Britain’s Got Talent, the nation’s premier talent contest attracts thousands of willing participants each year. From dancing dogs to fire-eaters, gymnasts to geriatrics, the show has everything people could possibly want on a Saturday evening. That is, apart from three judges with any discernable talent.

Much has been made of BGT judge Michael McIntyre’s innate ability to point out things that are usually seen as too mundane to mention while dancing around the stage like a human spinning-top, pepped up on a cocktail of cocaine and speed. This seemed, to Simon Cowell at least, enough talent to secure him a place on the judging panel. However, it seems that he’s too nice to keep it.

What of David Hasselhoff? He’s big in Germany for his warbling singing voice, while he is best-known in this country for playing the role of the drunk, strung-out father in 80s’ TV classic Knight Rider. What will become of him and his perma-tan?

While the future of these two pantheons of talent hang in the balance, former Les Dennis cock-botherer Amanda Holden has come up with a plan to distract Simon Cowell from her obvious lack of any real showbiz credentials. This is, of course, the woman who was almost mistakenly cut down during filming of Wild At Heart, during a campaign of deforestation near the set. She needed some kind of Plan B (not the ‘soul saviour’).

According to reports, the swollen-bellied arbiter of taste and ability is planning to sweeten the deal with talent show supremo Simon Cowell by making him her baby’s Godfather. Presumably the offer of her first-born didn’t appeal to Cowell as much as the opportunity to mould a completely fresh child in his demonic, self-appreciating image.

The spawn is set to be unleashed early next year, around the time of the first Britain’s Got Talent auditions, and Holden doesn’t want to miss out. She even seems willing to give over some control of her family life to a man with one of the most evil minds in the world. Cowell is said to be thinking of using the child as a round in Red or Black, his quite preposterous new challenge show in which members of the public have a chance to win their dignity back in front of millions, before having the opportunity snatched away, only to be spat on by Ant McPartlin.

Speaking to some Red-Top purveyor of molly-coddled twattery, the woman, so often mistaken for a sapling, stated:

“Simon is the ultimate godfather. I’m going to make Simon godfather so I don’t get the sack from Britain’s Got Talent.”

That’s a nice thought, isn’t it? In order to advance your career, you’d sign your child over to Syco.

“I’ve been told my seat is safe but the dates may clash. But we’ll work something out. I’ve been told by all the right people I’m safe.”

“All the right people” have let out massive pantomime ‘Awwww’ in near-perfect unison. The notion that Amanda may be so predisposed jettisoning a child from her reproductive organs that she might miss out on the opportunity to judge a ‘street dance’ troupe while sitting next to a recovering alcoholic and a child-like comedian, awestruck by the wonder and glory of everything he sees, fills them with sorrow. It’s a real tragedy.

Still, priorities, eh?

Once upon a time, people would drink in pubs where there weren’t fruit machines, cigarette dispensers and jukeboxes. In-between slurping pints of ale, people brought round battered guitars and embraced the now disappearing art of simply playing a tune whilst everyone else had a sing song, even if they were rubbish.

Now this format has been taken on to mass scale where people openly and happily flaunt their singing abilities in front of a panel of supposed experts and a pack of baying audience members.

The majority are appalling and no amount of insults will pop the egotistical shield they hide behind. At times, sparks of genius such as horse faced Leona Lewis and human gargoyle Susan Boyle proved otherwise. However, one starlet appeared this year called Gamu – a young woman with a remarkable voice. Sadly she is now less known for her talent and instead used as a guide for UK immigration laws. Rock ‘n’ roll.

Once Gamu hit the scene, The X Factor suddenly stopped being a singing competition and instead became a parody of itself. Accusations of racism got flung around alongside the immigration issue. However, nobody ever stopped to ever ask themselves, “was Cheryl Cole right in thinking that Gamu wasn’t prepared for the big time, or was she totally rubbish and a generic dull singer?” Because people worryingly take supposed “light entertainment” shows seriously, hilarious death threats to judge Cheryl Coleb were sent, causing the police to get involved.

What the public failed to grasp was the daftness of Gamu in the first place. Even our hearts melted a little bit when she broke in to ‘Walking on Sunshine’, but something didn’t quite click inside her head. Sadly, people who appear on reality TV subsequently get their entire life dissected via the media. Amazingly, living with her mother on an expired visa was probably going to get picked up at some point.

Even though casual xenophobia exists too much for our liking, we half expected comments of “bloody foreigners, coming here and stealing our spots in singing competitions” to be ushered in. Oh no, in true British irony, Facebook groups were set up to save her. Granted, the authorities wanted to send her back to Zimbabwe, a country not exactly known for giving out cuddles and popcorn at the border.

We’ve heard nothing much from Gamu since The X Factor got in to the swing of things, apart from pleasing news her family won a first round court battle. Like Susan Boyle, Gamu dreamed a dream of being a singer and subsequently flogging something like tinfoil when record sales declined. Normally, half decent recent rejects get a record deal from Simon Cowell, but oddly 50 Cent has something lined up for Gamu.

“Fiddy had to wait until Gamu was released from her X Factor contract before signing her, as the show prevented the Zimbabwean singer from penning any new deals, or promoting her own work during the programme. The rapper has recruited Gamu – or Miss Gamuchirai as she will now be known – after being interested in her “for some time.”

Before you all jump around like idiots, accusing Gamu of changing her recording artist name after bagging a big deal, she is going by her surname – something which will prove hilarious when people try to announce it on live radio.

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What we like most about the new administration doesn’t have to do with change, but that our 20-year-old petition for a Lando Calrissian Star Wars spin-off may finally get some White House backing.

Seriously, our script has been yellowing in our closet. Lucas doesn’t know a good thing when he sees it – he must be racist. Why else would he refuse our package at the door? Over 100 times?

Speaking of overly long hand-crafted literature that nobody except George Lucas should have to read – Britney Spears has just agreed to write her autobiography. Sorry, up to five autobiographies.

It wasn’t so long ago that Lynne Spears, fleshy-incubator of Britney, wrote a tell-all book about mothering or something. The first chapter alone included bits about how Brit-Brit breastfed well into the eighth grade, and that Jamie Lynn‘s baby was strictly the result of her losing control of her wheelies and rolling awkwardly into a pond where three horny alligators had only just been.

Well that’s how the book would have read had our first ghost-written copy been approved by all the necessary parties.

It wasn’t.

Those Spears’ though, they must have book writing in the blood. We’ll use this chunk from The Mirror to prove our point:

Our source reveals: “There have been numerous unofficial biographies printed about Britney, but she’s never agreed to pen her own tome – until now.” And some of the stories she’s got are absolute dynamite. She’s kept diaries so there’s nothing she’ll leave out unless she wants to. “If the deal goes ahead she will write between three and five books throughout the next decade – it’s one of the most lucrative book deals in showbiz history.”

Now when you started reading this article we have no doubt you thought to yourself – ‘Britney’s writing a book? But she’s lived so much, how can one novel possibly contain it all?’ And your answer there is, as already stated in the above quote, she’s gonna stretch it over the course of at least three books. Sound like a series to challenge Narnia itself. And the Encyclopedia Brittanica.

One of the few things we may already know about the Spears books so far is that when they’re inevitably made into a movie, Spears absolutely insists the part of her be played by Daniel Radcliffe. She really likes what he’s done with the Potter franchise. We’ve heard she’s already mailed him her red Martian jumpsuit to make sure it fits, which incidentally it does.

Now, granted, at this point book #1 is in a pretty early, non-written stage. However, through hecklerspray’s amazing ability to know all things as they were, as they are and as they’ve yet to be, we have some excerpts for you

Excerpt one:

“I studied the finger nails. I looked closer and wondered if those cuticles could possibly be as full of tape worms as they looked. So wriggly, so alive. Then Kevin finished his dance, and I knew I would love him.”

Excerpt two:

“I looked at my mother. I was scared – did she know what I’d done? Should I confess before she finds out? Yes – yes of course I should. So with the pony’s blood dripping down my teeth & cheeks I said “Momma, I been bad.”

Excerpt three:

“…me! They wanted me to be dungeon master! Nervously, I picked up the dice…”

That last bit actually bleeds over into book two. You should definitely buy it.

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Thank heavens Marvel started making its own movies – without it we’d have never known what Edward Norton would be like in a crappy Incredible Hulk flick.

And because Marvel has been so brilliant at churning out one successful movie that everybody likes and one mediocre movie that everyone instantly forgets about a nanosecond after leaving the cinema, that can only mean one thing. More Marvel movies!

Paramount has just signed a deal to globally release the next five Marvel films. Since that includes Thor and Captain America, Paramount probably thinks it’s got a pretty sweet deal going on. But it should have read the contract in more detail – the other three movies are about Dazzler, 8-Ball and an utterly pointless shot-for-shot remake of Daredevil, this time with all the characters played by Ben Affleck. Eat it, Paramount!

We’re just starting to see how successful Marvel is at making its own movies. Back when Marvel announced its movie production business in 2005, we weren’t alone in fearing thousands of low-quality direct-to-DVD standard movies about all the superheroes nobody cares about. But Marvel has proved us wrong.

Look at Iron Man – by cherry-picking some of the world’s best actors, letting them operate under one of the world’s most admired indie directors and giving them hundreds of millions of dollars to blow shit up with, Iron Man was always going to be a guaranteed smash. And then there was The Incredible Hulk, which was, um. Yeah.

But the Marvel formula has been set – which is why Kenneth Branagh might be directing Thor next – and it mostly works very well. Which is why Paramount has just decided to globally distribute all the films that Marvel can possibly push out. Reuters reports:

Marvel Entertainment Inc raised its film unit’s 2008 revenue outlook following initial payments of $60 million from Viacom’s Paramount Pictures — the distributor of the comic book publisher’s “Iron Man” movie. Paramount will also distribute Marvel’s next five self-produced feature films across the world, the two companies said in a separate statement.

And it’s probably a wise investment on Paramount’s part, because Marvel seems to be so hell-bent on putting a movie about The Avengers together that it’ll keep throwing out huge new movies based on its individual members – and the inevitable sequels – until it gets there.

In fact, we’ve snuck a look at Marvel’s proposed slate of new movies in the order they’re to be released, and Paramount has every reason to be excited. Look…

Iron Man 2

Thor

The Incredible Hulk 2

Iron Man 3

Captain America

Thor 2

Captain America Vs The Incredible Hulk

Iron Man 5

Thor! Thor! Tho… Oh, Sorry, I Thought You Were Thor

Iron Man 4

Iron Man & Thor Vs The Incredible Hulk & One Of Thor’s Cousins

Captain America Asks Iron Man To Borrow A Stapler, But Iron Man Doesn’t Know Where He Put It

The Incredible Hulk Gets Stuck In A Flowerpot And Thor Puts It On YouTube

Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner? Oh, Captain America Is

If Jay-Z really is getting married to Beyonce soon, there'd better be an open bar at the reception – it's not like he can't afford it.

Following similar deals with Madonna and The Rollings Stones, Live Nation has signed up Jay-Z. And if you were wondering what price you'd get a past-his-best, commercially-stagnating rapper for these days, the answer is clear $150 million.

$150 million might sound like a lot for Live Nation to pay for Jay-Z, but don't forget that these Live Nation contracts don't just involve recordings – it'll have a slice of everything from Jay-Z's concert tickets to merchandise sales to 'entrepreneurial concepts' as well. Plus on Christmas Eve and the Queen's birthday one lucky Live Nation executive gets to briefly look at Beyonce's knickers. Money well spent, we're sure.

With the music industry falling to pieces, crumbling under a tidal wave of illegal downloads and videogames and people not wanting to pay £20 for a CD just because it's got a folded-up poster inside it, it seems like everyone's flailing around looking for new business models. Acts are hawking their music at coffee shops or doing confusing internet price-reduction systems or, worse, being Nine Inch Nails – and nobody really has a clue about the future.

Nobody, that is, except for Live Nation. Live Nation knows that the only way to make any money from the music business any more is to forget about CDs and just charge everyone £25 million for a concert ticket instead. It's a system that Live Nation seems confident with, because it's already signed Madonna up for a decade and inflicted U2 on us for another 12 years – and now it's doing the same with Jay-Z.

Jay-Z has signed over more or less everything he'll ever do in the future to Live Nation in return for $150 million or, as he prefers to call it, one pair of quite nice shoes. Time reports:

In a $150 million deal certain to rock what remains of the record industry, Jay-Z has announced plans to depart Def Jam records and give the totality of his creative output — from songs to touring revenue to un-hatched entrepreneurial ideas — to concert promotion behemoth Live Nation… Live Nation is expected to furnish Jay-Z, born Shawn Carter, with $5 million in seed money annually for his own label, publishing arm and management company, with significantly more funds available for future acquisitions and expansion. He will also receive a $25 million upfront payment and $10 million per album for a minimum of three albums over the next decade.

Looking at those figures, it's no surprise that Jay-Z accepted Live Nation's offer. But as amazing as this deal looks, there are also some downsides. For instance, in the event of Jay-Z fathering a child, his contract states that the baby must be called I Love Live Nation and be fitted with a microchip that plays up-to-the-minute audio commercials for Live Nation concerts at three billion decibels every second that it's awake. Plus, you know, it means Jay-Z shares a label with U2. Yeurgh.

Of course, the importance of the deal is far greater than Madonna's or U2's because, up until recently, Jay-Z was in charge of a traditional record label. For him to jump ship to Live Nation so readily must mean that he fully believes in the Live Nation business model.

And, who knows, once word gets out that Live Nation is the way forward, maybe it'll even be able to sign an act that isn't at least a decade past its best work.

Read more:

Jay-Z: Music's $150 Million Dollar Man – Time 

Today is a momentous day – it's the day that Paul McCartney and Heather Mills finally discover their divorce deal, putting an end to their long-winded divorce forever.

Well, OK, maybe not forever – we're pretty sure that by teatime Heather Mills will have decided to take the whole thing to an appeal court because she's not happy with the tens of millions of pounds that she's been awarded – but for a bit at least.

How much money will Paul McCartney be ordered to pay Heather Mills? At the moment, newspaper reports are saying £25 million which, going on the accuracy of previous reports, means that in truth the real total could be anywhere between one pence and sixteen hundred jillion quid and a floating space-palace made out of kitten-breath.

In the future, scrotum-faced old millionaires are going to think twice before they marry one-legged former pornstars, and it's all thanks to this divorce between Paul McCartney and Heather Mills. Sure, Paul and Heather looked like a cute couple to begin with – OK, not a cute couple; more like a wonk-faced disabled lady taking her granddad out to keep his mind active – but just look at the way things have fallen apart.

The divorce has been equally acrimonious on each side. Heather Mills has accused Paul McCartney of stabbing her, plus she's done several deranged screaming television interviews about the divorce, while Paul McCartney possibly had it off with a rich American and waggled his head about like the Churchill dog a bit afterwards.

But today all the nastiness will come to an end. Yes, we know we said that a month ago when Paul McCartney and Heather Mills were supposed to finalise their divorce but couldn't stop arguing – but this time it looks like it really might be all over. As BBC News reports, the judge who decides how much cash Heather Mills gets will make his final decision today:

Sir Paul McCartney will find out later how much of his fortune he is expected to hand over to estranged wife Heather Mills in their divorce settlement. The couple failed to reach an agreement in court last month, leaving the judge to determine the final figure. Divorce experts have estimated Ms Mills could walk away with £60m of Sir Paul's estimated £825m fortune. Speculation over the sum has been rife in the press, but Mr Justice Bennet is not obliged to reveal the details.

He's not obliged to, but he probably will anyway. Today's not going to a particularly brilliant day for either Paul McCartney or Heather Mills – they're both effectively having 'shit at marriage' rubberstamped into their permanent records – but at least it means that their painful 22-month separation process will be finished.

Yeah, as if. Common consensus says that Paul McCartney will be told to pay Heather Mills £25 million today. For the average British worker that's about 834 years of wages, but for Heather Mills it's half as much as she thought she'd be getting. And that means that Heather's now far more likely to drag the divorce through an expensive, emotionally-draining and – most importantly - public appeals procedure. Joy.

Like most people, we're past caring what happens in the Paul McCartney/ Heather Mills divorce any more. All we hope is that, whatever Paul McCartney has to pay, it'll be worth whatever he made letting American Idol massacre all those Beatles songs last week. Somehow, we don't think it will.

Read more:

McCartneys to learn divorce deal – BBC 

Not so long ago, Busta Rhymes was alleged to have duffed up so many poor suckers that we thought he'd easily wind up in jail.

However, Busta Rhymes isn't going to jail at all. Earlier today, Busta Rhymes copped to a plea deal that means he'll have to do 10 days of community service for attacking an employee and a fan instead of the full one year jail stretch.

But ha! The joke's on you, Busta Rhymes – sure, you might have thought that 10 days of community service is the easy option, but as a celebrity if you'd have settled for jail you'd have only actually been locked up for 23 minutes and a lovely cup of tea. Nice one, durr-brain.

Busta Rhymes is like a walking moral that today's youth can learn from. And that moral is 'don't keep quiet when your bodyguard is murdered' because if you do, police will arrest you time and time again for every little mistake you make and you might wind up in jail.

Obviously there's Busta Rhyme's secondary moral, which is 'don't go round beating people up because you haven't paid their wages or they spat on your car' because that makes you look a bit of a dick. And you might wind up in jail. Listen to Busta Rhymes, kids.

Sadly, Busta Rhymes doesn't listen to the pieces of his own advice that we just put in his mouth. After being arrested for beating up one of his drivers who he hadn't paid and another man who spat on his car – plus just about being illegal in every single other way there is – Busta Rhymes has been staring jail in the face over the last few months.

What made Busta Rhymes' jail sentence more inevitable was the way that he refused all plea bargains for fear that his masculinity would diminish so much he may as well just go out wearing a T-shirt reading 'I'm Busta Rhymes And My Penis Is The Size Of A Baby's Amputated Fingertip.'

So it goes without saying that earlier today Busta Rhymes caved in and accepted a plea deal to keep him out of jail like a big blouse-wearing baby Jemima who cries and wets the bed and rides ponies around her fairytale courtyard. The New York Post reports:

Rapper Busta Rhymes cut a deal with prosecutors today that keeps him out of jail for two misdemeanor assault charges. Prosecutors wanted Rhymes, whose real name is Trevor Smith, to spend one year behind bars. Instead, he'll do 10 days of community service. Rhymes also faced driving with a suspended license and driving while intoxicated charges. He will lose his license for six months and must enroll in a DWI program.

Busta Rhymes can certainly count himself lucky that he was still even allowed to accept a plea deal given his previous numptiness. But let's not reflect on the past – let's reflect on what Busta Rhymes' community service will be.

In the past Busta has stated that he wants to share his knowledge with the kids of today, but the judge is hardly going to go along with that, unless he wants all the kids of today to be expertly schooled in the various ways you can boneheadedly beat someone up while yapping "Flipmode!" over and over like an especially violent parrot.

No, chances are Busta Rhymes will be given some sort of menial cleaning-based community service. In which case, let's hope that Busta Rhymes doesn't use his own spit to lubricate the cleaning process at any point, because Busta Rhymes hates that and will probably beat himself up for doing it, and then they'll both probably end up in jail.

Read more:

BUSTA RHYMES CUTS DEAL TO AVOID JAIL - New York Post 

X Factor ended less than a month ago but, like a child trying to cope with a disturbing period of abuse, we've already blocked it out emotionally.

As such, we can't remember a single thing about last year's X Factor – we seem to recall that it was won by a plank of balsa wood dressed as Frank Sinatra that couldn't stop crying, but that's about it. Anyway, apparently someone from X Factor called Rhydian Roberts has just signed a million-pound record deal.

Wait, no, it's all coming back. Make it stop! Lord, make it stop! Mother! The pain!

X Factor is called X Factor because to win it you can't just be a good singer, you have to have another, more elusive quality. Judging by the last two X Factor winners Leona Lewis and Leon Jackson, it looks like the 'X Factor' in question is a crippling inability to say, do or think anything to prove that you've got the remotest sliver of a personality tucked away inside your probably robotic brain.

But Rhydian Roberts, runner-up in last year's X Factor competition, doesn't have that problem at all. He oozes with personality. Trouble is, it's the personality of a dickhead.

That much was clear from Rhydian's very first X Factor audition when Sharon Osbourne called him 'vile' and Dannii Minogue mimed a puking fit after he left – and became even more clear when he eventually lost X Factor to Leon Jackson, spent the entire evening sulking bitterly in a corner, made some weird claims about the result being a fix and avoided the X Factor wrap party because he was too busy standing on a rock in the middle of nowhere screaming swearwords at the moon.

The truth is that Rhydian lost X Factor because people either love his shouty operatic hits-from-the-musicals shtick or they hate it, depending mostly on whether they're retired librarians called Gerald who go on walking holidays and collect commemorative coin sets or not.

But that hasn't stopped Rhydian from continuing his steel-eyed march to oppressive catch-all success. Leon Jackson may have won the battle by getting the Christmas number one, but Rhydian Roberts is determined to win the war, and now he has just officially signed a million-pound record deal with Sony BMG as well as getting a vague offer from Andrew Lloyd-Webber to be the star of the forthcoming Phantom Of The Opera 2: Viva Rock Vegas. And what has Leon Jackson got, huh? HUH?

That means that Rhydian Roberts is preparing to unleash himself as an actual popstar, hoping to emulate the second-place X Factor success of the evil Scouse ventriloquist dummy and the sad binman. Or maybe Rhydian will do better than that. Maybe Rhydian will go on to become one of the biggest popstars this country has ever produced.

If we're distant for the rest of the day it'll be because we're trying to work out how we did that emotional blocking thing from earlier. We get the feeling we'll be needing it.

Read more:

Rippling Rhydian: X Factor runner-up has the muscles but not the tan to fit in with the beach hunks – Daily Mail 

Chances are that Rhydian Roberts expected to wake up this morning as the X Factor champion, but that just didn't happen thanks to the inexplicable popularity of that funny-looking Scottish boy with the ratty hair.

Historically the X Factor silver medallist is consigned to a simple future – one badly-selling album of Michael Ball cover versions that only gets television coverage on GMTV and then a couple of years of doing corporate shows for 50p and a handful of cakes – but Rhydian Roberts might just escape that, because Simon Cowell has signed Rhydian up and wants him to rush an album out before he ends up inevitably playing the Phantom Of The Opera. And, all being well, Rhydian's album To You Love Rhydian: Rhydian Sings The Best Of Ball should be released early next year.

Perhaps our favourite moment from Saturday's X Factor final came during ITV2's The Xtra Factor – look, it's a professional obligation, OK? We don't watch these things out of choice – when everyone was congratulating newly-crowned X Factor champ Leon Jackson except for Rhydian Roberts who, having expected to win the show from his very first audition, bitterly sat alongside him staring into nothingness like a man watching his house burn down.

Clearly Rhydian's tears were understandable – not only had he let the X Factor production team primp him up like an albino, shape his eyebrows and slap three inches of foundation onto his face, but he also had to come to terms with the fact that perhaps millions of teenage girls weren't so keen on a relentless barrage of one shouted churchy operatic ballad after another – but they were misplaced, because Simon Cowell has decided to sign Rhydian Roberts up after all.

You see, Simon Cowell has come to realise that the pop chart is a fickle bastard, and to get any sort of lasting career out of a reality TV gonk you have to make them produce an album full of operatic standards and pop hits made to sound like operatic standards with a picture of them looking thoughtfully serious in a suit as the cover. You know, the sort of think your Mum would like. It's worked for Il Divo and Paul Potts so far, and now it's time for it to work for Rhydian Roberts.

But there's one thing standing in the way of Simon Cowell's dream, and that's toady old Andrew Lloyd Webber. Even though he apparently turned Rhydian down on that godawful Joseph And His Slightly Girly Frock Coat show of his, Andrew Lloyd Webber is apparently hell-bent on getting Rhydian to star as the Phantom Of The Opera in a new Phantom Of The Opera sequel he's written about the hilarious exploits of the Phantom when he loses his job and has to go and live with his cantankerous father on a scrap metal yard singing songs like You Dirty Old Man and Whoops! (A Rat's Crawled Up My Pipes).

Not that Simon Cowell cares, of course. He'd release an album by a diarrhoea-stricken goat if it made him money, and nothing will stand in his way of doing that with Rhydian. An insider told The Sun:

“Simon is relaxed about Rhydian doing Phantom but he wants to make sure he gets his record deal done first. That way Andrew Lloyd Webber has to work around Simon rather than the other way round.”

So, despite him moping around like a bereaved mother on Saturday night, it looks like everything's coming up Millhouse for Rhydian Roberts. And the spirit of goodwill doesn't end there – Simon Cowell is reportedly close to offering X Factor third-placers Same Difference a deal as well. Admittedly that deal is 'get off my property now and I won't set the hounds on you', but a deal's a deal.

Read more:

Rhydian: 2nd But I've Got A Deal – The Sun