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.

Ah, Gerard Depardieu! It doesn’t really matter what you do with your career now because you’ll always be remembered as that drunk French guy who had a wazz in the aisle of an Air France plane.

WAIT!

What’s this? He’s at it again? This time, dressed as Obelix from Asterix? Really? How brilliant. Can we keep him?

Of course, there are some of you out there who think what Gerard did was pretty lousy. Disgusting even! You’re hugely wrong.

It was brilliant, solely because we got to make the joke ‘Gaul bladder’. That’s worth your entrance fee alone.

Either way, Gerard is making light of the whole thing while promoting his upcoming film about cartoon character Obelix.

G-Dep (that’s what we do with actors now, right?) waddles around in his outfit and says a load of stuff in French that we don’t understand because we didn’t listen in school.

J’ai douze ans.

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Ah, Gerard Depardieu. He’s a daft old drunk isn’t he? When he emptied his bladder in the aisle of an Air France plane, we all chuckled about the effects of alcoholism in mental actors, but alas, we were all hugely wrong!

See, Gerard wasn’t drunk at all! He really wants to point out that he was as sober as can be.

Which surely, makes the whole ‘getting your chap out before a load of passengers and then taking a steaming leak all over the carpet’ thing considerably worse, right? Is he saying that being drunk is more shameful than wazzing in public?

Either way, the French actor says he’s ”sorry” for urinating one off. He’s got problems you see.

A statement released by his friend, actor Edouard Baer, said:

“Gerard is very sorry for what happened. He wanted to go to the toilet but he was forbidden because we were about to take off, so he was forced to do it on the plane in front of everybody.

“He has prostate problems and it was very worrying and humiliating for him. He was also stone-cold sober at the time. This is not the way he usually behaves.”

The tale (or tail, it’s up to you) doesn’t end there. Long suffering Edouard, who was with Depardieu on the flight, tried to rectify the situation by giving him a receptacle in which to piss.

But it overflowed like some awful sitcom.

“I found the solution by passing him an Evian water bottle, but it was too small and overflowed.”

It overflowed! We hope it was one of those two litre bottles! That would be immense! Imagine it! Gerard is the champion pisser!

Next week: Gerard Depardieu aims to do the biggest stool sample in history.

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Gerard Depardieu is the world’s most unlikely sex symbol, what with him having a face like a bear ravaged buttock that belongs to a scaly vagrant. Yet, the ladies love him! Is it because he’s a suave, refined man?

Well it can’t be that, given that this week, the French actor decided to have a massive piss in the aisle of an Air France plane.

No seriously.

Good ol’ Depardieu was fidgeting around in his seat while the plane was waiting to take off in Paris, making its way to Dublin.

Like a lot of flights, there was something of a delay. Gerard Depardieu turned into Depardon’tbloodybelievethis, and decided that he couldn’t hold his urine any longer.

Depardieu told the flight attendant:

“Je veux pisser”

You’re stupid, but can guess what that means, right? Well, the attendant knew, but didn’t care. You start letting one passenger go for a leak and they’ll all want one.

No, he’d have to wait 15 minutes.

Not a man who can wait 15 minutes, Depardieu unzipped his kecks and took a stinky slash all over the aisle carpet.

Then, the real delays started as the jet returned to the gate for 2 hours while some poor sods had to clean it up, and of course, Depardieu was escorted away to be slapped/housetrained.

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Last night The Apprentice dabbled in poor Franglais and mildly racist yet entirely subconscious accents. Yes, Lord Sugar sent his minions to Paris to sell their crap to the French. He wants international business people, you see, as you can’t take over the world if your company’s only in the UK.

Unfortunately for everyone else, Melody was the only one who could actually speak French, setting in motion her plan for world domination. She’s like The Brain, but with better eyeliner. And Leon was her (slightly more attractive) Pinky.

Before Melody could get cracking with taking over everything though, Lord Sugar needed to rejig the teams. Helen got booted over to Venture, where Susan put herself forward for project manager, despite seemingly having no idea what France even is. That was OK though, because she got to play with fun little products, like the kiddy’s chair and the kiddy backpack. She clearly missed it when Lord Sugar told her to act like a “Big Person” at the end of last week.

Over at Logic, Melody was being big enough for everyone. Tom wanted to sell the much coveted children’s backpack (apparently it turned into a booster seat or something. hecklerspray wasn’t really listening, because if there’s one thing we hate more than people in general it’s children) but Melody was having none of it.   She and Leon had been sent ahead to Paris to do some market research whilst Tom and Natasha stayed back in London to pick the product.

Unfortunately for Tom though, Melody’s version of market research seemed to be to just make things up. According to her, nobody drives in Paris and so those massive traffic jams are the result of evil cars getting too smart for their own good and just planting themselves in the middle of the road. It’s not really what anyone said to her, but it was her story and she was sticking to it. She could get away with this devilish plan because Leon’s complete lack of linguistic skill meant he had no clue what was going on at any point in time and so just stood there drawing some pretty pictures and smiling awkwardly.

Not content with forcing Tom to sell a stupid teapot light and some weird postcard with added cress, Melody then refused to hand over any appointments to anyone else and just went to them all herself. Tom and Natasha were reduced to phoning strangers and asking to speak to the postcard manager, whilst Leon just stood around looking pretty. For a change.

Back at Venture, meanwhile, Susan’s idea of a great pitch to a massive company was to sit on a booster seat and go “look how small I am!”. Thankfully for her, Helen was there to completely ignore her and bash ahead, netting the team over £200,000 of orders for the weird kiddy chair. The woman might actually be a genius.

Having been comprehensively shat on from a great height by Venture, Tom inevitably elected to bring both Pinky and the Brain back into the boardroom with him, where everyone ignored the fact that Brain-y Melody attempted to ruin the task single-handedly. Leon insisted he was at a disadvantage because he couldn’t speak the language, thereby completely ignoring the fact that everyone else was speaking English the entire time. Tom, meanwhile, tried to cover the fact he sold absolutely nothing by telling Lord Sugar he’s going to be bigger than Dyson.

And Melody?   Well, Melody’s an award-winning genius, don’t you know? She’s even Woman of the Future, which means we’re in for a terrifying time of odd beverage-themed lighting and huge eyeliner.  At the end of it all, Leon got fired for having done nothing but drawing pretty pictures, and some standing about.  Because it turned out that, Lord Sugar liked Melody’s hunger, so she got to stay. Despite being a megalomaniacal monster who is hell-bent on the destruction of the human race.   So a bit like hecklerspray then.

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When Jonathan Rhys Meyers isn’t running around New York unknowingly looking for his stupid musical prodigy son, he’s punching Frenchies in the face. It’s his passion, don’t you know.

Chances are you read that opening sentence and thought to yourself – “Yet another thing I have in common with that weird-eyed actor.” Well who doesn’t share that lust? Right? We absolutely love punching things that are French – be they sliced potatoes or Sarkozy ex-wives – we just want to give ‘em the ol’ salty knuckle.

Of course – we’d never do it publicly. That’s where Meyers loses us.

Chances are if you were a French man standing between Jonathan Rhys Meyers and anything that looks faintly alcoholic, you’re gonna get punched. It’s not really fair, if you think about it. After all, the French are a peace loving people who would give you absolutely anything you want. A good example of this is how they were so willing to make all their children speak German back in 1940. It’s probably a great country to border is what we’re saying.

Imagine then, if you will, the shock of a French waiter who only wants to make foreigners happy with bad food and a slight stink, but gets assaulted by an actor with a resume covered in Roger Ebert‘s stomach chunks instead. It’s almost unfathomable! It’s unfair!

For the record – we don’t know exactly how a feeble Frenchman ended up on the business end of a Meyers-knuckle sandwich. What we do know, though, we learned on E!:

“For the second time in two years, the Tudors king is facing charges after an airport dustup, this time for allegedly punching a waiter at a bar in Paris’ Charles de Gaulle airport on Saturday. According to Agence France-Presse, Rhys Meyers was ordered to appear in court in September on charges of “willful violence, outrage, hitting and threatening death.”"

Would you like specifics as to the threatening death part? The actor told the waiter he was gonna gut him, fill him with helium, and then attach him with a string to that North Korean rocket that’s supposed to buzz Hawaii any day now. Very intimidating, really.

That may or may not have happened. What did happen after the French-fight is this -  according to the Sun:

“Boozy TV hunk Jonathan Rhys Meyers challenged cops to a drunken fight at an airport. He bragged how rich he was, threw euros on the floor and then told the officers: “You wanna hit me? Hit me!”"

Of course the police did hit him – but it was only with scared fingertips from a distance on a fully extended and double-gloved hand. We’re told Meyers didn’t even know they were there until his skin began to itch somewhere between 100 – 120 swats.

We think that’s what we were told. When you read as much as we do things begin to blur.

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10 - This little French girl has just been given a five-picture movie deal in Hollywood. Someone, please, animate this…

9 - Our current favourite kid’s TV show. No joke here, we just like watching it a lot – iPlayer

8 – Thom Yorke releases a song for Barack Obama. Guess what? It’s sort of miserable – NME

7 - Stinky farts explained. By SCIENCE! – Livescience

6 - Top ten hip-hop videogames. Included here only for the inclusion of the Wu-Tang Clan beat ‘em up – Formatmag

5 - But what about a creepy picture of Louis Armstrong‘s disembodied head shouting at some cartoons?  – Best Week Ever

4 - Do you want to see a live webcam of some corn? You do? Oh. Alright then - Iowafarmertoday

3 - The Flintstones View Master stories from the past, if you’re old – Whatmydadsaw

2 – Every single TV theme you can think of, archived and ready to download – Televisiontunes

1 - Giant explosion! – I Am Bored

For some reason, the UK has taken it upon themselves to hate every other nation in the world.

Mostly through headlines on grubby downmarket tabloids, we are always reminded to hate the Germans because of the war and the Scottish due to an old butchering rivalry, with the other country that deluded working class white boys high on cider and bad drugs seem to hate being France.

Now why should we hate the French? They’ve given us plenty of things to like – from wine, through Va-Va-Vaoom and even a strange love of horse burgers (it’s like a tough steak). Granted, the last choice is more for animal protestors to piss and moan over.

But no, getting drunk off a Frenchman’s grapes isn’t good enough; we have to assume they all eat baguettes, cycle everywhere on crap bikes and wear necklaces of garlic instead of buying stuff from H&M. Thank the lord for Telepopmusik then eh?

Hanging around the music world since 1997, this trio have made some gorgeous laid-back beats that you probably have heard before. Thanks to the subtle power of advertising you’ve probably listened to one of their songs while some company attempted to make you buy a car or a tin of paint – scroll to the second track on the Telepopmusik player and you may understand what we’re blabbing on about.

Breathe comes from their debut album released a dog’s age ago, but still sounds like it could have been created just the other day – the balance of the vocals combined with the majestic harmonies work ridiculously well. Not that we’re experts in advertising, but we’re positive that a fancy brand of cosmetics have used them in the background when some stick thin model slaps some product all over her stupid face.

There’s been bugger all news from the Telepopmusik camp for a while now, but a track called Ghost Girl featuring the vocals of Kim Wayman may explain where the band are headed, and the new album is set for release ‘Fall 2008′ – that’s Autumn to our British reader(s). With fine detective work like that, we do wonder why MI5 aren’t knocking down our door to hire us as fast as possible.

A selection of songs that showcase their career so far are available for your listening pleasure; from remixes to new records, there should be something to please you. If not, you’re just a bloody awkward git and we can’t be arsed with you.

No crap competition either this week, as last weeks winner didn’t come forward. Still if you want the unclaimed prize, tell in the box below. Or we’ll auction them off for gin money or something.

For more:

Telepopmusik

Lily Allen – she’s that one who had pink hair, a godawful TV show and is generally a waste of space.

Yeah, that sounds about right. Well now it would seem she’s got herself into MMA – that’s mixed martial arts – with some hardcore street fighting action. Well, hardcore may be a bit far, but Lily Allen did go and try to beat up a random French girl for insulting her.

And we shouldn’t forget that she also managed to swear like a navvie, and she managed to do all of this in front of about 32,000 paparazzi and other press hounds. Not a bad effort, we have to say. But to top off all the topping offs that could be topped off, there’s a video too – and it’s after the jump.

Yes, we thought we’d managed to get rid of her to our good friends in the US, but it would seem we’ve struck out in that respect and Lily remains firmly on British soil.

Exiting Ronnie Scott’s jazz club in London, Lily was apparently abused by a French passer-by, which caused her to react in a way befitting of any Brit taking issue with a Frenchie: through the art of violence.

Unfortunately, the battering took on something of a pathetic form and was easily upstaged by Allen’s hilarious foul mouth, which managed to put even the great swear-machine Brian Blessed to shame.

While it would appear Lily Allen isn’t taking her own advice, at least it looks like she is following through with her attempted crusade to rid the streets of violence. Though we didn’t expect her to get rid of it personally, nor did we expect her to get rid of violence with violence.

But we’re not questioning her logic – we don’t want to be battered, for one.

Rather than natter on any more, why don’t we just let you see for yourselves – here we have Lily Allen, attempting to punch a French girl, failing, swearing a lot and being calmed down by Miquita Oliver who used to be on Popworld.

It really does have it all – tension, violence, beauty, international appeal, a resolution and a lesson at the end of it all: “violence is bad.”

(Alright, so we’ll admit that video’s a bit rubbish, but it’s better than most of the other ones around and we couldn’t embed the one that The Sun has up – but hey, at least you can hear her swearing like a disgruntled navvie, eh?)

Awesome or Off-Putting is a weekly delve into cryptozoology, ufology, aliens, medical marvels, scientific wonders, secret societies, government conspiracies, cults, ghosts, EVPs, myths, ancient artifacts, religion, strange facts, odd sightings or just the plain unexplainable.

When mental imagery of a divining rod is conjured up in one’s mind, the picture of a man and a stick looking for water on the old frontier will no doubt be one of the first. Dowsing, as the art is called, has been around for ages. A long-dead Frenchy named Jacques Aymar was particularly good at it.

He didn’t stop at finding measly water though – he was reportedly so proficient police would call on him to dowse his way to murderers.

There was a time in Europe when Dowsing was considered to be one of the devil’s past times. The practice was shunned, and if you were were found to be involved with it a painful death could likely be in the cards for you.

Then came Jacques Aymar – his story is interesting. According to the book entitled The Divining Rod: An Experimental and Psychological Investigation 1926:

“While searching for water one day Aymar felt his rod turn so strongly that he felt sure he was standing over an underground supply. On the spot being dug there was found, instead of water, the head of a murdered woman. Aymar went to the house in which this woman had lived and directing the rod, in turn, upon each person there, he found that it moved for only one person, the widower. This man immediately fled, and his guilt being established, Aymar’s ability to trace murderers and other criminals because established.”

Other sources state the villain-detecting was a bit more than just the rod pointing in whichever direction. In most cases, he’d sweat and pass out once he found the culprit.

The police loved it. They’d call him in on difficult cases. For instance, according to that same book:

“July 5, 1692 – a wine merchant of Lyons and his wife were murdered…After he was asked to do so, Aymar agreed to do what he could and visited the house in which the murders had been committed. He left the house [following his dowsing rod] and following a circuitous route, arrived at the door of the city….He continued to skirt the Rhone until half a league beyond the last bridge in Lyons. Here the footsteps of three men were found in the sand, where they had embarked.

“Aymar then retraced the steps of the fugitives, always by using the dowsing rod, locating the houses they entered, the beds they slept in, the chairs on which the sat and the glasses from which they drunk. The search party eventually arrived at Beaucaire and found themselves at the prison where they entered and Aymar indicated a man who had just been arrested for petty larceny. This man denied all knowledge of the murders. He was led back to Lyons by the route Aymar indicated. He was so overcome by the accurate manner by which his movements were so minutely described that he confessed to the crime and described his accomplices.”

The man who confessed – he was soon after condemned to be ‘broken on the wheel,’ and Aymar became a celebrity throughout the country. So much so that he apparently caught the attention of royalty – though in retrospect he may have regretted it. According to Wikipedia:

“When submitting to testing by Prince de Condé, however, [Aymar] failed every single test.”

What specifically those tests were isn’t known by us at the moment. We will say though, that other people tested him, even with blind folds, and the man passed with flying colors.

Was he the real deal? We don’t know and frankly. we don’t care. Should his corpse ever show up on our doorstep pointing at us with a regiment of flat-feet, well then our indifference just might change.

Read More:

Aymar, Jacques – Experience Festival

Eva Longoria's husband Tony Parker is denying that cheated on his wife with French model Alexandra Paressant so strongly that he's suing X17 for $40 million over it.

X17 is the picture agency that first published reports – along with text messages apparently proving it – that Tony Parker had slept with Alexandra Paressant after meeting her for the first time at his own wedding, partly because he was fed up about Eva Longoria yammering on about how sperm gives you acne all the time. But Tony Parker denies having sex with – or even ever meeting – this model so strenuously that he's after $40 million in damages.

Incidentally, if $40 million is the going rate for not having sex with models that you've never met, then we've estimated that we're owed roughly all the money in the whole wide world. Cash is fine. Or a cheque. Or food. Scraps of food. We're so hungry. Anyone?

When you're married to someone like Eva Longoria, as Tony Parker is, there's no need to cheat. With Eva Longoria you get to see that legendary cameltoe in its actual size instead of blown up so huge that the cosmonauts can see it, plus you get to experience that world-famous irritating narcissistic rasp all day, every day, non-stop, all the time until the day you die. Why would you even bother looking elsewhere?

Tony Parker knows that you definitely wouldn't, not at all, especially with French models that he's never even met before. But that didn't stop X17's website from publishing an interview with French model Alexandra Paressant where she claimed to have had a two-month affair with Tony Parker that started when Thierry Henry introduced the pair at Tony's wedding and ended when she discovered he was cheating on her with a third woman.

Alexandra Paressant also claimed that Eva Longoria doesn't like having sex in front of a mirror and thinks sperm gives you acne. Which it apparently does, as a sperm expert told us.

Eva Longoria and Tony Parker have already denied these claims – about the affair, not the jizz-acne – but now Tony Parker has taken things one step further, by suing X17 for $40 million over it. In the lawsuit, Tony Parker claims he doesn't even know who Alexandra Paressant is:

"This is false. It never happened. And X17 had to know that the story was false, or, at the very least, it had to have entertained serious doubts about the credibility of its supposed source. No one from X17 attempted to contact Mr. Henry, who … would have told them in no uncertain terms that this woman was not at the wedding. If this woman exists, he has no way of knowing whether she is one of the many fans who have, from time to time, managed to obtain his cell phone number and called or left messages or who may have engaged him in conversation."

So Tony Parker must be fairly certain that he didn't have a two-month affair with a French model, in which case good for him. This blistering denial will only help to keep his marriage to Eva Longoria rock-solid, or at least as rock-solid as a marriage can be when your wife is a self-absorbed midget with a voice like a toy dog impersonating a machine gun.

Read more:

Parker Sues Web Site That Claimed Affair – Associated Press