Do you have a dog? Word to the wise – no-one actually cares. It’s your stupid, gristle-munching crap-factory and no-one else wants to deal with it outside of occasional petting of it when we have to visit your fur covered home that smells like dog’s teeth.

That’s because dogs are stupid. They’re impressively stupid. They walk into things, frighten themselves when flatulent and will forever be fooled by someone pretending to throw a ball for them. Dogs, in short, are idiots.

With that, someone ought to tell Eva Mendes who is ten shades of thrilled that she talks to her dog in French and is bowled over that it knows what she’s on about. Or rather, it has no idea.

Talking to those bright folks at Marie Claire about a stupid hound, Mendes says:

“It sounds so pretentious, but he learned his commands in French.”

Are we’re supposed to coo and whoop because, as well you know, when a celebrity has a dog, we have to care like they’ve had a baby (which we also don’t care about).

Se, Mendes brought a Belgian Malinois and called it Hugo. That doesn’t matter though. She could’ve called it ‘Bestiality’ or ‘Spadooey’ or a low guttural howl, and it would’ve eventually answered to it. Either way, Hugo was apparently ”rather intimidating”, yet, instantly obeyed Mendes’s orders for him to lie down or ‘act stupid’.

This awful, wretched beast has also bought her dog a beeper-controlled behavior-modification collar, whatever that means.

And so, Hugo talks French, mainly because Mendes talks French at it. You could grab a puppy and shout ‘testicles’ at it while presenting its lead and, HEY PRESTO! It will be under the impression that the medical word for balls means it will be going for a walk.

You could shout “Sie lassen mich sich erbrechen wünschen!” at a dog while pointing at the cupboard where you keep the food, and lo! It will think that the unpleasant German phrase means its dinnertime!

In short – people who talk about dogs should be punched up the arse. Forever.

Say what you like about Kelly Osbourne, but… no, seriously. Say whatever you like. We’re not Kelly Osbourne so we’re not going to defend her. That’s because she’s rather fond of doing it for herself.

See, Kelly has had a privileged but awkward upbringing, and so, as some coping mechanism, developed a really loud mouth.

If you go after her, she’ll probably huff and puff and yell your house down. So, when an ex of hers starts slating her on twitter, she’s not likely to take it lying down is she? Especially when she’s still grieving over the loss of her friend, Amy Winehouse.

Osbourne has had many run-ins with her ex-fiance – Luke Worrall – and this week, he really did pick a lousy time to start airing the dirty linen.

At some point, he obviously remembered that his ex had just lost a mate, and hastily deleted his tweets aimed at Kelly. Sadly for him, she’d already seen them.

After returning and seeing what he wrote, she responded:

“@luke_worrall you’ve made it very clear u only dated me 4 my life style but s*** tweets about me the day im @ a funeral u have hit a new low.”

Fair enough. She wasn’t done though.

“@luke_worrall it was fine when my Kellyphant ass was paying 4everything wasn’t it? i just didn’t think u could get much lower but u did #wow.”

Kellyphant? Crikey. That’s beneath even us!

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Dog owners are idiots. They dote on their flea-bitten shit-factories like they’re proper members of the family, despite the fact they do no work around the house, demand food and walkies and are only good for blaming your flatulence on.

Not that dog owners would ever let on. They look into their idiot dog’s eyes and mistake stupidity for some kind of human empathy. ‘My dog understands me and is always there when I need them!’ Dogs are always there, period. They’re after food or a piss, not a heart-to-heart. Dogs probably don’t even have hearts. Just more shit.

Of course, the rest of us perfectly sensible humans have to put up with people when their dogs die. We suffered like Jesus on the cross when Jennifer Aniston’s dog passed-away, and now, we are required to do the same for Kelly Osbourne who has lost the only thing in her life that she felt was an intellectual equal.

That’s right kiddiewinks, Kelly’s pooch, Noodles, has been ‘put to sleep’ (or, if you’re being honest, terminated with a syringe of poison) which has left her ‘devastated’.

Apparently, this lesser being (we’re talking about the dog here) was exterminated without prejudice after it was discovered that it had an incurable brain defect. No, we don’t care either. Let us get this clear – a dog called Noodles, which is a Pomeranian or something, had a seizure and then got killed.

Not that Kelly sees it through rational eyes.

She said:

“My poor baby girl Noodles is sick. She had a seizure and they don’t know why I’m taking her to see a specialist 2 hours away for a brain scan. I can’t even look at my baby girl with out crying she just looks so sick and helpless.(sic)”

She later tweeted:

“Noodles is not going to make it. She was born with a brain defect and I have to put her to sleep today. I’m devastated. I just cant believe it. (sic)”

The world is potentially going to cry its entire reserves of water over this because this TRAGEDY comes a matter of weeks after Kelly almost lost another dog. A dog called Sid. Sid who died after accidentally swallowing some chewing gum. Chewing gum still in the wrapper.

Stupid fucking canines.

“Poor Sid ate half a packet of chewing gum, last week and I had to rush him to the vet. There’s Xylitol – a sweetener – in gum, which is the dog equivalent of giving cyanide to humans. It causes their blood sugar to drop and shuts down liver functions. He’s fine now, but it was traumatic. The vet thinks, because he chewed it with the paper on, it didn’t go into his system as quickly as it could have, which saved his life.”

Last July, her puppy Woody died aged just 14 weeks old from unknown causes.

At the time, Kelly said:

“My life could not get any worse right now I come home to find my dog Woody is dead.”

So there you have it. Kelly Osbourne. Her house is like Auschwitz for dogs.

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The fun thing about celebrities is that they’re always allegedly doing stuff. They’re allegedly always snorting lines of good quality drugs, reportedly getting hammered and punching their wives or allegedly having an affair with a woman on twitter and knocking up quick superinjunctions.

However, when it comes to Jennifer Aniston, she’s always allegedly doing absolutely nothing. She just stands there, like a hatstand, crying about her dead dog.

And now, the latest thing Aniston isn’t doing is dating some no-mark called Justin Theroux. Her representative is going around quashing the rumours and denying the chance of any sort of romantic link, meaning that they’re the busy person in Hollywood for simply saying “Nope, nothing to see here” all the time.

Of course, this won’t stop us all cooing about the fact that this Theroux chap was spotted eating food in a restaurant with Jen over at LA’s Sunset Towers.

We can assume they enjoyed themselves and order food that they liked to eat, which of course, equates to the fact that they are both definitely going to get married before the year is out.

Wait! Here comes that spokesperson again!

Apparently, this isn’t the case because the pair were in the company of four other people at the dinner. So basically, we’re all imagining them having sex, despite the fact she simply went out for her tea with a bunch of people.

In essence, Jennifer Aniston is so boring that she’s giving Robert Pattinson a run for his money, and he’s a man so tedious that maggots have already had a meeting and agreed that, when he dies, they’ll probably be so bored by his corpse that they won’t eat him on the off-chance that he’s still alive and simply lying there, motionless, as usual.

This means Aniston and R-Pattz are the perfect anti-celebrity couple. They should hook up. In fact, consider this the start of that particular rumour.

They’re definitely shagging. They’re probably doing it in the street somewhere as we speak but no-one has managed to notice them yet because it is roughly as exciting as watching a piece of stone erode in your hand.

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In news that will rock with world, as we saw when Michael Jackson decided to have too much Propofol, it brings us absolutely no pleasure to tell you that Norman, Jennifer Aniston’s Welsh corgi-terrier mix, has died at the age of 15. He is survived by around half-a-dozen other Welsh corgi-terrier mixes from the same litter.

The dog, said to be behind the split of Aniston and Brad Pitt, accompanied the actress on location and everywhere else, and was noted for his penchant for bitches and suffered from an alcohol problem for many years.

In recent years, Norman has had complications in his constitution thank to his hell-raising and the onset of old age.

Jen’s representative said:

“He died a few weeks ago. He was an old dog and it was just his time.”

This is bad news for all as Jennifer recently bought a $4.95 million apartment in New York under the name Norman’s Nest Trust, leaving her house looking a bit stupid now. Sources close to the former Friends actress have suggested that the apartment may be renamed ‘Canine Cadaver Crib’, but we can’t be bothered to verify.

Norman, in later years, was a demanding pet, with Aniston revealing that she has been paying for Norman to receive a number of specialist treatments. She reportedly paid $250 a week on massage and acupuncture therapy for the unreasonable pooch, who has been widely reported as being something of a ‘diva’.

A while ago, a source revealed:

“Norman has been Jennifer’s constant companion during all her emotional upheavals, but he suffers from aching joints and stiffness. Jennifer doesn’t want to put him on medication just yet, so she has opted for doggy spa treatments from a licensed vet technician.”

It was during this spell that Norman was alleged to have had a brief affair with one of Elton John’s canine chums.

Aniston has spoken candidly about Norman in the past:

“It wouldn’t be bad if, when a man comes home, he’d run to his woman with his tail wagging. This sort of excitement is something I’ve always missed in a man to be honest.”

It isn’t clear whether the actress was referring to male genitalia or not in this quote. We’ll just assume she wishes that her love-interests would get their ‘lipstick’ out now and then when she came home from work.

The death of Norman also ties in with the fact that Aniston is to go topless in her next film, while fellating a banana. It would appear that, along with the feint smell of urine, flea collars and gum-disease, Jennifer’s moral compass has passed on to the other side.

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Well it seems Jessica Simpson has finally learned to not make her pets look so delicious all the time.

No doubt right now she’s stripping all her cats out of their hamburger outfits, she’s un-plucking all her canary’s feathers and hoping the generously applied butter-baste rinses off on it’s own, and she’s gonna stop breading her still-alive goldfish every 15 minutes.

She’s not giving all this up for no good reason though – it’s because a coyote recently swooped in, picked up her pooch, and carried it off to a ferrel-dog picnic or something.

Incidentally, all this happened right before Simpson’s eyes.

Not too long ago we all laughed along as a coyote hilariously stumbled into Paris Hilton’s backyard and ate every single dog she has ever owned. Nobody’s laughing now though. Probably because authorities now believe the coyote in question may have gone serial – it’s recently run off with Jessica Simpson’s dog.

And just to avoid any confusion – when we say ‘run off with,’ we don’t mean her puppy had a thing for motorcycle riding bad boys, and as such headed off into the sunset with one. No – we don’t mean that at all. What we’re really trying to imply here is that the tiny Simpson dog was picked up by some yellowed teeth and carried off into a doggie sized rotisserie.

Probably.

Everything we know, we learned from Twitter -  Simpson’s Twitter:

“My heart is broken because a coyote took my precious Daisy right in front of our eyes. HORROR! We are searching. Hoping. Please help!”

We know what you’re thinking – ‘If Simpson was right there then why didn’t she stop the carry-off herself? After all, the most recent reports have describe her as being beefy and muscular.’ That has a simple answer, really – that being let’s see you try to stop a rollerskating coyote with an ACME rocket strapped on. Those things are fast, you know. You’d lose an arm – no matter how beefy it was.

But we have faith that the dog will turn up again, granted it’ll probably be as a white-poofed turd in the middle of the woods, but still, at least we’ll all know what happened. And then the rains will come, and the seasons will change. Eventually the fluffy white turd will melt away into the dirt from which we’ve all come. And then perhaps a seed will sprout – growing ever upwards until one day, as the wind weaves through its branches we’ll hear the faint whisper of a bark reminding us all just how this tree came to thrive.

And that, as we once learned in a cartoon, is the oval of life.

And it’d probably make a good country album. Harvest your pain, Simpson, harvest your pain and set it to a steel guitar.

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The world of entertainment has lost another of its true greats, adding yet another name to the list of death in the last few months.

Following the hysterical splurge of affection for a man who just the day before was being mocked around the clock on Michael Jackson‘s death, through the shameful ignorance shown by the general populace on Steven Wells‘ death and after the rather embarrassing position David Carradine seemed to get himself into – before dying in said position – we have been left shocked by yet another loss.

Ozzy Osbourne‘s dog has been eaten by a coyote.

It’ll be alright – wipe away the tears.

The doddering metal god was saddened to learn that his little Pomeranian, Little Bit, was apparently eaten by a coyote. Why the animal thought Ozzy’s pointless excuse for a dog was something worth spending time killing we’re really not sure, but apparently that didn’t stop the demonic hound of hell.

But why didn’t the grandfather of darkness intervene and shake at the beast while swearing in an incomprehensible outburst to stop it from the (probably quite comedic to watch) mauling? Why, because he was watching the Michael Jackson memorial, of course.

So while Ozzy Osbourne was sat watching a tearful child, recently deprived of her father, speak publicly for the first time in her life – which happened to be to billions of people – one of his favourite pets was being torn to pieces by a naughty wild dog.

That’s quite possibly the saddest day that’s ever happened.

Here – look at something funny to cheer yourselves up… this will do.

A source told THE NEWS:

“Sharon and Ozzy love their dogs to bits. It’s like losing a family member. They are both devastated.”

And from the sound of things, the coyote loved it to bits too. Just for different reasons.

For anyone worried about the potential for wild animals to attack their pets – badgers are little fuckers, after all – the Department of Animal Services had these handy words at… hand:

“Wild animals are opportunistic, and coyotes fit this mould very well.”

Wild animals in ‘fitting the mould of wild animals’ shocker.

Although in 1995 India was a barren wasteland where nothing had ever lived, by 1996 billions of bums had moved in and turned it into a sort of poverty-themed Disneyland.

Tourists love it – and it’s the perfect setting for that Slum Dog Millionaire movie, don’t you think? You don’t think so? Well you’re not alone – all homeless Indian denigrates agree with you wholeheartedly. Enough so that they’re currently picketing outside the home of one of the film’s stars for a big budget name-change or something.

In the movie Slumdog Millionaire, there’s a scene towards the end where the entire cast gets accidentally axed to death by a blind fireman. He’s later found guilty of something or other, and gets hanged by the neck from the Mayor’s crystal chandelier. It’s a tragedy, really. Not as good of a tragedy as we would write, mind you, but a tragedy just the same. We figure that’s why people like it so much.

The western world has always welcomed cinematic sadness with open arms – think about it. That movie where the girl boxer dies on a stool or something – all countries first-world and up actually changed their constitutions to force every single person to have to watch it, by law, on their 18th birthday. Penalty for not doing so is a class c misdemeanor. It truly was great for ticket sales.

And every single movie Ben Stiller ever made – they’re all incredibly tragic. It’s a different kind of tragic, mind you, but still, they’ve made so much money that some African governments literally had to print more.

We meant ‘almost’ literally.

You know who hates tragic movies though? Poverty-stricken East Indians. They hate ‘em. Especially when they’re set in India, and the title of the movie calls their entire financial underclass ‘dogs.’ We’re talking about that insensitive Slumdog Millionaire movie. The natives in India have even been riled enough to stage protests outside the homes of at least one of the film’s actors.

You don’t believe us? Well then, believe the Associated Press:

“Several dozen Mumbai slum residents protested the award-winning film “Slumdog Millionaire” on Thursday, calling the film’s title insulting. The protest came amid mounting excitement in India _ where the movie is set and home to many of its actors _ ahead of Academy Award nominations later Thursday…”I am poor, but don’t call me slumdog,” said Rekha Dhamji, 18, one of about two dozen slum residents who protested outside the home of one of the movie’s actors, Anil Kapoor. “I don’t want to be referred to as a dog,” she said. Other protesters held up banners reading “Poverty For Sale,” and “I am not a dog.” One of them carried a puppy.”

Funny they have such a problem being called dogs when once a year or so they make all their daughters marry one. It’s true – follow the link and see. The lesson learned there is that although dogs do make excellent, caring and attentive spouses, they are still socially several steps below the extremely poor.

This makes those marriages rather tough. Imagine for a second what it would be like to be married to something so wonderful, and yet be forbidden by law from looking it in the eye.

That’s not a life most are willing to lead. Not when you’re madly in love with a cocker spaniel the way we are and always have been since we first saw Foofy in a rich man’s backyard.

We’ll always have Alpo, Foofy, We’ll always have Alpo.

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As a newly-resurgent box office force, Mickey Rourke can now use his fame to raise awareness of anything he likes.

So he has. And what good cause has Mickey Rourke chosen to promote? Why, the unnecessary proliferation of dog testicles. Mickey Rourke has taken part in a PETA campaign to urge dog owners to neuter their pets.

Mickey says this is to stop the murder of millions of unwanted puppies each year, but we think differently – we think Mickey Rourke uses mashed-up dog testicles as a facial filler to mask his weird plastic surgery and that he’s on a stockpile drive.

Mickey Rourke, make no mistake, is the greatest Christmas gift we’ve ever received. Sure, we’ve seen plenty of written-off actors make spectacular comebacks in our time – like when Sylvester Stallone made Rocky Balboa or when Steven Seagal decided to set Under Siege 3 in space – but Mickey Rourke blows them all out of the water. This is for four primary reasons:

1) Mickey Rourke has won unbelievable critical acclaim for his role in The Wrestler.

2) Mickey Rourke has become one of the world’s most highly sought-after actors because of his role in The Wrestler.

3) Mickey Rourke has a face that looks like a water bomb that’s been filled with Ardennes pate and dropped down an abandoned lift shaft.

4) Now that he’s famous, Mickey Rourke won’t bloody shut up about his dogs.

This was apparent on Sunday, when Mickey Rourke essentially dedicated his Golden Globe win to all of his dead pets. But just in case that wasn’t enough, he’s now also decided to take part in a PETA campaign to encourage dog owners to castrate their pets. People reports:

Cradling his Chihuahua, Jaws, in PETA’s new ad, the actor urges people to “have the cojones to fix your dog. When dogs get knocked up, puppies get put down because there aren’t enough homes for them… The most important thing about having a dog and loving a dog is keeping the dog its whole natural life,” says Rourke, who adds that “you have a responsibility to communicate with your animal how much he means to you.”

And there was us thinking that PETA stood for People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals. How wrong we were – turns out it’s actually an acronym for Please Eliminate Testicles Agonisingly. We’ll remember that.

However, just because it doesn’t seem to count canine genital mutilation as cruelty, we shouldn’t write off PETA’s campaign straight away. If Mickey Rourke says that keeping the bollocks on your dog will end up with the death of some unwanted puppies, then maybe it’s our responsibility to make sure that doesn’t happen.

Also, if we do it now then PETA won’t have to resort to its plan B – Mickey Rourke’s ‘I’d Rather Go Naked Than Not Neuter My Pet’ billboard campaign. Nobody deserves to see that.

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Over the years the government has tried many ways to get young people to stop taking drugs, but none more effective than this.

It’s a dead dog with a sawn-open chest screaming at a man who’s having a nosebleed in the voice of David Mitchell from Peep Show. Seriously, point us towards the nearest monastery. We’ll be fine there.

10 - Our very first thought of 2009: “Jesus, fireworks are rubbish” Try and sit through all of this. Bet you can’t…

9 - Apparently there are shipwrecks on Google Maps. Someone find us one – Informationweek

8 – Bob Dylan is a weirdo – Bite-Dose

7 - 10 things not to say to porn star – Asylum

6 - Look, here’s a freakishly obedient dog – I Am Bored

5 - We love you, Little Jean Claude Van-Damme – Totallycrap

4 – Something new to be terrified about this year: third-hand smoke – NYT

3 - 30 brilliant opening titles to movies – Smashingmagazine

2 - This just in: Darwin Award won by an idiot - Metro

1 - This really exists: the fart silencer - Weirdasianews

Reason why Jennifer Lopez is better than you: She gets to take dogs onto planes, but you can’t even take a medium-sized bottle of Timotei.

Don’t worry about it too much though, because taking dogs onto planes has its downsides – like, for instance, when the dog goes berserk and bites a flight attendant and she falls over and hurts her back and can’t work and sues you for $5 million. That’s what a flight attendant is claiming happened when Jennifer Lopez took her German Shepherd on a flight, anyway.

The lawsuit hasn’t gone through yet, so we don’t know if this savage dog attack really happened or not. But if it did, good for Jennifer Lopez. $5 million is a small sum to pay so long as it reminds the flight attendants of the world that when Jennifer Lopez wants her complimentary peanuts, she jolly well wants them now.

She might be blissfully in love with the man, but Jennifer Lopez hasn’t exactly had an easy time of it since she’s been with Marc Anthony, has she? First she had to deal with a tenuous implication with a tax scam, then a tenuous implication with a heroin dealer, and then the flipping man went and knocked her up.

But if that’s not enough, Marc Anthony has also started legally registering dogs in his name that may or may not go on to savage a flight attendant’s leg two years ago. What a sick bastard he is.

Or what an unsick non-bastard he isn’t, depending on whether the German Shepherd he owns with Jennifer Lopez ruined the professional career of flight attendant Lisa Wilson by biting her in 2006 or not.

Wilson certainly thinks it did – in a $5 million lawsuit, she’s claiming that a German Shepherd that Jennifer Lopez took onto a plane in 2006 reared up and savaged her in the leg, causing her to fall over and bugger up her back enough to get time off work as a result. The New York Daily News reports:

At first, only Lopez, was named in the court papers. But now her husband Marc Anthony has been added as a defendant after lawyers for her said he is the registered owner of the dog, called Floyd.

You what the problem is, don’t you. It’s that Jennifer Lopez isn’t playing by the rules. As a celebrity, all dogs she owns have to be small enough to fit into a handbag. Not only do they look cuter that way, but if one attacks you, you can easily break its jaw off or fling it under the wheels of an oncoming train or something.

But a German Shepherd? That’s hardly fair at all – unless of course we’ve got the wrong end of the stick and Lisa Wilson was attacked by the German man employed to look after Jennifer Lopez’s sheep. If that’s the case we’re only happy to take it all back.

It seems clear to us that if celebrity dogs are really going to start attacking flight attendants on planes, then it’s only fair that the flight attendants should be allowed to bring their own wolves onto planes to retaliate. We’ve thought this through and, although the only logical outcome of this scenario involves aeroplanes full of bears and dinosaurs attacking each other, it really is the only sensible thing to do.

Either way it’s a mess. Let’s hope Jennifer Lopez learns from this experience and restricts her future contact with animals to the ones that she mutilates purely to annoy Heather Mills. That way everyone wins.

Soap operas are brilliant, aren’t they? They all give a retrospective insight into life in the various locations where they are all filmed.

In Emmerdale for instance, all the characters belong to rival farming tribes and live in the middle of nowhere. Coronation Street is full of a variety of characters, from the old, young and transsexual. But the best has to be EastEnders. It's attempt at showing murky gangster activity is hilarious. All these soaps also have one thing in common. 

It doesn't matter how legendary a soap character is, as soon as they've been killed off they'll never work on television again. For one unlucky EastEnders character, their 14-year stint is soon to be over. But who is it? Find out after the jump.

The most obvious EastEnders character to drown in a mouldy beer keg or vat of boiling chip fat would be serial lady loser Ian Beale. Over the years he’s married various women, had sex with prostitutes and had all sorts of arguments with resident hardman Phil Mitchell. We would have said Grant Mitchell, but he was off filming badly made programs on gangs at the time. 

So we’ve kept you in suspense for long enough, who is going to the unfortunate character to be given the chop? Well it’s someone who has never really had a home and has been passed from family to family in Albert Square. But he is no tramp or student. His storylines have seen him run over, kidnapped and, recently, traded for a pineapple.

Whilst Pat Butcher would have been a reasonable guess, it is actually Wellard the dog. 

Starting off life with the annoying Robbie Jackson, played by the really annoying Dean Gaffney, this loveable pooch occasionally pops up in the odd episode to randomly bark at strangers, dry-hump people's legs, steal sausages from the butchers and terrorise old people. Sonia and Gus have since been in charge of looking after him, but they got bored of having to clean up dog shit and passed him onto some other naive cockney resident of the square. 

Despite the show announcing the death of Wellard, it doesn’t mean he won’t come back in twenty years time as a ghost dog. Remember Dirty Den? Apparently he got shot, fell in a lake and died a bloody death. The truth of the matter is that Dirty Den is immune to bullets and didn’t die. People who say he was brought back to boost ratings are just cynical.

When he wasn’t wanking on the internet, Den came back to try and run the square. This failed and he ended up being killed again and buried in the pub cellar. We expect to see him again in 2046. 

So how will Wellard die? Details haven’t been released yet, but we are willing to bet that a Korean restaurant will buy Ian Beale’s cafe and transform it in to a snack bar using Wellard as the filling for a sandwich.  

Or he’ll just die, take your pick.

We’ve been wondering for days if Tatum O’Neal really did love her dog. Well, praise Jeebus, we have an answer!

Tatum O’Neal’s dog groomer has come along to confirm that Tatum did, in fact, love her dog, and also to defend Tatum saying that her doggy’s death was the reason for her attempted cocaine buying escapades earlier this week.

This may seem like a bunch of stupid nonsense from one deluded twit about another deluded twit who used her dead dog as a deluded, twitty excuse to buy drugs, but it’s not.

We forget why, though…

Tatum O’Neal has made it abundantly clear that she has had problems with drugs and alcohol throughout her life. After winning an Oscar at the age of 10, her life has been tainted by being molested as a child, being neglected by her mother, surviving an emotionally abusive father and his bachelor ways, finding John McEnroe attractive… all sorts of travesties.

So, when Tatum O’Neal’s 16-year-old Scottish terrier, Lena, died recently, Tatum had an emotional breakdown – not to mention a complete lapse in the mental coherency that would lead pretty much every other human on the planet to not go buying illegal stuff because their pet died – she unsuccessfully tried to buy some crack.

But before you go off saying ‘A dead dog is your embarrassing excuse, Tatum?! Pah!’, let’s hear from the one true expert on the situation: Tatum’s dog groomer, Jorge Bendersky. He gave details to OK! about Tatum’s love for her ridiculously old pooch:

“She loved that dog. She would bring her here super-often. I have so many clients, I can see them going through stuff with their dog; it’s devastating. And somebody who has the inclination, or had a path with some trouble, it could push you over the edge, more when you are attached to the dog as you are.”

This is why people with substance abuse issues like Tatum should start out with a fern or a bush or something, so that when it died she’d only lose her marbles enough to try and score some pot or go sniff a jar of rubber cement glue.

As unfortunate as the situation is, it makes one wonder what she would have tried to buy if she’d lost an actual human being. Automatic weapons with armour-piercing bullets? A nuclear warhead? A box set of Drew Barrymore movies? Yes, we’re as terrified as you are. Let’s just all pray she’s better able to handle her grief should such a situation arrive.

Awful, awful, tragic news – Martha Stewart’s dog has passed away.

Almost 13 years old, Martha Stewart’s dog had previously been struggling with renal disease of late, but recently lost its epic battle with the illness on Saturday. The death of Martha Stewart’s job – familiar to millions of fans through countless appearances in commercials, television shows and magazines – has reportedly left Martha Stewart distraught. Out thoughts are with her.

Or at least our thoughts would be with her, but we’re too busy giggling because the dog’s name was Kublai Khan Paw Paw Chow Chow Chow. Kublai Khan Paw Paw Chow Chow Chow, for god’s sake. Still, at least now it’s dead Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie are free to give the name to their next child without guilt.

It’s lucky that Martha Stewart is a cyborg with a seven-lever nozzled bolted safe where her heart should be, because her dog’s just died and we hate seeing women of her age cry.

Usually Martha Stewart finds joy in whatever she does, whether it involves rowing a pumpkin across a river, enraging yokels by trademarking their town’s name or being found guilty of conspiracy, obstruction of an agency proceeding and making false statements to federal investigators by a court of law and imprisoned for five months. But not even Martha Stewart can stay happy now that her dog has died.

Kublai Khan Paw Paw Chow Chow Chow – for that was its name, Kublai Khan Paw Paw Chow Chow Chow – completed Martha Stewart. Where she was robotic and lifeless, he had a waggy tail. Where she possessed a steely flair for business, he liked to piss up against trees. Where she had a dry nose and a perfectly-functioning renal system, he had a wet nose and a pair of kidneys that couldn’t have been more knackered if they were made of smashed-up animal balls.

It was exactly that, we’re sad to say, was the undoing of Kublai Khan Paw Paw Chow Chow Chow. And Martha Stewart is genuinely distraught about it, to the extent that she wrote a special blog post about it. You see, even though he was named after the noise a six-year-old boy makes if you give him a plastic gun, Kublai Khan Paw Paw Chow Chow Chow was a loving, docile creature as Martha Stewart writes:

Paw Paw was a spectacular chow and an even more spectacular dog. He was always my loyal companion, displaying the most agreeable temperament… Beauty-Boy, Paw-Paw was elegant and kind and reserved and charming up until the very last moment. He was the only pet I ever had, with the exception of Blue Maximilian Chow Chow Chow, who was never disobedient, and never, ever, required me to raise my voice.

Yes, good old Kublai Khan Paw Paw Chow Chow Chow and Blue Maximilian Chow Chow Chow. They were such wonderful animals. Not like all those other pets she had. They were right little fuckers.

Elsewhere in the blog post, Martha Stewart pays tribute to Kublai Khan Paw Paw Chow Chow Chow with a series of photos captioned, as dog-lovers seem to always enjoy doing, in the dog’s own voice. And what did the dog have to say for itself according to Martha Stewart?

Martha always liked to bury in my fur. I’ll miss those hugs and kisses. She nuzzled me so gently. I’m not even dreaming anymore.

We won’t judge her. Everyone has their own way of grieving, and it seems that Martha Stewart’s involves being uncomfortably creepy. That’s just her way.

But how will Martha Stewart cope with the loss of a companion as loyal as – oh, alright, one last time – Kublai Khan Paw Paw Chow Chow Chow? Well, perhaps she should get in contact with George Clooney. George was equally cut up when his pig died, and he found ways to get over his loss – namely by fighting with Fabio.

Yes, we’re basically saying that Martha Stewart should fight Fabio. Oh, like you wouldn’t want to see that too.

Read more:

Paw Paw: I Will Miss Him – Martha Stewart