a film which is bloody nine years old and as culturally important as 56k internet dial up.

Dyer said Vinnie Jones, his fellow co-star:

“His lack of acting nous really showed on that film. There’s a real poignant moment where he explains to these other prisoners how he’s facked up his life. You read the script and he’s meant to cry. When he came to do it, I wanted to put my head in my pocket. It was abysmal. He looked more like he was going to take a shit.

“The one thing I loved about doing the film was seeing the fear in his eyes whenever we had a scene together. He just could not keep up with the pace. I could see him struggling. He’d be waiting for his cue thinking, ‘Oh, now I speak’ and I’d fack about, wait a little bit, do something a bit odd, a bit left field, chuck that in the fackin’ mix.”

Clearly Danny Dyer might have been suffering with a spot of potty mouth and needs his mouth washing out with soap, or a general beating, in order to get him to shut his pie hole. We’re sure Vinnie Jones could easily live on the cash he made as a footballer and is riding out the movie lifestyle until someone realises he ain’t no Johnny Depp.

Saying that, we’d happily pay £5 to see Vinnie Jones fight Danny Dyer on a football pitch, it would be great value for money as we’d be in and out the stadium in five minutes as Danny’s ballbag is crushed like a grape that’s been stepped on by a particularly large elephant.

Follow hecklerspray on Twitter or join our Facebook group

Danny Dyer is brilliant. And by brilliant, we mean astonishing. And by astonishing, we mean crashingly woeful. It’s amazing really. Once he was just a rubbish wide-boy actor and then, mystifyingly, people started to hire him ‘As Himself’.

As such, we were greeted to a series of documentary shows that showed Dyer to be the vapid ‘ave a word wiv yoursewff tagnut that he is. More mind melting was his advice to cut a woman’s face in his dribblings in some dismal lad’s rag.

Sadly, it doesn’t end there as Sky have announced that they’ll be making a show that, quite possibly, defies all expectations of Dyer. Basically, it could be TV so bad that even the most cynical miserablist couldn’t even dream it up. Ladies and gentlemen, Sky 1 will be sending Danny Dyer to the Middle East in a show called ‘A Geezer In Gaza’.

Have you composed yourself yet. Yes, you’re absolutely correct in thinking that you’ve just read about Danny Dyer being sent to the Gaza Strip.

The show is made by the same tits who brought us ‘Ross Kemp on Gangs’. Hilariously, the people concerned have left Tiger Aspect who you may have seen at the end of various shows and started up their own company called Propa Productions.

They just left out the ‘nawty’.

Apparently, this show will see our boob-brained barrow bell-end “thrown into the middle of the conflict” to see if he can explain “the problems on both sides” as well as explaining to viewers “just what is going on in this dangerous and complex part of the world.”

It’s fair to assume that explanations will revolve around razor sharp insight like:

“Fackin’ ell. These boys are propa tooled up. They ain’t ‘avin a giraffe ‘ere. Fack me. If the terrorist boys fack abaht wiv this lot, fack me, it’s gonna be on top!”

Marcus Holmes, Head of Programming at Propa Productions, says this of the project;

“I believe that Propa Productions has developed a unique programme and by choosing to work with the robust approach of Danny Dyer, we can really help to give the viewer a sense of the scale of the issues that the region is currently experiencing. Danny Dyer is extremely popular in the UK and because of this we immediately leapt at the chance to get him on board.”

Dyer, actor and conveyor belt for stupid, said:

“Due to my work being very popular in this region I hope that with my profile I can help to bring the two sides together and end this mess once and for all. I’m not saying I’m the answer but, if I have to, I’ll bang a few heads together to get things done!”

Pardon. Bang a few heads together? Have we entered some bizarre dream state? Is that a shower of locusts we see bouncing outside our window?

Sky1 HD controller Stuart Murphy said:

“We’ve always tried to push the limits with our documentaries and as we have seen in the past, celebrities can offer the viewer an intelligent and thought provoking angle that the news reports don’t always get across. We hope the everyman touch that Danny can bring will help to see the conflict in a new light.”

Hecklerspray says:

“Clearly this is all one massive, massive lie. We could probably find out easily enough but we’d rather spend our time calling Danny Dyer names in print.”

Follow hecklerspray on Twitter or join our Facebook group

Danny Dyer is amazing. It doesn’t matter what he does, the poor sausage always manages to do it wrong.

He had an advice column. That went wrong. He had a promising film career. That went wrong. He had a believable cockney accent. That went spectacularly wrong, to the extent that when Danny Dyer now talks he sounds like a troubling cross between Sylvester Stallone, Dick Van Dyke and a violent brain haemorrhage. And now Danny Dyer drives cars.

That’s gone wrong too. Danny Dyer, you see, doesn’t have a driving license. And that mean that he’s liable to plough into other cars, or buildings, or simply fall asleep at the… oh, hang on, no, that’s George Michael we’re thinking of. Ever so sorry.

To be fair to Danny Dyer, driving around in a car that he has no license for ranks pretty low on the list of Stupid Things That Danny Dyer Has Done. It’s not quite hiding in a CCTV-filled nightclub car park to snort a mysterious white powder. It’s not using an advise column in a nationally-distributed magazine to advocate the act of cutting your girlfriend’s face with a razor. And it’s definitely not any film that Danny Dyer has ever made. But, make no mistake, it’s still quite stupid. The Sun reports:

Danny Dyer flouts the law by driving a flashy motor – even though he has never passed his test. We caught Dyer, 32, repeatedly getting behind the wheel of a Porsche Cayenne 4X4. One day he drove alone on a motorway on a 23-mile trip to a gym from his home in Loughton, Essex. The next day he again went out without a qualified driver to accompany him – for an hour.

And if that’s not bad enough, The Sun also reports that Danny Dyer also drove a woman and some children to Epping Forest, where they went for a bit of a walk. This may be the single most sickening piece of news that we’ve ever heard. Danny Dyer should be bloody well locked up.

Obviously, though, you can understand why Danny Dyer never bothered to pass his driving test. The theory test would have stumped him silly. Take this question, for instance:

Someone is standing on the pavement waiting to cross a zebra crossing. You should:

a) Drive past before they can step onto the crossing

b) Stop before the zigzag lines and let the person cross

c) Stop and let the person cross the road

d) Ignore the person because there is no entitlement to cross until they step on the crossing.

By the time Danny Dyer had managed to scrawl “E) shout ‘oi you proper fucking muppet mug’ at the geezer and then cut his girlfriend’s face so she learns her lesson” underneath it, the time would be up. Who’d want to put him through something like that?

Follow hecklerspray on Twitter

Alwight?

You might have ‘eard about me, Danny Dyer*, ‘avin’ a dust-up with Twat magazine last week ’cause of that palaver where I said summink about striping some bird’s boat race an’ that. Well, ‘cause of that, they told me to sling me ‘ook.

Thankfully, those diamond geezers at some website called ‘ecklerspray ‘ave decided to snap me up for me own agony uncle section, called ‘Dear Danny’. Which is ‘andy, ‘cause none of the other mags were interested. I asked ‘em all: Tits, Piss, Jizz, Balls, Spunk, Shit, Toss, Wank and The Radio Times. No one wanted ol’ Danny.

I don’t spend all my free time poncing about on the internet like you poofs, so I’d never even ‘eard of ‘ecklerspray. Now I aint a mug, so I went round me mate Gary’s drum, fired up his laptop and ‘ad a quick butcher’s at the site.  Now I’m no expert, but I reckon it looks sound. Not a lot o’ minge or motahs like, but I thought, since they’re paying me half a monkey and a dozen voles, I’ll ‘ave some of it.

So let’s ‘ave some now shall we?

Luvvly!

Dear Danny,

I’m 23, not a bad-looking bloke with a decent job, but I broke up with my missus a few months ago and can’t get over her. She seems to be doing fine. Any advice?

Alex, Manchester

Danny says: You’ve got nothin’ to worry about, son. I’d suggest going out for a nice meal at a local restaurant with your family, taking up tennis and perhaps trying a dating website. And then when some bird falls for you, you can buy ‘er a necklace.

Of course, the other option is to cut down on thinking about your ex quite so much.

Or, for a monkey, me and Gary’ll go round ‘er manor, strangle her, cut off ‘er ‘ands and feet, smash out her teeth and burn her in Epping Forest. We can’t do next week though, we’re ‘avin’ it in Kavos.

Lemme know.

Dear Danny,

Do you believe that Rene Descartes was right about his theory of epistemology and the origins of knowledge when he said that most ideas are innate in man’s intellect?

Trevor, Norwich

Blaaaady ‘ell, Trev! Well, I reckon that if man had innate ideas, we’d be conscious of having them, wouldn’t we?. It’s an undeniable fact that children, savages, the unlearned, are not conscious of ‘avin’ innate ideas; they all acquire knowledge durin’ the course of a lifetime. It is impossible that anyone should have knowledge of something of which he is not conscious.

Furthermore, experience teaches that certain moral principles and the notion of God, far from being innate, vary with different people and at different times. ‘ence there exists no innate idea; our intellect, at the first moment of its being, is a tabula rasa, a clean sheet of paper on which nothing has yet been written.

Though saying that, since I was born, I’ve always been able to tell the size of a bird’s tits just by lookin’ at ‘em.

If you’ve got a question for Danny, leave it in the comments box.

See ya’ next week, ya’ mugs!

Not *the* Danny Dyer, obviously. Another one. Honest.

Follow hecklerspray on Twitter

This week’s cream and cheese.

Folded:

• Inception (we finally know what it’s about. Sounds a bit stupid, frankly, but will probably be amazing anyway)
• Salt and vinegar Pringles (once you’ve popped, you’re fat. Still, lifting the tubes is some exercise)
• Voting (did you? Too late now. Can’t complain when baseball caps are banned, etc)
• Clothes on Film is one year old (nearly four years behind the ‘spray and still with that new site smell)
• Staying after the credits (if you’ve made it through the film that is)

Creased:

• Danny Dyer (lovely bloke)
• Why you shouldn’t eat salt and vinegar Pringles (ruins everything, but we had to know)
• Not voting (is as stupid as those yoof TV programmes tell you. Unless you’re not from the UK, in which case carry on)
• Flashing LED on a BlackBerry (means you ain’t going to sleep yet)
• John Lewis Up advert (another reason not to shop there in addition to all the pseudo, middle class wannabe toffs that frequent the place)

Danny Dyer is our favourite actor, mostly because he seems genuinely confused between ‘pretending to be hard in a film’ and ‘real life’.

He probably imagines that when he’s out shopping, he can’t resist a cheeky Cockney smile before battering the butcher with his own cleaver, and coming out with an incomprehensible witticism.

Implausibly, Danny has turned his gangster hand away from guns, but towards his keyboard, to put together a weekly column for Zoo magazine, covering such important issues as ‘how many sausages should you have on a fry up?’ (at least four) and ‘If I was Prime Minister…’ (‘legalise cannabis’ and ‘castrate anyone caught noncing’.)

The bit that’s got everyone all in a twizzle though is his rubbish agony uncle column, ‘Ask Danny’…

We assumed all the letters to ‘Ask Danny’ were fictional until some plank actually admitted it was him writing in. And what did Alex from Manchester write in? He can’t get over his ex, even though they broke up months ago. Obviously the right answer is a drug-fuelled hooker binge, but Danny doesn’t see things like that. His response is a bit more… blunt:

Of course, the other option is to cut your ex’s face, and then no one will want her…

Well, why not? Might as well set fire to her fanny as well, so she can’t do anything if someone does want her. Oh wait, what’s this from Danny’s column earlier in the month?

Maybe set light to the muff hair. That stuff goes up quick, like a thatched roof.

Hmm. Danny seems to forget that Zoo’s readership is almost entirely made up of easily impressed 13-year-olds that are amazed by tits, cars and football. Or footy or kickyball or whatever they call it now, and not a cynical bunch of internet-hardened types that can understand that jokes go wrong.

Twitter went into a self-righteous hum of bothering Zoo’s editor and being outraged over the sheer stupidity of the column. Zoo quickly issued an apology:

Due to an extremely regrettable production error, an inappropriate and indefensible response to a letter has appeared in this week’s issue. ZOO editor, Tom Etherington, apologises unreservedly for any offence the response may have caused and has launched an internal enquiry to ensure lessons are learnt.

It’s a good job the production error didn’t lead to any of the magazine’s other features: ‘The Week in Boobs’ or ‘Camera Flash’ or ‘Red Hot Redheads’ or ‘Babe Election 2010′ or ‘Real Girl of the Year’ or ‘In Bed With…’ or ‘Your Sex Questions’ or ‘Crack the Rack’ (guess the size and if they’re real) or ‘Breast Friends’.

As for Danny himself:

I have been completely misquoted.

Propah nawty, geezah.

This was a guest blog by Nik Johnson from Shouting At Cows. Whoopee!

Follow hecklerspray on Twitter

You know Danny Dyer right? Yes, the man once dubbed by the Royal Shakespeare Company as ‘the best Hamlet since Olivier’ and praised for his deep, dark and gritty roles borne from Dyer’s unswerving dedication to method acting and delivering performances that Variety call ‘ethereal and devastating’.

Yeah. That Danny Dyer.

Of course, that’s all a bit glib because we all know that Dyer is a new breed of actor that goes to new depths every single time he appears on our screens. He’s invented a new zero-dimensional style of acting that effectively enables him to appear on-screen and act like himself, only ever varied up by the appearance of a cut on his lip or talking either ‘loudly’ or ‘slightly less loudly’.

And so, with opinion on the widest geezer in town at an all-time low, he’s got the sheer bloody nerve to slag someone else off for not being able to act. That’s a bit like a dog-shit criticising a rancid open sore for being too stinky. Dyer has set his phaser to ‘blah’ and Kelly Brook is in the crosshair.

Dyer, who once said that Orlando Bloom couldn’t act and that he genuinely thinks of as “a cunt” (more on that here), is reportedly unhappy at the prospect of working with Kelly Brook for a forthcoming movie.

You see, unfathomably, someone has deemed the pool of British acting talent shallow enough to cast the pair of them in the same flick. It just so happens to be a horror movie and it’s called Hotel Caledonia, just so you can give anything with a flickering screen a wide-berth around release date, just to be on the safe side.

Despite the fact that there hasn’t been a single frame shot for what promises to be a staggering waste of everyone’s time and money, Dyer is not a happy chappy.

Speaking about his future colleague in an interview with the Daily Star, Dyer is quoted as saying:

“She can’t act so I’m certainly not looking forward to working with her. She doesn’t do it for me and she never has done.

“She’s okay looking, she’s all right. But I wouldn’t call her that fucking fit. She honestly does nothing for me.

“And I definitely wouldn’t want to do a play with her. That’s the last thing you’ll see me do. I’d rather do a play with Shane Richie.”

It’s not all pointless news though. Dyer has admitted that the shooting for Hotel Caledonia may never begin as producers are finding it difficult to raise funds for the project.

“I was offered the part and said I wanted to do it. But it’s struggling with finance so I’m not sure if it’s definitely going ahead.

“My role in it is brilliant. I’ve got a part as a serial killer and I strip women’s skin from their bodies. It’s really dark.”

Jesus H. Shit. That sounds great doesn’t it? The answer you’re looking for is ‘No. Not at all. I’d rather strip the skin from mine own body, eat what I can take off and whatever I manage to pass as waste product before I die… the resultant mess will be a million times better, wittier and funnier than Hotel Caledonia’.

Follow hecklerspray on Twitter

Hey man, don’t sit around feeling all sorry for Madonna because she hasn’t got a boyfriend. That would be a massive waste of time.

Instead, peruse the list of potential suitors below, and decide which one you would consider a worthy follow-up to that pouting Jesus character who recently made a run for it.

Madonna, take your pick.

You’re welcome.

Danny Dyer

If we’ve picked up any clues from Madonna’s marriages, it’s that she likes her men to be slightly violent (Sean Penn), and a little bit cockney (Guy Ritchie). Of course, at this point most people would claim that Guy Ritchie just pretends to be an East End barrow boy, whilst he’s actually a pipe smoking posho. But we shan’t be doing that. Instead, might we suggest that Madonna gives Danny Dyer a go? He actually is a filthy cockney bugger, and something about the way he appears affected by all manner of physical jerks and random facial ticks suggests that were you to surprise him with a sneeze, his impulsive reaction would be to punch you in the throat. Madonna would definitely be drawn to that kind of danger.

Britney Spears

These two have unfinished business. Remember the kiss they did that time? The one where Justin Timberlake sat in the audience with steam coming out of his ears, and the planet actually jolted slightly off orbit because the whole of China hid an erection in unison? Yeah, that was some hot stuff right there. With both girls in the midst of what’s known in the trade as “having a bit of a moment”, it might be time to get naked – all except for their matching red Kabbalah bracelets – and do whatever it is that women in love do when there’s no man involved in the mix. Probably just touch tongues and compare nails, we suspect.

Willem Defoe

No matter how good the actors are, you can’t fake on-screen chemistry. You’ve either got it, or you don’t… got it. And, sweet baby Moses, Madonna and Willem Defoe had so much chemistry in Body of Evidence that they could probably have manufactured some kind of sulphuric explosion just by glancing at one another. Him with the gargoyle-face, her biting his nips, and smearing bubbling handfuls of wax into his underpants – it was steamy. Had that coffee shop lady from When Harry Met Sally been in the bedroom while they were doing it, she’d have asked the waiter for what Madonna was having, not Meg Ryan. That’s how sexy it was. Really really sexy.

Eminem

Back in the 1990s, Madonna famously opted to craft a coffee table book of nude shots, accompanied by hand written pornographic details about exactly how she likes her love making to pan out. One such photograph featured the hardcore street rapper Robert Van Winkle (aka Vanilla Ice) cupping one of her bosoms, and saying something presumed to be rather revolting in her ear. Unfortunately, Vanilla probably lacks the necessary profile to pick up where the pair left off, so perhaps she might settle for a modern day re-enactment with his rightful heir, Eminem? Alternatively, she could wile away the evenings reliving the shot where she pops on a nipple-less outfit and attempts to remove hot toffee from her finger without using her hands? Her choice.

Nick Jonas

Of course, Madonna could just continue the trend of stepping out with increasingly younger men, following 23-year-old Jesus with one of the Jonas Sisters – of whom we’d recommend 17-year-old Nick. He’s a good God-fearing young man, that one, and exactly the kind of quivering virgin needed to add an extra coil to the spring in Madonna’s step. Once his nervous shrieking and relentless praying for forgiveness becomes too much, she can move effortlessly on, safe in the knowledge that at least one teenager will never again be able to hear the opening to Like a Virgin without immediately stress puking and falling into a temporary standing coma until it ends. Job done.

This was a guest blog by Josh Burt, whose Interestment comedy nights are quickly becoming the stuff of legend.

Follow hecklerspray on Twitter

Dire Danny Dyer has told the ever wonderful Zoo magazine that Orlando Bloom is a “cunt” who “can’t act” .

The famous idiom pot calling the kettle black springs to mind here. Although it’s more a case of the pot calling the kettle a cunt for being a pot.

It’s like Boris Johnson telling David Cameron he has a silly voice and stupid hair and feeling that his party’s views are “a little bit too conservative” for his liking.

Dyer, the moron star of immense twaddle such as Outlaw and The Business, gives the impression that he may just be the teeny weeniest little bit jealous of Orlando’s recent success.

“I do genuinely think Orlando Bloom is a cunt. I’ve never met him, but he’s in the same game as me and he’s loaded. I’m still living in the ghetto in East London and he’s earning three million quid a film. He got lucky. He came out of drama school and got Lord of the Rings.”

If we can just interject here for a moment: anyone who refers to East London as a ghetto without hint of irony or sarcasm is a dick. That is certified fact. No two ways about it. Dick.

We’re sure you would have been really very good in Lord of the Rings had Bloom not beaten you to it though. It may have gone a little something like this:

“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYY, we are the fellowship, we are the fellowship-ah! Fackin’ right in my son, Aragorn; give that Arwen one up the ring from me. Who’s wants a fackin’…..Oi! Frodo you cant, ‘ave you nicked my fackin’ rizla’s again?”

Dyer continued:

“He wasn’t all that good in it, but it put him on the map, didn’t it? He’s the opposite of me, he’s well media-trained and boring. Plus, he can’t act.”

Yeah. Yeah. Totally the opposite of you then. You’re just so bloody interesting and un-media trained, Dyer. How do you do it? Plus, you can act. You were really good in Skins as that man who did all those things in that place. And don’t even get us started on Severance. Melding comedy and horror together without including either genre in any way! Genius! It really worked.

Plus, this has put you on the map you big wanker. It may only be hecklerspray‘s map of cunts and you may only be the Britain to Bono‘s America on Planet Cunt, but it’s a map nonetheless.

Look, don’t get us wrong, we don’t rate Orlando Bloom’s acting either; we agree with you on that front, Dyer. We definitely do. It’s just that you happen to be a bigger cunt and an even more one-note actor, who, thanks to your ridiculously idiotic films and involvement with Zoo magazine, is contributing to the dumbing down of mainstream society. That’s all. No offense or anything. We’re sure you’re alright apart from that.

We would totally love to have a Stella with you and discuss football and listen to Oasis and look at some birds. We would love that. It’s just that we happen to be busy until the end of time. Or don’t want to, due to having a reasonable level of intellect. One of the two. We forget which.

Read more:

Dyer: ‘Orlando Bloom Can’t Act’ – Digital Spy