But, anyway, David Duchovny has feelings, and those feelings are easily hurt. For example, why do you think that David Duchovny hasn’t directed a movie since 2004’s House Of D? Because that movie was so hamfisted and borderline offensive that nobody dares let him behind a camera again? No, it’s because the critical reaction hurt his feelings. Probably.

Something else that hurts David Duchovny’s feelings is when people say he’s been having sex with people he hasn’t been having sex with. So when The Daily Mail claimed that David Duchovny had a full-blown sexual affair with his tennis coach, his feelings were hurt immeasurably. You couldn’t put a price on how hurt David Duchovny was. But if you had to, it’d be $1 million. And David wants that money now. Now. No, really. Now.

When it comes to David Duchovny, there are certain things that you can and can’t say about him. For instance, you can say that X-Files: I Want To Believe was such a disappointment that you’d be happy if he never worked again, or that his TV show Californication is so bad, largely because of his own doughy face, that just thinking of the word ‘Californication’ makes you want to pull your jaw out and smash it into your eyes now.

You can even say that – as a self-confessed sex addict – it seems as though David Duchovny is just a big greedy child who lacks the basic self-control to respect his wife, whether it’s by having sex with other women or just hammering his sweaty little mushroom into a stump in front of the internet until his lap ends up looking like like a large and unusually hairy glazed Krispy Kreme doughnut. We’re pretty sure you can say that.

But what you can’t say is that David Duchovny had an affair with his tennis coach Edit Pakay. The Daily Mail said that earlier this week, and now David Duchovny’s suing it for a million dollars. Fox News reports:

Duchovny filed a lawsuit in the Los Angeles Superior Court on Wednesday for defamation and invasion of privacy against The Daily Mail, seeking no less than $1 million in damages. On October 18 the well-known tabloid claimed that the “Californication” star was having a “full-blown sexual affair” with his tennis teacher Edit Pakey and that he had planned to leave his wife of 11 years to be with her.

Because David Duchovny apparently wasn’t having an affair with his tennis coach – who incidentally, it’s claimed, wasn’t even his tennis coach – the report caused him ’substantial harm’. A million dollars’ worth of harm, in fact.

For what it’s worth, we haven’t had sex with any tennis instructors recently either, so if there are any newspapers that would like to pay us a million dollars for that as well, we’d appreciate that. Just so everyone knows.

And, since David Duchovny is such a busy man, he’d leap at the chance to consolidate those two loves into one manageable love by having it off with his tennis instructor a lot, wouldn’t he? Well, apparently not – David Duchovny’s lawyer has denied reports that Duchovny had an affair with Edit Pakay, his tennis instructor.

True, David Duchovny still loves tennis and sex – but since his sex addiction treatment, the thought of meaningless sex with an athletic young woman fills him with repulsion. Now the only way that David Duchovny could combine tennis and sex is by hiring local street whores and challenging them to five-set matches, and that’s just impractical – we know from experience that those whores charge double for backhand lobs.

Tennis is sexy, isn’t it? All those short skirts, tight tops and orgasmic screams are a definite turn-on. In fact, tennis is so sexy to us that the only way we can perform these days is if there’s an elderly man in an excessively tall chair next to us loudly scoring our intercourse point by point. And a crowd of lonely housewifes occasionally shouting half-hearted encouragement at us. And we have to stop every time it rains. And a child has to run around collecting our stray balls.

But that’s just us. David Duchovny is not like that at all. Even though he used to be a sex addict, and would therefore hump a cactus if it was showing enough bra strap, David Duchovny has never linked sex and tennis. Especially now that he’s been cured of the sex addiction – now we assume that he’d rather launch a frenzied attack on his own genitals with a kitchen knife than actually let a semi-aroused thought cross his mind.

And that’s why David Duchovny has taken the unprecedented step of making his lawyer release a statement denying the current rumours that David Duchovny had a six-month affair with his tennis instructor Edit Pakay. People reports:

“The stories about an alleged affair between David Duchovny and his tennis instructor, Edit Pakay, are completely false. Ms. Pakay denied the rumors to me in person last Friday, saying they are just friends, and in addition, said in writing that such stories are ‘lies and deceit.”

We have no reason to assume that David Duchovny ever had an affair with his tennis instructor. Because, if we were David Duchovny’s tennis instructor, the last thing we’d do is let him shove his blistered, red-raw sweaty little acorn anywhere near our insides. That manky little man-flute could have been anywhere. Ugh.

So David Duchovny didn’t have an affair with his tennis instructor. That’s a shame – since David Duchovny and Tea Leoni have now split up, we’re sure it’d be nice for David to find some non-sexual companionship with a female sports instructor somewhere.

Maybe David Duchovny should take up curling. Seriously, we hear those people are slags.

Why? Because it’s been announced that sex addict David Duchovny and his wife Tea Leoni have separated, and have been separated for months. Phew! Now, when David Duchovny has you pushed into a corner with a hand down his knickers and a tongue that he’s trying to ram all the way inside your ear, you won’t have to think “Wait a minute, aren’t you married to the woman from Jurassic Park 3? What will she make of all this?”

This separation is obviously the best thing for all involved – David Duchovny gets to lead the free and easy single life that he craves, Tea Leoni won’t have to worry that her husband has strayed and their children will no longer fear stumbling across their father masturbating frantically to a coffee stain shaped a bit like a bra. Everyone’s a winner.

Women don’t appreciate anything, do they? Buy them underwear and they’ll tell you that crotchless PVC is actually quite uncomfortable. Buy them flowers and they’ll accuse you of knowing that they have a deadly pollen allergy. Go to sex addiction rehab to stop your uncontrollable feelings of arousal and they’ll leave you.

The latter is the exact scenario that David Duchovny finds himself in today. Either because he does nothing but wank all day or because he occasionally has extramarital sex, David Duchovny last month checked himself into sex addiction rehab to try and save his marriage. Did it work?

No. No it didn’t. Realising that even a cured sex addict is probably only one bumpy bus journey away from a disgusting globby relapse, Tea Leoni has done the sensible thing and ditched David Duchovny. A joint statement from the couple reads:

“In light of continuous speculation over the lives and marriage of Tea Leoni and David Duchovny, the couple has confirmed that they have in fact been separated for several months. The couple had hoped to keep this separation private for the sake of their children.”

Several months? At least now we know why David Duchovny might have gone to sex addiction rehab in the first place – we’re presuming that it was either as a last-ditch effort to win his estranged wife back, or it was because he was single and he realised that the best place to find a string of sexual partners with suitably low self-esteem was at a live-in sex addiction treatment clinic.

Either way, we maintain that this split is the best solution for everyone. David Duchovny can now act upon the raging mid-life crisis that he’s obviously in the throes of, and Tea Leoni can go and find a new man who’ll never put her through the same trauma. So a eunuch or something. We don’t really know how this works.

By the way, we should probably just clear one thing up. Given that David Duchovny went to sex addiction rehab at roughly the same time that his marriage imploded, you’d be forgiven for thinking that his sex addiction was the cause for the break-up of his marriage to Tea Leoni. It wasn’t.

Instead Tea Leoni left him because she thought The X-Files: I Want To Believe was crap. Well, you would too, wouldn’t you.

But relax, because now comes the news we’ve all been waiting for – David Duchovny has been cured of his sex addiction! According to a statement released yesterday, David Duchovny has left his sex addict rehab and is back functioning in society as a normal human being with a depressingly watery libido.

It still hasn’t been made clear what form David Duchovny’s sex addiction treatment took, but we hear that he’s had an implant fitted inside him that, whenever he feels a slight sensation of arousal, causes one of his testicles to inflate to the size of a bus, glow bright red and play I Wanna Sex You Up by Color Me Badd at ear-splitting volume. So he won’t be going to the swimming pool on Senior Aquarobics afternoon any time in a hurry, that’s for sure.

It’s easy to mock David Duchovny for his sex addiction, but that’s only because we don’t know the pain that a sex addiction can cause. Imagine it – a constant string of guilt-free casual sex with hundreds of willing young girls hypnotised by your fame and wealth. God, that sounds bloody terrible. If that was us we’d probably shoot our own face off.

And this living nightmare is precisely why David Duchovny sought treatment for his sex addiction. Well, that or because his wife either found him having sex with another woman or slapping his little acorn until it blistered to a fanny-coloured pixel-orgy on the internet.

Whatever the cause, David Duchovny has essentially given the world a mental image of his bright-red screwed-up face bearing down a couple of inches away from a girl’s face while his bottom pumps away at her like a horrible slappy flesh machine, and for that he owes us all a heavy debt.

But that’s all in the past. The old sweaty-nippled cock monster David Duchovny, the one who couldn’t pass a girl in the street without hammering his foot on the ground until steam came out of his ears, has been replaced by a new David Duchovny – one who may as well be a monk or something. Reuters reports:

In a statement on Monday, [Duchovny's attorney] Stanton said Duchovny “has successfully completed rehabilitation. He is out and will very soon begin work on his new movie,” Stanton said. Stein declined to say where the actor had been treated or when he left the center.

Phew. This is certainly good news for everyone involved. Duchovny’s wife Tea Leoni has reigned in her husband’s worst excesses, David Duchovny’s future co-stars can go to work knowing that they’ll never have their concentration broken by the sight of a middle-aged man trying to hammer his erect penis through the letterbox in their trailer, and – best of all – David Duchovny gets to transfer his addictive personality onto something less harmful, like heroin or infanticide.

God knows where this leaves Californication, though. Surely starring in a TV show about a renowned sex addict will only hinder David Duchovny’s continued recovery. Maybe David should think about making a new show that better reflects his current situation – maybe, say, one about a frustrated writer who can’t walk down the street without everyone around him collapsing in fits of laughter because he can’t control his funny little todger.

With the help of his strangely attractive assistant Scully, they often found themselves in all sorts of situations where trees ate traffic lights and dolls controlled entire villages.

Once the show ended, the duo failed to appear in any sort of credible TV show. Gillian Anderson even lowered herself to star in a film with cockney bellend Danny Dyer. But David Duchovny literally dropped off the radar altogether. He hadn’t died, though; instead he turned all his attention to having lots of sex. So much that he is now officially addicted to it. Instead of placing a thin line of cement over his spitting cobra, he decided that rehab was a better option to solve his problem. And now it turns out that ‘rehab’ at least partially involves reading Russell Brand’s book.

It’s never quite clear how being addicted to all things sexual affects a person. While most people enjoy the odd hump with a partner now and then, we can only assume that David Duchovny likes to go at it until his winky gets red raw and starts spraying out blood. Still, more power to him for fighting through the pain barrier.

You’d have thought that because David Duchovny is a famous person, he would have turned to either a major religion or Scientology for help. Surely a friendly Catholic nun could have taught him some new ways to stop him blowing his load. Just be glad he didn’t ask any Catholic priests about solving his problem, because they could have only made the situation worse.

Oddly enough Duchovny has turned to Russell Brand’s oddly written and appallingly-titled autobiography My Booky Wook for guidance and solutions on how to stop becoming aroused at the faintest sight of boob. Russell Brand is thankfully in foreign shores at the moment to promote himself and break into the lucrative American market.

Brand is doing a sterling job at it so far, since he recently got to star in an advert with something everyone dreams of interacting with. An elephant and then Britney Spears. It must have been his lucky day. This was all because he presented the MTV Video Awards and spent the whole evening insulting Americans and their choice of political leader. He may look like a fashionable tramp, but we applaud him on that one.

The only thing that really connects David Duchovny and Russell Brand is their love of muff. Spending thousands of dollars on rehab mustn’t have worked for Duchovny, because he’s apparently spent a small amount on Brand’s book detailing his addiction to ladies’ downstairs areas. Digital Spy reports:

“David has been greedily devouring Russell’s pieces on the topic in his autobiography My Booky Wook, his interviews, podcasts and stand-up routines.”

Hopefully David is on the road to recovery. Though God knows how you can be cured of his particular problem. Chopping his willy off would prevent him from ever going like a rabbit at 100mph, but then how would you take a wee wee?

Maybe limiting his shagging to 13 times a night would be a better option. Everyone kind of wins that way. His wife won’t be constantly gasping for air, condom manufacturers will continue to see profits rise and David can keep on doing what he enjoys best. And that’s not making crap spin-off films for an old TV show.

We’re confused because, as far as we can tell, that doesn’t make David Duchovny a sex addict at all. That just makes him a bloke. Hey David, are you in rehab for being a bloke? Are you going to come out of rehab with pigtails and a mangina? Are you? Huh? Huh, David? Huh?

Apparently not, because what we’re starting to hear now is that David Duchovny’s sex addiction isn’t just an addiction to beating himself silly in front of his computer, but an addiction to actually having sex with ladies. Real ladies who exist and aren’t even his wife. Allegedly. So we take it all back – David Duchovny really is as much of a pretend-victim bellend as we originally thought. Sorry David!

As we’re sure you’re all aware, David Duchovny is a sex addict. Announcing his sex addiction was an incredibly brave thing for David Duchovny to do for all kinds of reasons. It put his commercial activities in peril for one, and it meant that he’d inevitably lose a slice of his already-thinning fanbase. But most of all, it was brave for David Duchovny to admit his sex addiction because, as everyone knows, the entire concept of sex addiction is one big fat smelly lie.

Nobody goes into rehab because they’re a sex addict. They go into rehab because their wife caught them with their winky up another woman and – because their brains don’t work fast enough for them to claim that the woman was injured and bleeding to death out of her chuff and the only way to stop the bleeding was to plug the wound with their erect penis – they say that they’re sex addicts and victims and boo hoo don’t leave me it’s a medically-recognised condition.

However, earlier this week it was claimed that David Duchovny hadn’t been bonking his way through a line of fame-hungry sluts with cripplingly low self-esteem at all. In fact, we were told, the only thing that David Duchovny was addicted to was wanking himself into a tizzy every time he got near a computer.

But now it looks like that might have been a lie as well, to cover up for the fact that – if you stand still for long enough – David Duchovny will inevitably sidle over and try to put his cock inside you.

The National Enquirer has made allegations that David Duchovny’s multiple infidelities were the cause of his admission into sex rehab, and MSNBC has the lowdown on it:

According to one Enquirer source, David cheated on wife Téa Leoni many times over the course of their marriage, and only admitted to the affairs after she grew suspicious and confronted him. “(David) said Téa gave him an ultimatum: Get treatment or our marriage is over,” an insider revealed. “She felt it was ruining their marriage and affecting their kids.”

Whether or not this report is true is anyone’s guess. But if it is true, then Tea Leoni has a point – a sex addiction would tend to ruin a marriage. Especially when it means going to meet your in-laws covered from head to toe in a thin coating of your own sperm.

Anyway, we hope for the sake of David Duchovny’s marriage that his sex addiction treatment is a success. But then we’re sure that spending 35 days trapped in a building with an assortment of patients who all suffer from the same intense compulsion to hump every single person they see is absolutely the right way to put an end to his condition.

If you’re British you probably won’t have heard of Johnston and Murphy, they’re a 150-year-old American retailer who flog pale jeans and diamond jumpers to old men and lots of taupe to old women. Over the pond they call it apparel; over here we call it M&S.

Duchovny has been Johnston and Murphy’s poster boy since July of this year. Though thoughts of him sitting at his PC jizzing over the triple anal delights of Randy Rita were apparently too much for company bigwigs to bear. Their New York outlet was asked to remove all traces of Duchovny from the store windows (hopefully this just meant photos and not love excreta).

A staff source commented:

“We got the call from corporate this morning to take him down.“

This move happened last Friday, which was just a few days after Duchovny checked himself into a sex and tossing rehab clinic (how do they cure you, with constant exposure to Winehouse upskirts?). Though when Johnston and Murphy originally signed Duchovny, they had nothing but good things to say about Sir Fistalot.

Said a company spokesperson at the time:

“We are thrilled. David embodies success and confidence, along with a great sense of style, communicating the ideal image for the Johnston and Murphy brands.“

Perhaps they should have conducted more thorough research beforehand? This is not the first time Duchovny has been labelled a ’sex’ addict. He told Playgirl magazine in 1997:

“I’m not a sex addict. I have never been to those meetings. It’s hurtful to my family and if I was involved with a woman in a monogamous relationship, it would be hurtful to her.“

Too true. Of course Duchovny plays a proper sex addict in U.S. drama series Californication. This irony won’t be lost on anyone; not us, not the rest of the world’s media and not the producers of Californication who are preparing to debut the show’s second season later this month.

Duchovny should grab all this attention with his one spare hand while he can. We’re a forgiving bunch if someone cries a lot and talks us to death about a tough childhood (’We didn’t even have computers back then!!’).

Plus the next time he screws us over with another terrible X-Files movie, we’ll at least know he can’t help it.

Unless, it appears, you’re David Duchovny. Although he’s currently being treated for sex addiction in what we expect to be the stickiest, smelliest rehab facility in the world, a friend of David Duchovny has come forward to point out that at no point did David ever cheat on his wife with another woman. That means, scientifically, that either David Duchovny did a bunch of rude things with vegetables or… or…

Or David Duchovny is addicted to having sex with his own wife. The bloody pervert. Castration’s too good for him. David Duchovny, you’re a big fat embarrassment to mankind.

OK, now we feel bad. Last week, when we reported that David Duchovny was a sex addict, we took precisely the wrong tone with him. You see, we assumed that David Duchovny was addicted to having sex with loads of different women. Sadly that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Reports are now suggesting that David Duchovny has always managed to remain faithful to his wife Tea Leoni. Like this one, from Fox News:

Duchovny did not check in because of an extramarital fling. That much the friend is certain of. Even more so: Duchovny’s problem has been longstanding. His wife, Tea Leoni, was aware of it for some time. It had just reached a point where it had to be treated.

Yes, that’s right – David Duchovny has all the guilt and earache of a sex addict, but none of the spine-tingling pleasure that comes from having the promiscuous sexual appetite of a voracious sex addict. In short, David Duchovny genuinely couldn’t have it any worse than he has now.

Plus, just for good luck, now the whole world knows what a dirty little bastard David Duchovny really is. Dirty boy, David Duchovny. Dirty boy. I Want To Believe? I Want To Believe You’re Not Secretly Tugging Yourself Off Everytime You Put Your Hands In Your Pockets, more like. Dirty boy. Urgh.

Anyway, what the Fox reports implies is that David Duchovny has an addiction to internet porn. If this is true then that’s even more tragic – rather than a sex addiction, Duchovny has an addiction to looking at some jiggly pixels shaped liked tits and then joylessly wiping the manmuck off his belly with a Kleenex a couple of minutes afterwards. That’s much less fun – and think of his carbon footprint, too.

If any of this sounds familiar then it’s probably because of Christie Brinkley’s ex-husband Peter Cook, who was found to spend $3,000 a month on internet porn. Maybe David Duchovny and Peter Cook should meet up, because they’d probably be able to provide help and support to each other during their difficult recoveries.

Or they’d just spend hours discussing whether it’s better to jizz in your pants to a video of lesbian Asian schoolgirls or a live webcam of a pregnant midget fingering herself. Either way, they should probably avoid shaking hands with each other first time they meet.

But, no, maybe it’s best that David Duchovny continues with his traditional sex addiction rehab course. We’re not sure what that entails, obviously – we’re assuming a burly nurse with an electric cattle prod waggles some copies of Hot Jug Housewives around and dares you to have a wank, but that’s just a guess.

Dirty boy, Duchovny. Urgh.

Yes, say what you like about David Duchovny, but you can’t fault the flawlessly dignified way that he overcomes life’s obstacles. As an example, the statement that David Duchovny released yesterday claiming that he’s a long-term sex addict and that he’s seeking treatment in rehab for it was as noble and elegant and, yes, dignified as you could ever ask for.

Also – David Duchovny’s a sex addict? Hahahahahahaha hahahahaha hahahaha haha ahaha hahahaha ahaha haaaa! What a tit.

Addiction isn’t a funny thing. Countless lives over the years have been ravaged by a biological and cerebral enslavement to drugs, gambling, smoking and alcohol. No, an addiction is something that should never be treated with anything less than the utmost sensitivity.

Except for when David Duchovny suddenly decides that he’s got a sex addiction, in which case everyone’s allowed to take the piss out of the ridiculous randy old idiot and his uncontrollable todger.

You see, David Duchovny hasn’t got one of those normal sex addictions where you have sex a lot and enjoy it – he’s got one of those dreadful sex addictions where you have sex so much that you hate every single grotty second of it but remain compelled to keep having sex all the time even though it’s killing you on the inside.

Or he’s got one of those sex addictions where your wife catches you having it off with another woman and you have to pretend that it’s not your fault and you’re the real victim in all of this. We simply just don’t know, but it’s probably one of those two things.

Anyway, here’s how David Duchovny broke the shocking news of his absolutely genuine sex addiction -  which is a real thing that actually exists – to the world:

“I have voluntarily entered a facility for the treatment of sex addiction. I ask for respect and privacy for my wife and children as we deal with this situation as a family.”

Well since you asked so nicely David we’ll absolutely respect your privacy, you great big honking dirty-dicked, sweaty-balled minge-chasing, bum-sniffing pork swordsman pervert. Respect is the absolute least you deserve from us.

Fingers crossed that David Duchovny’s stint in rehab will be a brief one, and that he’ll be able to overcome his sex addiction with enough speed and grace to allow him to return to his loving family and his TV show Californication about a, oh, about a hopeless sex addict. Good luck with that, David. That doesn’t sound counterproductive in the slightest.

Still, at least we know why Billy Connolly’s eyes were bleeding in the trailer for The X-Files 2. It’s probably because David Duchovny kept trying to put it up his bum.

Although obviously we don’t say say that with enough certainty to let anyone sue us for it. Just so we’re all clear.

What Chris is trying to say is that The X-Files: I Want To Believe, will not be the load of old tripe we’re expecting; this despite the reoccurring cast of David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson apparently being past their pin-up days and Billy Connelly appearing on screen for more than five seconds.

The plot, for all the spindly details we shall divulge, revolves around Connelly’s Father Joe character, the two tarnished former FBI agents reuniting (in the sack!) and something excitingly weird going on in the snow. There’s kidnapping too, we’ll tell you that much.

Pity then that after eight, long years of not waiting and happily getting on with our lives, this X-Files re-boot is a bigger disappointment than parenthood. Except Ms Anderson – she still looks fine enough to spread on toast – but even she can’t save this mess. Everything appears to happen via staggering coincidence or ‘just because’. Carter’s motto must be ‘If in doubt, write it anyway’.

To call the movie an extended episode would be an insult to the memorable episodes out there. Remember how good Tombs, Nisei or The Host were? Yeah, well they’re nothing like I Want To Believe. The central (DON’T LOOK KIDS! SPOILER!) ‘body harvesting’ theme is interesting, yet skimmed over during the climax and never properly explained. Now, the show has made its bread and butter out of not explaining things, but rarely to the point of incoherence as it does here.

(SPOILER DO STOP NOW!)

On the plus side, there’s sexy Anderson again, a nifty pursuit through a deserted building and maybe one good scare every half hour. Ultimately though this film ends up like masturbation; enjoyable enough while it lasts, but in the grand scheme of things, a complete waste of time.

But that's not the case, no siree. The Red Hot Chili Peppers hate the David Duchovny show Californication because it shares its name with one of their singles and albums, although we forget which one. And so furious are the Red Hot Chili Peppers over the apparent theft of the Californication title that they're suing Showtime for it. That's bad news for Showtime, but we can understand why the Red Hot Chili Peppers did it – after all, if TV shows start stealing their names then it ultimately weakens their brand of drearily insipid identikit bass-solo loving white rich-boy MOR funk-rock that only people's dads really like if they're honest.

We feel for David Duchovny, we really do – The X-Files finished long ago, and yet the poor man is still typecast as a sort of alieny space boffin. Not even writing, directing and starring in a terrible film where Robin Williams plays an amusing disabled man could make the public see David Duchovny as a man who writes, directs and stars in terrible films where Robin Williams plays amusing disabled men instead of Fox Mulder.

So David Duchovny must have been thrilled when Californication was pitched to him – he'd get to play a failed novelist in boob-heavy faux-aspirational lifestyle comedy-drama that's so cloyingly self-satisfied that watching it is like wading through an ocean of congealed sperm on the planet Smug. Californication is the show that will stop David Duchovny being typecast because it's also the show that will stop David Duchovny getting cast.

Sadly, though, Californication is also the title of an eight-year-old Red Hot Chili Peppers album as well as being the title of one of the band's key singles – the one that they've endlessly rehashed for all of their subsequent singles. And, as anyone who knows anything about the Red Hot Chili Peppers knows, they don't like to be messed around with unless the messer wants a strongly-worded Fleamail entry written about them.

But for Californication to call itself Californication when it knew that there was a Red Hot Chili Peppers album called Californication is too much for even Fleamail to cope with. This, the Red Hot Chili Peppers have decided, is an issue that needs to be  solved with a lawsuit. That's why the band is suing Californication's broadcaster Showtime for unfair competition, dilution of the value of the name and unjust enrichment, and lead singer Anthony Kiedis said in a statement that:

"Californication is the signature CD, video and song of the band's career, and for some TV show to come along and steal our identity is not right."

However, the man who created the TV show Californication says that the Red Hot Chili Peppers didn't invent the term at all, and that it was used in an issue of Time magazine in 1972 to describe the plight of Oregon and Colorado locals worried about California's apparently haphazard expansion.

So who'll win this almighty battle between Californication and the Red Hot Chili Peppers? Personally we're not sure that a lawsuit is enough to sort this mess out – which is why we propose that the Red Hot Chili Peppers and everyone involved in producing Californication are packed into CERN's Large Hadron Collider and blasted into each other at the speed of light. There wouldn't be a traditional winner as such, but we'd still quite like to see it.