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.

You! Follow hecklerspray on Twitter!

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?

You! Follow hecklerspray on Twitter!

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.

You! Follow hecklerspray on Twitter!

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

You know, Kristin Davis. The uppity one from Sex And The City. There's a Kristin Davis sex tape. And there's not even a second of 1980s power-ballad in there at all. Take that, Simmons.

Except, wait, buckle your belt back up – Kristin Davis says that the Kristin Davis sex tape is a phony. That's not her in the sex tape gobbling on a man's genitals or in the accompanying pictures sitting on a toilet with her minge sticking out, Kristin says. She only knows because in the real Kristin Davis sex tape she's wearing a pony saddle, a pair of safety goggles and is covered head-to-toe in bacon. We heard.

Of all the stars of Sex And The City, Kristin Davis is the one you'd hope made a sex tape. A Kim Cattrall sex tape would be largely pointless because she's such a slag on the TV show, a Cynthia Nixon sex tape would be weird because – although a lesbian – she's also fiercely ginger, and we daren't even contemplate a Sarah Jessica Parker sex tape. Bleurgh.

So a Kristin Davis sex tape it is, not just because of a strange, freshly-invented default system but also because she's the most beautiful woman in the world. So imagine everyone's delight yesterday, then, when what was claimed to be a Kristin Davis sex tape and set of explicit photographs were found all over the internet.

Truly, it was the lucky strike of celebrity internet sex tapes – less nauseating than the Gene Simmons sex tape, less emotionally troubling than the Screech from Saved By The Bell sex tape and less hopelessly obscure than the Kim Kardashian sex tape, the Kristin Davis sex tape featured a pretty girl who you'd never expect to be filthy doing nasty things to a man. Perfect.

Except that, as far as she's concerned, the Kristin Davis sex tape is more of a Meg White-style fake sex tape. She's denied the whole bloody thing. The San Francisco Chronicle reports:

"Sex and the City" actress Kristin Davis has laughed off reports she is the star of an Internet sex tape, according to TMZ.com. Pictures have swept the Internet, appearing to show the clean-cut 43-year-old engaging in a sex act, with the promise of an explicit tape. But Davis' representative insists, "This is not a photo of Kristin Davis. There is no sex tape."

You'd think that a simple denial would clear everything up, but it hasn't. Other reports are saying that the Kristin Davis sex tape is fake but the pictures are absolutely real and taken in 1992 by an ex-boyfriend. Which could be true. The naked Kristin Davis photos are here for you to decide how real they are, but be warned – not only is the link not safe for work, it will also lead to images containing more public hair that you'll have ever seen, unless you've ever had a job sweeping up at a Russian bikini wax salon in the late eighties.  

We have to admit that the timing of the Kristin Davis sex tape and naked photos is a little suspect. In the next few months, the Sex And The City movie is being released, and suddenly we see some candid photos of one of its stars having sex? What if this is some form of unconventional marketing campaign?

Lord, we hope not – if it is, then the Sarah Jessica Parker sex tape can only be weeks away. We're going to avoid eating any solids until the film's released as a precaution.

Read more:

Davis Denies Sex Tape Reports – SF Chronicle 

Because, come on, two and a half stars out of five for an album by The Black Crowes? That's a bit bloody generous by anyone's standards.

Anyway, now that The Black Crowes have kicked up an almighty stink about Maxim's fake Warpaint review, the magazine has been forced into issuing a humiliating apology that's bound to harm its readership. After all, how are horny teenage boys expected to wank themselves into a sticky mess over pictures of Megan Fox in a bikini now they know that a blues-oriented hard rock jam-band got given an invented but probably accurate review in a previous issue?

You might think that the average Maxim reader would be too busy scouring pictures of Eva Longoria in her knickers for traces of cameltoe to pay attention to any of the music reviews because, face it, what is a CD to the average Maxim reader if not a shiny, perfectly-round girlfriend with a sex hole in the middle?

Nevertheless, although Maxim readers couldn't give a stuff about its album reviews, the bands that make the albums obviously seem to. That was the case when The Black Crowes noticed that their new album Warpaint gained a mediocre two and a half out of five stars in the new issue of Maxim. Which was weird, since there were no advance copies of Warpaint around at the time.

Now, we know what you're thinking. You're thinking that this Black Crowes album is going to be as full of the same guffy old uninspired retrogressive Rolling Stones/ Lynyrd Skynyrd claptrap as the last Black Crowes album, and the one before that, and the one before that, and you're probably right.

But this didn't stop The Black Crowes from throwing a gigantic shitty tantrum about it until Maxim revealed that it hadn't actually heard the album all the way through and was merely making an 'educated guess' about it, even though anyone with the slightest amount of education would see that the Maxim review was about four stars kinder than it really had any right to be.

Still, Maxim has finally decided to properly apologise for the mix-up anyway, as BBC News reports:

Maxim editorial director James Kaminsky said in a statement: "It is Maxim's editorial policy to assign star ratings only to those albums that have been heard in their entirety. "Unfortunately, that policy was not followed in the March 2008 issue of our magazine and we apologise to our readers." A spokeswoman for the magazine refused to say if the journalist responsible would face disciplinary action.

As amateurish a mistake this was, at least it has forced some real change in the Maxim editorial department. For instance, when The Black Crowes release their next album, Maxim has decided to do the right thing and admit that it hasn't heard the album, reveal that it'd rather ram pounds of Anthrax down its cockhole with a splintery twig than ever actually listen to anything by The Black Crowes anyway and then quietly refer its readers to page 56 where they can see a lovely picture of Jessica Simpson's tits which is probably more their sort of thing anyway.

Read more:

Maxim 'sorry' over fake CD review – BBC

We were sceptical at first as the plate containing them slid under our half-ton steel door. They were piled in a sloppy pyramid next to green beans and some tough chicken. We pushed them around with our fork for a bit, then stabbed one to bring it up for a sniff. It smelled potato-ish, this was refreshing. Also, we individually spun a dozen of them on our right-pointy finger at the same time. This looked totally awesome. Then we used the tater tots to circumvent the in-house security system and knock out lots of guards until we gained our freedom.

Once outside the perimeters, we touched the sweet sweet tots to our lips and experienced a taste explosion unparallelled by any we'd ever experienced before. When we came to we realised this was because we'd coincidentally been tazed just then, but still. The tots were good, man.

Actually, none of that was true. We've never been to prison, and if we had we're sure we'd be permanently too scared to eat. Our potato review stands though, because you don't need to taste a tot to know it'd be delicious. It's kind of the way Maxim reviews albums apparently – without listening to them at all. It seems they did that to the Black Crowes just recently here.

Usually when any of the Black Crowes make a hecklerspray story it's because they're all dating Owen Wilson at the same time again or something. That happened once until the drummer wanted Wilson all to himself. Then there was talk of a band break-up and people started shooting up with liquefied pixie stix and stuff. It got ugly. Wilson made it really ugly.

We think that's how it went. We actually don't have specifics. This time, though, the band made it onto hecklerspray because they are about to release their first album in seven years – it's called Warpaint. The album has a song-by-song plot in which the protagonist keeps slicing open the chests of evil 1950s style red communist devils until justice is finally restored in track 12. It's actually pretty moving except #7 – that one's just an over-indulgent pile in which the main guy longs for his motherland. Gay.

We haven't heard it actually, but neither has Maxim magazine, who wrote a review of it any way. They gave it 2 1/2 stars out of five, and said:

"…it hasn’t left Chris Robinson and the gang much room for growth."

The problem there is actual review copies of the album haven't been issued by the band yet – they're all probably sitting in a pile on a desk at Black Crowe HQ. This can mean only three things – either the reviewer illegally downloaded a leaked copy, he's a future-seeing gypsy woman, or he hasn't even heard it but got paid for his review anyway. The band's manager stated he was told by the magazine the review was an 'educated guess.'

That sounds brilliant to us. Reviewing without knowing would make our jobs so much easier. For instance, Indiana Jones' crystal skull movie is pretty good until you realise that noise is actually Ford's bones creaking. Also, Tupac's next inevitable posthumous record is made of spliced cuts from a Shakur family 1981 Christmas video tape. At first the thrill of a young rapper opening presents is invigorating, but once you realise there's only like two rhymes for Legos… blah. And finally, in 2011 Kellogg's is gonna put out a honey-touched cereal flavoured solely by actual bee stings. It's pretty good if you like a closed throat.

2 1/2 stars on all accounts.

Read More:

The Black Crowes Slam Maxim On Album “Review” – Live Daily