Master of snoozemonies (sorry) Robert Pattinson has said that he would lay down his life if it meant saving the ones he loved. The news comes as hundreds of sharpened spears were found at the home of anti-Twilight campaigner Allan Thorneyflat.

The star of Twilight and forgettable footnote in the Harry Potter series claimed during a TV interview that if it came down to it, he would know what to do prompting thousands of Twihards to question whether Pattinson’s life was really worth all that bother. Here at hecklerspray, we know the consequences of wishing death on someone and in Pattinson’s case, we really, really don’t.

Why?

That’s simple. We have it on good authority that if Robert Pattinson died and was interred in a standard casket in a standard grave (dug to a depth of 7 feet), by the time putrifaction set in his essence would have already killed 90% of the indigenous tree populace in the immediate vicinity. It is projected that by the time his body fully decayed, 86% of the world’s trees would have wilted and died out of sheer boredom.

We don’t want that.

Anyway, the hopefully invincible 25-year-old admitted to Danish TV that he was a chivalrous young man when it came to romance. Speaking from inside an impressive, gilted suit of armour, Pattinson said;

“I think if you love anyone, you kind of feel like that. If you’re in love with anyone, I think the majority of people would say, ‘If I have to die for this person, I will.’”

He won’t if it’s unnecessary though. We imagine that he has a chart of possible outcomes that he keeps close at hand every time he leaves the house. We’ve never seen it but we imagine it looks something like this.

• Mugging – Her.
• Bank robbery – Me.
• Twihards charging down the street in force – Police horse.
• Abducted and held for ransom – Pay ransom.
• 160ft Dragon threatening the city and by consequence Kristen – Me.

It’s probably scrawled on the other side of his “to do” list which has had the same item left on it for years.

• Learn to act.

It has to be real love though. Pattinson believes that you can only truly know you love someone when you’re faced with a straight choice between their death and yours. He added in his droning, monotonous timbre;

“I mean, you don’t really love someone if you’re like, ‘No. Just let them die’.”

That could get really, really awkward. Want to know if Robert Pattinson really loves Kristen Stewart? You know what you have to do. Allan Thorneyflat can’t do it. He’s in jail.

Ricki Lake is a lovely sod isn’t she? Even if her particular brand of cheeriness and optimism grates, you can’t truly hate her can you? Of course you can. She’s a celebrity. You can hate them all you want.

Despite being considerably more wealthy than you, her successes don’t mean she’s not prone to massive thickery.

See, Ricki is just as stupid as anyone else and can totally be duped by people online. She was all ready to marry a man from England who she’s found via online dating and, remarkably, it transpired that he was a “user and liar”.

There are a whole host of people who live out some bizarre fantasy online. Seriously. They sit in their festering pits surrounded by drained bottles of cheap wine, spouting off to the world about their invented achievements and plough through stolen jokes and borrowed anecdotes and nostalgia, wooing the lonely and neglected.

Of course, this two-way neediness is a lesson in abject misery for anyone unlucky enough to catch on to it.

So, if you’re pretending to be a kind, sensitive soul… possibly with a few problems (great if you’re the kind of person who attracts the kind of people who want to ‘fix’ broken, troubled minds) like a wounded wanker, then you’ll probably have a decent success rate when luring the fragile into something of a relationship, which you can then contort into whatever nefarious direction you like!

GREAT!

And Ricki Lake was no exception as she became “infatuated” with a Brit she met on the web. Talking to Newsweek, she said:

“When I was single two years ago, I decided I wanted a boyfriend for my birthday. My friends thought I was crazy for online dating.”

The relationship progressed very quickly (surprise!) and she even met with immigration lawyers so she could marry this sneaky bozo!

“I found this narcissist online and started a whirlwind relationship where I was delusional. I was with a guy who was a total user and liar. He was English and considered himself a poet.

She should’ve ran a mile at ‘poet’. Other professions to avoid are ‘musician’, ‘writer’, ‘celebrity gossip blogger’, ‘painter’ and absolutely anyone who says they’ve served in the armed forces.

“He was more charismatic than physically beautiful but I became infatuated with him very quickly. I was out of my mind in some ways. I wanted it so badly I lost all clarity… I was going to marry him so he could get a green card. I even went to England with him and met his mother. He was such a bad guy. I was the only one who didn’t see the signs… I found out from my housekeeper that he would be nice to my children in front of my face but would cringe about them behind my back.”

The bastard!

“After six weeks, I looked in the mirror and didn’t recognise myself. I had lost all sense of who I was. I realised it was not working. As soon as I saw the light, it was over. I didn’t cry a tear about this guy. I dumped him.”

HURRAY!

And now, Ricki Lake has found love with some bloke called Christian Evans but we don’t care about that really. All we want to do is shout…

GO RICKI! GO RICKI! GO RICKI! GO RICKI!

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You all remember Kim Kardashian, right? She’s the business woman and entrepreneur who is also the star of her own reality television series with her whole family. She’s worth a bit of cash is Kim but, in keeping with the American dream, vacuous idiots can always have more.

Is Kim Kardashian a vacuous idiot? IS SHE? WE ASKED IF YOU THOUGHT KIMMY K WAS A BLITHERING NINCOMPOOP?

No, of course she isn’t. Why?

Well, you might remember (or have had it forced down your throat by us every two days for the last month) that Kim was married to a young gentleman called Kris Humphries. Their marriage lasted something like 70 days before it was declared that they were splitting up citing “musical differences” or some such nonsense.

Many people with an iota of sense have claimed that the marriage was a stitch-up job, designed to allow Kim to sell the TV rights to her inspiring ‘life after Kris’ story and make a mint in the process. You’re probably thinking “Oh no! Poor Kris Humphries that I’ve never heard of before!” Don’t worry. He’s in on it too.

That makes Kim Kardashian a very intelligent woman indeed. Imagine the show! Think Katie Price’s documentary after her split with middle-parting extraordinaire Peter Andre. But with a bigger arse and a bigger budget.

Sounds exciting, doesn’t it? The chance to see a grown woman pretend to be heartbroken for the benefit of a camera crew. Still, she’s got to keep the illusion up and who better to “set the record straight” than Kim’s very own Mum.

Dear ol’ Mama Jenner told Now! Magazine:

‘It certainly wasn’t a sham or something for TV,’

It certainly was.

‘We have enough going on that we don’t need to make things up.’

They don’t have to make things up. They have enough going on. They’ve just finished redecorating the Moon Base and they’re now moving on to upgrade the engines in Mrs Jenner’s Krispy Kreme sponsored Donut Rocket.

‘Kim really felt like she was in love with money Kris Humphries. It was an amazing time. Like all of us that were watching, I had no idea there was a problem.’

Perhaps if they had done a ‘Newlyweds’ style show, the American public could have seen the cracks forming! Everyone likes to see a couple hurtle perpetually towards a messy divorce.

‘It saddens me that one of the rumours is we sold the TV rights, which isn’t true. And that she profited from the wedding is absolutely not true.’

It’s not true, y’hear? Not true. That’s her mum saying that and she would have been involved in the negotiation of any TV rights so you can rest assured that it’s all poppycock.

‘She feels like she’s let a lot of people down. She’s sick about it.’

That’s true. It hasn’t been the same since Stuart Heritage left.

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For some reason, we’ve credited you slobs with some intelligence. Christ knows why. We’ve read the comments you leave. Either way, some of you ain’t so bad. Some of you have probably only seen Jersey Shore out of morbid curiosity.

If you watched it, you probably thought ‘By Jove! This is faker than Kim Kardashian’s wedding!‘

If you’ve been watching the antics of Snooki & Co, thinking that it’s BLATES REAL (or whatever you wobbling colostomy bags say these days), then we’ve got news for you. And someone with more spare time has made a video which proves it. OKAY?

The scene in question concerns Snooki and Deena having a fight in a bar.

Remember that?

No, not THIS fight involving Snooki…

It’s a different one. That said, the above video looks grimly real. No, this one involved a hissy fit in a bar and it looked for all the world that a bartender lobbed ice at Snooki and Deena which saw them trashing the place.

Have a look.

It’s clearly all bollocks.

Legally, we should say that MTV’s response was “It’s all real, and we couldn’t make this all up.”

You don’t care do you?

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“hecklersprayers, I’m getting a man. He’s got blondey-brown hair with a reddy tinge and he might wear glasses? Or shoes? His name begins with a D…no? An S? Still no-one? T? Ah yes. Is it Terry? Tommy you say. He says that he’s sorry and that he’s forgiven you.”

Which is the cue for the audience member to burst into tears and hail Sally Morgan as some modern day Jesus, except with a few more pounds in her bank account. He knows it’s not about the money, money, money. It’s all about the kick ass robes.

Which is what it’s been for years now. Sally Morgan has steadfastly made a name for herself as being an authentic psychic, even though there’s not really such a thing; Spreading messages from beyond the grave to bored housewives, people who should know better and professional vagina-heads Katie Price and Diana, Princess of Hearts (may she rest in peace… or, y’know, pestered by psychics in the afterlife).

But now there’s a bit of a psychic hoohah going on as footage of Sally Morgan removing an earpiece after a show has arisen on her own YouTube channel and some members of one of her audiences claim that they have heard someone in a back room of a Dublin theatre passing information onto Morgan via the medium of actual technology. Which is probably one of the most legal things to happen in a Dublin theatre back room, eh, [reference to X Factor judge removed].

On the face of it, it makes it look like Morgan has been entirely disingenuous about her claims to talk to spirits and various other mythical beasts*. Why does she need to have an earpiece in? Surely that just clashes with all those spirits queuing up to use her mouth as a portal to the realm of the living. Or using her eyes to look at those scandalous pictures of Scarlett Johansson. And unless she has a legion of psychics at her command, like a telepathic Justice League, there’s not really much need for her to have someone feeding information to her IF THAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED.

To help Morgan out of this paranormal pickle, sceptical scientists have set up an experiment for her to prove that she has fancy medium powers, and isn’t a dirty rotten scoundrel. Fantastic right? Imagine how fantastic it would be to say that you are an accredited psychic. People would want to sit next to you on the bus if you were an accredited psychic. This whole experiment thing could only result a good thing, right?

So it probably won’t surprise you to hear that Morgan had no intention of turning up to the experiment, mainly because everyone suspects her career to be a jug of horsepiss, or, possibly because she has an “extremely rare” illness and her doctor has advised her not to travel by plane, train or automobile.

Her legal representative, Graham Atkins has emailed the wonderful writer Simon Singh saying these words:

“You well know that we all have far more important things to do than take part in this or any other ‘test’ at this point. She will not attend at Liverpool or at any other time.”

Sounds like a bit of a cock doesn’t he? Not because he’s making Sally Morgan look like a prize weapon, but because he’s totally cock blocking any attempt at debunking paranormal pranksters.

Looks like its just down to us and Derren Brown.

* Rumour has it Sally Morgan meets…The Kraken will be a hit of the Christmas TV line up.

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Chocolate! It’s a wonderful invention. Not only did it get thousands of American soldiers laid during the second world war, it’s also a tasty treat that you can give your kids. Your kids who will die of a fatty liver by the time they’re 25. Not only that, it’s an indulgent treat for you to force down your gullet at every available second while telling yourself that it’s just a little slip-up.

It might not surprise you to learn that there are loads of ways to advertise chocolate because it’s such a universally beloved product. The big question is that of the target market. If there isn’t an established target market for product then we end up with mad-eyed children, planting ideas about milk chocolate in your head through a hypnotic eyebrow dance.

That kind of confusion might spark ‘water-cooler’ conversation but it doesn’t make anyone want to eat a bar of Dairy Milk, no matter what anyone claims.

That hardly matters though. Especially when there’s women around to advertise to. Remember how we tell you, almost every week, that advertising companies think that everyone fits into two or three snug categories that they can tailor their advertising to?

Yes? Good.

Well, aside from playing up the notion that women love chocolate and that some are cold-blooded thieves, it seems that advertisers have now resorted to editing old adverts as the recession bites the advertising budget of the big companies and forces them into revisiting successful adverts from the past.

This isn’t the version of the advert with the edit, unfortunately. It’s probably seen as being so trivial by the pedants of youtube that no-one has even bothered to upload a version, clumsily shot on a camera phone. This means that our creative faculties will be put to the test as we try to point out the subtle change.

IT’S THE CHOCOLATE! The next time the ad comes on television, remember this moment. Keep in mind everything we’re about to tell you:

THE CHOCOLATE BAR IS CGI! LOOK AT IT! IT’S NOT REAL CHOCOLATE! IT’S FAKE!

Right, we’re off to accuse Editor Mof of eating our bar of Galaxy. Unfortunately, we’re not smart enough to keep one hidden away so we’ll just beat him to death and consume him instead. Cannibalism is much better than badly edited chocolate.

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Here at hecklerspray we love to get involved in the great big sexism debate that rears its head every time Editor Mof slaps one of the female writers on the arse and tells them that they’re doing a great job “for a bird”. After that, the ensuing three day wildcat strike by our female staff will come to an end and everything will return to normal. Until next week.

It will come as no surprise to many of our readers that things don’t actually go that way at all and that it is the male writers who live in fear of their colleagues sexually harassing them while belting out ‘Swagger Jagger’ by Cher Lloyd at the tops of their voices. We don’t dare call it caterwauling because they can and will slash our faces.

The hecklerspray bedsit is a liberated feminist zone… of fear.

You’ve consumed Orangina before, of course. The sparkling orange flavour drink with bits in which, if served at the right temperature, can make you feel as cultured and French as a Parisian dandy but if served at half a degree more or less than it’s supposed to tastes like sucking dog vomit through an unwashed pair of underpants.

It’s been the market leader in sparkling orange flavour drinks with bits in for decades now but Club Orange has brought its irritatingly 80s-named product kicking and screaming to the Irish market (for some reason) in an effort to pull the market share from their orange-drink-with-bits-in rivals. Of course, they’ve taken a leaf out of the alcohol industry’s book and decided to market their product entirely at dribbling, masturbating fiends with less of a moral compass than Ashley Cole in a whorehouse.

It’s all about bits. Lady bits, to be precise.

You’ll remember last week when Badvertising focussed on the names that women might have for their vaginas. Unfortunately, there’s only one name in this entire sixty seconds used to describe both breasts, buttocks and vaginas. That’s bits. You see, the term ‘bits’ can be used to describe pretty much any erogenous zone on the body. ‘Bits’ can be anything really and these ladies seem to have the best bits going.

In case you haven’t watched the video yet it is one minute long. Sixty seconds. The best quickfire comedians could probably manage to squeeze (ha!) around twenty jokes into that short time but instead the people from Club Orange have gone for one joke, hammered home like a double homicide carried out with a mallet. They’ve murdered humour, they’ve murdered snappy advertising, they’ve actually managed to murder the spirit of innuendo and, somewhere out there, fourteen year old boys are bludgeoning another blunt instrument not even considering that they might want some sparkling orange flavour drink with bits in.

Unfortunately, in accentuating the ‘bits’ of the women in the ad (and by ‘bits’ we mean breasts, let’s not mince our words), they’ve made their ‘bits’ look worryingly artificial which makes a question nag at the back of the viewer’s mind. What are the orange bits in this sparkling orange flavour drink with bits in actually made out of?

Silicone.

The only way for Club Orange to redeem themselves in the eyes of right-thinking males and females who want to partake of an orange flavoured drink with bits in without having their sexuality either undermined or mocked would surely be to do a counter advert where men openly flaunt their ‘bits’ for the titillation of women. They won’t though and if they ever do, we want a cut for having the idea.

We also want Editor Mof to appear in it.

Our demands are very, very simple.

Kim Kardashian may well be getting married and starring in a show with her sisters despite lacking in any discernible talent, but that doesn’t stop people admiring her buttocks. In many respects, her chebs are more famous than Kardashian’s sisters.

Her famous posterior has seen people admiring how well formed it is, assuming that it must be fake in some way.

And so, to scotch rumours that she’s had bumplants, Kim Kardashian has decided to stand next to a light board and point at an x-ray of an arse to prove that her rump is 100% Armenian or something. And yes, if you’re a fan of staring at a woman pointing toward translucent arse bones, we’ve got the picture.

The rumours that Kardashian has got under the knife for her backside have been around for ages, and so the reality star has decided to use up a doctor’s time unwisely by getting someone to photograph her pelvis without taking her skin off.

And so, to the thrill of the world, Kardashian has now revealed what the inside of her famous derriere looks like.

Kim’s sister Khloe tweeted (yes, we follow her on twitter so you don’t have to) a snap of Kim looking hallowed out and without vitality, next to an x-ray of what could be absolutely anyone’s arsecheeks.

Khloe captioned the picture:

“She’s all natural baby! Kim got a butt X-Ray… See, it’s real! LOL… Nothing like a good old Armenian ass to get your day going!”

How wonderful.

And here it is. Have a look for yourself. Aren’t you glad to be alive in this cruel, cruel world? Remember this day for we’ll seldom see its like again.

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Martial arts legend and screen icon Jackie Chan survived his own death yesterday, proving once again that he is definitely much harder than Ross Kemp.

But that really isn’t saying much.

Jackie Chan became a top trending topic on Twitter worldwide after rumours of his death began to circulate on the micro messaging site. Now, far be it from us to criticise the users of Twitter, but how stupid do you have to be to rely on it as your primary source of news about celebrity deaths?

Surely that’s what hecklerspray is for?

The dribbling morons who specialise in retweeting anything and everything they see, in some vain hope that people will care about what content they’re pissing into the vast ocean of pointless information, began spreading the news around almost immediately after the initial Jackie Chan RIP tweet was… erm… tweeted.

God forbid people would actually check to see whether a story was true before they spread it around, even we here in the hecklerspray bedsit took the time to consult our good friend Google for confirmation of Chan’s death, only to be disappointed by the news he was still alive and had also recently starred in some sort of bizarre remake of Vin Diesel’s opus, The Pacifier.

We’re putting this down to the fact that people want to be the first to break the news to you that someone famous has died. A few years ago this was done with text messages, we all remember receiving text messages informing us that Michael Jackson or Heath Ledger had died.

But no one cares about texting any more because we have Twitter, which is like texting only on a larger scale and infinitely more annoying. But because Twitter is instant you have to be quick, so those few seconds you spent Googling the facts could be the difference between being retweeted or having to retweet.

It was either that or an extremely bizarre viral campaign by Channel 5 in the UK, who were showing one of Chan’s more commercially successful films, Rush Hour, on their digital sister station 5* last night.

The best moment of this story came from the London trending topics on Twitter though, where Jackie Chan’s name appeared right next to the hashtag, #thingsblackfolksscaredof.

Come to think of it, Chris Tucker did look a little uneasy during Rush Hour…

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Dwayne Johnson a.k.a. The Rock a.k.a. The Great One a.k.a. The Brahma Bull a.k.a. The People’s Champion a.k.a. The Scorpion King has decided that now is the time for him to don his famous trunks once more and return to the world of professional wrestling.

That’s right folks. Finally, the Rock HAS COME BACK to the WWE.

While wrestling fans all over the globe doff their beer-hats and wipe a greasy tear from their collective faces with a podgy, cheese covered finger, we here at hecklerspray can only wonder what has caused The Rock to make such a grandiose return to Vince McMahon’s proverbial dead horse, which by now has been flogged more times than anyone cares to pay attention to.

After all, stripping to your undies and covering yourself in baby oil so you can give another man a special cuddle just screams, “my career is going well.”

For those of you who weren’t teenage shut-ins in the ‘90s, before Dwayne Johnson was laying the smacketh down in such films as The Tooth Fairy and Race to Witch Mountain, he used wrestle for, what was then, the World Wrestling Federation. It’s a bit like that roller derby thing that girls seem to be so into at the moment, except with shirtless men covered in baby oil.

Johnson’s alter ego was named The Rock and he was both the People’s Champion and the most electrifying man in Sports Entertainment. He would regularly raise the People’s Eyebrow and drop the People’s Elbow at the request of the millions (and millions) of Rock fans all over the world.

The Rock epitomised the golden era of the WWF, now called the WWE after some pandas kicked up a fuss (pandas, incidentally, the reigning WWF world champions by default) , which was known as the Attitude Era and featured such greats as Stone Cold Steve Austin, D-Generation X (before the gimmick was done to death) and a fat bloke in a cowboy hat known as Good Ol’ J.R.

But alas, the Rock abandoned his fans to go off and find legitimate fame, fame he wouldn’t have to be ashamed of… and probably some nicer looking fans too.

Hollywood seemed to have other ideas though, they just couldn’t smell what the Rock was cookin’ and so, after 7 long years in the wilderness of bad kids films, Dwayne has crammed his Johnson back into that trunks and elbow pads combo that he knows all too well.

Destined to spend the rest of his days as a monkey dancing for the entertainment of people who think Sarah Palin would make a great President.

Bad luck Dwayne. We guess you’ve finally hit Rock Bottom. Or the People’s Bottom. Whatever.

This post was written by Kris Silver with the assistance of Wrestling aficionado, Michael Eckett.

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In a move that isn’t designed in any shape or form to milk Michael Jackson fans dry, it had been planned by the Jackson estate to release an album full of unreleased material. Looking at our calendars it seems a slight convenience that Christmas is around the corner. Imagine the surprise on little Jimmy’s face as he tears off the wrapping paper and can celebrate Jesus’ birthday listening to a collection of new poptastic hits by his favourite dead pop star.

To Michael Jackson fans who constantly crave anything related to the singer, the possible release of a new album would most certainly result in bottles of Jesus Juice being uncorked.

However, despite their wackiness, they aren’t stupid enough to know that Joe Jackson has been whipping his corpse to force Michael to record a brand new album, recorded six feet under. The tracks are all “unreleased”, or in real terms. “Songs that didn’t make the cut from albums at the time because they were so awful that they weren’t even good enough, even for Janet Jackson.”

Suffice to say that any new material could see fans discovering an experimental side to Michael Jackson. Our spies have told us that tracks include Jackson yodelling instructions for making a good cup of coffee over some acid jazz and living up to his wacko name by singing the lyrics to some of the songs backwards! If you’re anything like us, a cold shower and quick lie down are in order to recover from this news.

Basically, if you do have any remote hopes that you’ll get another ‘Thriller’ or ‘Man In The Mirror’ then you might as well go and get someone to dangle you over a Berlin hotel balcony.

After shaking those idiotic thoughts out of your brain, prepare yourself for some mediocre rubbish that if released by another artist, would be laughed at by critics. But then again, Michael Jackson fans are a strange breed who’ll no doubt squeal in delight over anything new from him.

Even if there was a seven minute recording of Jackson spewing his ring out after eating a dodgy kebab.

So you’d half expect that any unreleased songs from Michael Jackson would be locked in a secure vault and hidden deep underground. That way, they’d be no chance of the songs leaking on to the internet or imposters releasing fakes online, they’d be easily identifiable as a forgery or the real deal wouldn’t they?

This would seem straight forward and simple, but nothing comes easy in the Jackson household. Like a scene out of a bad sitcom, the estate is flapping over the legitimacy of songs recorded in 2007 as they don’t believe they contain Jackson’s vocals. Digital Spy reports:

“The release of the previously unheard material has been thrown into chaos because the Jackson family believe that several tracks recorded in 2007 do not contain Michael’s vocals. His children are allegedly being asked if their father was present in New Jersey at the time of the recordings. A forensic audiologist has also been asked to analyse the tracks to determine if they feature the ‘Thriller’ star.”

Unless there is a clone of Michael Jackson somewhere, then surely it wouldn’t be that difficult to determine if it was him or not. For starters, if it was a woman singing then we can rule it as a fake. After all, Jackson couldn’t switch genders, so it might be best to let the fans decide if was the King of Sleepovers on record and not Jermaine or Tito being pesky imposters.

There is a bright side to all of this. If the album doesn’t get released in time for Christmas, then Jackson Cluedo could be released. Fun for all the family as everyone tries to work out if it was Janet Jackson in the recording studio with her terrible voice… and of course, you can all yell “Dr Conrad did it! In the study with the lethal injection!”

Well, you lot seem convinced anyway.

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The first time Lindsay Lohan was ever accused of stealing, it was by an unattractive female DJ who then pretended she couldn’t find her heart.

The next time she was accused of stealing it was by the Mexican government – who claimed they couldn’t find Monterrey or three of its suburbs after she stayed there for a long weekend.

The third time she was accused of stealing, allegations included allusions to corporate espionage and reports of illicit Hollywood spray tans.

That last one - it’s unfolding even as we speak.

When Lindsay Lohan isn’t taping two different roles for Disney movie sequels about legalising identical twin incest (or something), she likes to dress in black, sneak into Coca Cola headquarters after hours and rummage through file cabinets looking for that stupid syrup recipe. We’ve heard that once she finds it she just wants to add something that’ll make it a little more egg-noggy.

“Because every day would taste like Christmas,” that’s what we heard she always says. It’s ridiculous, really.

Actually, Lohan probably hasn’t ever really broken into Coke headquarters – but that’s not to say she hasn’t had her skinny little hands in other sorts of corporate thievery. For instance, the Daily News says this:

“[Lohan] is being sued by a St. Petersburg, Fla., chemist for stealing the formula for her sunless tanning spray. Jennifer Sunday filed the lawsuit in Tampa, Fla. Federal court against Lohan and Lorit Simon, a Las Vegas businesswoman who air-brush tans celebrities and partnered up with Lohan to produce Sevin Nyne. Lilo and Simon claim credit for creating the tanning spray over the last three years. But Sunday’s attorney, Marcia Cohen, insists her client only recently perfected the formula used in the spray tan. According to the St. Petersburg Times, Sunday is suing Lohan, Simon, and Simon’s company for breach of contract, theft of trade secrets, civil conspiracy, intentional interference with contractual relations and deceptive and unfair trade practices.”

Well that sounds downright serious. Don’t worry though. We have a feeling that if deciding who actually invented the spray tan gets all the way to court, Lindsay will be able to supply several stained lab coats and cracked protective eye-wear as solid evidence that she was extremely hands-on since day one. Also we’re pretty sure Nostradamus mentioned something about Lohan’s fake tannery several years ago. It’s in the book of Nostradamus Genesis we think. Chapter 3.

If the Lohan lawyer gets a chance to say any of that in court, he really probably should. After all, several needy Hollywood complexions are at stake here. Can you imagine having to watch a Twilight sequel where the actors are even whiter?

Get your nozzles ready Lilo, your services are required.

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Remember when Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt from The Hills got married and everyone wondered if it was the biggest non-event in all of history?

Guess what – it wasn’t! According to all sorts of horribly depressing reports, Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt aren’t going to legally formalise their Mexican wedding! It was all a great big waste of everyone’s time!

But, really, Heidi and Spencer should know that fake weddings are so passe – next time they want headlines they should try something more original, like getting caught in a bear trap or developing asbestos poisoning or playing frisbee with some landmines or something.

Of all the things that happened in 2008 – like the US presidential election, the credit crunch, the Virginia Tech shooting, the death of Heath Ledger – nothing was bigger than the marriage between The Hills stars Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt. We’re being serious.

Heidi and Spencer’s marriage had everything – two utterly repulsive braying bellends adrift on an ocean of their own epic self-absorption who have never spent more than five seconds in the company of anyone else without becoming the subjects of a violently imagined stab-fantasy, and… um, no, actually in retrospect that’s all it had.

But never mind. It was sort of entertaining – thanks to everyone’s initial repulsion, the backdraft of even smaller celebrities trying to make their name by commenting on it and the world’s bitterest mother-in-law, Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt’s wedding wasn’t a complete waste of time.

True, the marriage wasn’t valid because it was conducted in Mexico with an hour’s notice and everything,, but that didn’t matter – Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt were going to formalise their wedding on return to America, thereby reducing the world’s total of single cockstumps by a grand total of two. And once they were married, maybe Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt could create a baby so awful that it would absorb all of the world’s evil and then destroy itself, ushering in the Age of Aquarius for all mankind.

Except, no. Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt aren’t properly married and, what do you know, in the final episode of The Hills it turned out that they’re probably never going to be either. But, hey, at least they didn’t wait until the last possible second to decide, like in the middle of swapping their vows during the ceremony, did they? Oh, who are we kidding. People reports:

When it was Spencer’s turn to promise til death, he hesitated and said, “I want to marry you right now. If you in your heart are horrified that we’re in a courthouse and your mom is crying and not talking to you, we don’t have to do this.” Heidi started crying. Spencer relented “We can’t do this. I’ll give you the wedding of your dreams and I will deal with it. I’m sorry. We’ll do it the way you want.” They exited the courtroom.

Ugh. You know what this means? It means that, by the next season of The Hills we’ll have to put up with even more endless wedding preparation followed by a big fairytale ceremony that, we’re guessing, will also be cancelled at the last minute when Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt look into each others’ eyes and realise there’s nothing but a throbbing empty vortex there. And that’ll be followed by another cancelled wedding. And another one. And another one. Until everyone dies of boredom.

But, look, it’s Christmas – let’s look on the bright side. By not getting married to Heidi Montag, this means that Spencer Pratt is technically still single. Form a queue, ladies! Ladies? Where has everyone gone?

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Everyone can calm down now, the panic’s over – Michael Jackson’s lungs aren’t disgusting scab-covered peanuts after all.

Yes, we know there was a report yesterday claiming that Michael Jackson needed a lung transplant because he suffers from a potentially fatal genetic condition that has also destroyed his eyesight, but Michael Jackson is adamant that it’s untrue.

And if anyone says that Michael Jackson has a set of knackered lungs and rubbish vision, then he’ll hunt you down like a dog. But only if it’s in a well-lit environment. And it shouldn’t involve any running, either – he wears out easily, you know.

If you’re a Michael Jackson fan who hasn’t been put off by the years of broken promises, allegations of child molestation, inexplicably unpredictable behaviour, repeated claims of financial irregularity and gruesome exploding lips, then you’re about to get the best Christmas present of all – Michael Jackson isn’t about to die an excruciatingly painful death that involves him gasping for air that his body can no longer process!

Several alarming reports emerged yesterday, seeming to suggest that Michael Jackson urgently needed a lung transplant. This, claimed Michael Jackson biographer Ian Halperin, was because Jackson suffers from the rare genetic disorder Alpha-1 antitrypsin deficiency, which has given him emphysema, chronic gastrointestinal bleeding and has caused him to lose 95% vision in his left eye.

As such, it was said that if Michael Jackson didn’t get the lung transplant soon he’d quickly become a weak, inert, near-mute figure of public pity isolated from the rest of the world and unable to honour any professional commitments. So he’d basically be exactly the same as he already is, but with slightly more blood-vomiting.

However, forget all that crap. Michael Jackson is alive and well and his lungs are in tip-top conditions and to prove it he’ll do 50 star-jumps on his front lawn right now. Or, as an alternative, Michael Jackson will release a statement dismissing these claims that will be absolutely incontrovertible because it’s written by a man with a fake-sounding name who says he’s not only a doctor but also ‘Michael Jackson’s official and sole spokesman’. Take it away, Dr. Tohme Tohme:

“Concerning [Halperin's] allegations, we would hope in the future that legitimate media will not continue to be exploited by such an obvious attempt to promote this unauthorised biography… The writer’s wild allegations concerning Mr. Jackson’s health are a total fabrication. Mr. Jackson is in fine health and finalising negotiations with a major entertainment company and television network for both a world tour and a series of specials and appearances.”

This will come as wonderful news for all of Michael Jackson’s fans around the world. The reason why Michael Jackson hasn’t announced a new album or tour isn’t because he’s going to die of a terrifying lung disorder any time soon. It’s because he hates you. Or something. Either way, hooray!

The real winner of this palaver, though, is definitely Ian Halperin. By claiming that Michael Jackson is dying of an awful disease, he’s ensured that his biography will get a lot more publicity than it otherwise would have done. It’s a neat trick, and also the reason why Hecklerspray Industries will soon be publishing a number of completely untrue biographies such as Madonna’s Got Chlamydia, Robert Pattinson From Twilight Definitely Has Autoimmune Polyendocrinopathy Syndrome and What’s Up With Jennifer Aniston’s Eyelid? She Should Probably Get That Looked At.

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Bad news – if you want to see what Jimi Hendrix looks like having sex, you’ll either need a time machine or a shovel and some puppet strings.

Because, we’re sad to report, the much-vaunted Jimi Hendrix sex tape has been exposed as a lie. True, the man having sex looks a whole lot like Jimi Hendrix, but Experience Hendrix – the company which controls Jimi Hendrix’s rights – is now claiming that the tape is a fraud.

And if Experience Hendrix says that the Jimi Hendrix sex tape is a fake, then that’s the truth. It should know better than anyone because it’s made up of members of the Hendrix family. All families have the moral obligation to exactly memorise what their long-dead relatives looked like during sex for this precise reason. We have – have you?

Now, we know you’re bound to be disappointed here, because we all love watching undignified 40-year-old memory-desecrating videos of long-dead people schtupping each other, but the massively-hyped Jimi Hendrix sex tape might just be a fake.

We know, we know, we’re sad as well. After the crushing disappointment we felt when the Marilyn Monroe sex tape was locked away forever, we were hoping that the Jimi Hendrix sex tape would be our once in a lifetime chance to combine ghoulish masturbation with uncomfortable besmirching of the dead, but it’s not to be – at least not until the Princess Diana sex tape gets released.

Anyway, prepare to be let down – according to the Jimi Hendrix rights company Experience Hendrix, the Jimi Hendrix sex tape is nothing more that a filthy lie, as Reuters reports:

“We strongly dispute the claimed authenticity of the tape,” Experience Hendrix said in a statement. “We view the release as nothing more than a callous attempt to trade on the image and reputation of a deceased artist who is unable to defend himself against such an outrageous and baseless assertion,” the Seattle-based company added.

However, Vivid Entertainment – the company distributing the Jimi Hendrix sex tape – isn’t going down without a fight. Vivid says that it’s absolutely Jimi Hendrix in the Jimi Hendrix sex tape because a woman who dunked his cock into a plaster mould once four decades ago says it is. And old lady cock-dunkers are the most honest people on earth. Seriously, we’ve got one as an accountant:

Steven Hirsch, co-chairman of Vivid, said in his own statement on Thursday that Experience Hendrix’s comments were “not in any way a refutation of the authenticity” of the tape. “We are very comfortable this is the real thing,” Hirsch said.

That’s a good argument, but we’re just going to have to go with our guts despite their being no conclusive proof here – we get the feeling that the Jimi Hendrix sex tape is probably fake.

Still, let’s not get too down about it. There’s still the Jimi Hendrix energy drink, and so long as that still contains trace amounts of Jimi Hendrix’s sperm, we’ll be happy. It has got Jimi’s spunk in it, right?

Read more:

Jimi Hendrix company says sex tape not genuine – Reuters