Doctor Who has always been a quirkfest, with machines that don’t work properly, stupidly long scarves, baddies that look like bits of tinfoil and something preposterously called ‘a sonic screwdriver’.

Really, The Doctor is, of all the heroes, the most nauseatingly twee. He’ll be playing a bloody ukulele next. A sonic ukulele no doubt.

Anyway, thank frig the Americans have shown up to save this sorry franchise with some razzle and dazzle. That’s right! America will be getting their hands on Doctor Who and making the explosions bigger, the Doctor more handsome, throwing in a sex scene or two and making him have a proper spaceship as opposed to a stupid telephone box. WHO EVEN USES TELEPHONE BOXES ANYMORE? HAVEN’T THE WRITERS HEARD OF MOBILE PHONES?

Apparently, the Time Lord will be Tinselised by Harry Potter director David Yates who is planning to build a movie franchise around the Dr. Who series.

Harry Potter? That was stupid tweedery as well! But fear not!

Yates says:

“We’re looking at writers now. We’re going to spend two to three years to get it right. It needs quite a radical transformation to take it into the bigger arena.”

A radical transformation! No we’re talking!

Let us hope that K-9 ends up looking like Mechagodzilla, the Tardis ends up looking like an X Wing Fighter, only with bigger guns and that all of the Time Lord’s stupid magic wands are replaced by an arsenal that would make this guy blush…

Basically, the above clip is what the Doctor Who movie should really be aiming for. Fine, fine, fine, the Doctor can still be a super-intelligent humanoid alien who travels through time being sarcastic to everyone, but lets get someone who looks like they could punch a giant hole in a truck!

Matt Smith is not that man. This is the role where Arnold Schwarzenegger can make his Hollywood comeback! It’s perfect! MAKE THIS HAPPEN HOLLYWOOD!

And we don’t have to worry about existing storylines and the like because Yates has promised that he’ll be ‘starting from scratch’.

We might even get some decent baddies too! DALEKS THAT DON’T NEED A DISABILITY RAMP TO GET UPSTAIRS! Oh man, Hollywood. You’re brilliant.

Like World War II, they have come to save our bacon once again!

(Keep Karen Gillan in though, eh?)

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News has reached us here at hecklerspray of a really tragic event that should highlight age issues throughout our society. For too long people have gone about their daily lives, scarcely giving a thought to the older people in our society, people who are too old and frail to care for themselves properly.

As the economic slump continues and people find it just too damned expensive to squeeze out babies like they’re going out of fashion, the world’s population will continue to get older and it is to our older friends and neighbours that we must look to and offer a helping hand in their hour of need.

It’s news like this that really hammers that fact home.

Yes, we are loathe to report to you that 63 year old Aerosmith frontman Steven Tyler has taken a “nasty fall” in the shower and has been rushed to hospital.

Little is known of his current condition but it has been suggested that the American Idol judge escaped with only a few broken teeth with doctors claiming that his injuries could have been much worse if his lips hadn’t cushioned the fall. hecklerspray is thankful that this elder statesman is due to make a full, toothy recovery.

Unfortunately, the Aerosmith representative that we didn’t speak to was unable to give us any more information on the older gentleman’s condition but did suggest that he may have to use a wheelchair as part of a publicity stunt.

Please folks. Hug a pensioner. Unless they’re off their tits on smack, obviously.

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Yesterday, we completely forgot to write about Karen Gillan being found naked on the floor of a hotel in New York. Despite the fact it is quite literally yesterday’s news, everyone still seems to be talking about it today.

So of course, not wanting to miss out on that lovely traffic, invariably being swept up by slow-reacting newspapers that only grabbed a hold of the story today, we’re going to write about it as well.

So yeah. Karen Gillan. Naked. A Doctor Who companion with no clothes on, like that woman who got naked with a Dalek that one time.

So what’s the craic then? Well, as you will have read elsewhere, possibly countless times in a bid to see if anyone has any pictures of the event – which they don’t and never will – Gillan went on the lash in NYC and returned to her hotel rather worse for wear.

The Doctor Who companion was found whimpering on the floor without a stitch on, giving millions of lonely sci-fi loving onanists the opportunity to wank from the bank for the next decade or so.

She and Matt Smith had been on the razz and then it all went wrong for Karen. Karen who ended up naked. Naked on the floor. Whimpering. Whimpering like a wounded deer. A wounded, sexy deer. Your favourite fantasy, come to life. A guest at the hotel heard someone trying to open his door at 7am and it was Gillan with her boobs out. Her drunk boobs. Her drunk, science fiction boobs.

A guest says:

“I went to the peephole and looked out. I saw a man at the lift who was looking back at someone who was attempting to open my door… the next thing I saw was a woman giving this person at my door two towels before getting into the lift and leaving.”

‘Then I saw this young woman, completely naked, trying to wrap two towels around her and not having much luck. She then started to whimper and knock on my door. Seeing that she wasn’t getting anywhere, she lay down with the towels covering her.”

But you know that. You’ve been reading the story over and over again for the past 24 hours straight, trying to get an image of it in your mind so sharp and clear that you’ll never sully your brain with another memory again.

Of course, no-one was available for comment. But nobody cares about that. You dirty buggers are just hoping that some grainy CCTV footage appears in the next couple of days.

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Badvertising likes nothing better than seeing the breakdown of an advertising executive portrayed through their adverts. It heartens us to see people so devoid of creative talent making adverts which are actually supposed to be designed to sell a service but leave the target audience feeling more bemused than Lindsay Lohan’s gynaecologist. The world needs more confused, off-message advertising but it won’t get it. Why, you ask? Oh… you didn’t…

The advertising world is filled with people so nefariously clever that they can make you suddenly decide that you need something you’ve previously never even considered, just by the power of suggestion through a stupid combination of words and moving images.

Sometimes it won’t hit you for weeks or even months but rest assured that it will hit you. One minute you’re in the queue at the post office and BANG! Next minute, you’ve bought a Saab and have no recollection of how you got to the showroom or paid for the thing.

On the whole, it’s the same deal with comparison websites and hotel services.

You won’t think you’re being coerced due to the fact that you’re not parting with any money but thinking about Money Supermarket or any of these things has been placed in your mind.

You didn’t pluck that out of nowhere. Google rankings? Advertising. SEO? Advertising. It’s all there and it’s all designed to get your money or your clicks- whichever the business deals in.

Hotel finders are much the same animal only looking at this, you’ll wish they weren’t.

This is Hotel Derek from Hotels Direct. We’ll deal with the elephant in the room first, shall we? Hotel Derek is so-called because it sounds a little bit like Hotels Direct. If we hadn’t dealt with that one first, we might all have missed the point of the advert. Hotel Derek is a superhero; something which should be abundantly clear from his catchy superhero name and penchant for wanton acts of criminal damage.

The couple in the advert are going to London. They’re from the North so this is clearly the closest that they’re ever going to get to leaving the country and seeing some culture. Going from a world of smoke-stacks and lung disease to the greener pastures of ‘That London’ must be so exciting that they decided to mention the fact that they’re going to London every time they speak to one another.

You see, these people don’t seem to be able to afford to go on many trips. Hence her asking if they can afford a certain hotel so why would she feel the need to mention London every time. Is it because the script demanded it in order to shoehorn the idea of their ‘big trip’ into a 30 second advertisement. Probably. Either way, it’s still more annoying that waking up to find a choking coal miner in your bed.

The guy doesn’t care. Guys in adverts never do. A woman is speaking, why should he listen?

That is until Hotel Derek, the latest in a long line of humiliated failed actors comes bursting through the wall. Quite literally through the wall. Despite there being a door just to his left- he bursts through the wall. Criminal damage. Phone the police? No. He’s dressed up as a lime green superhero complete with nut-hugging spandex. He’s bound to actually be a hotel-touting superhero as opposed to just a nutjob in a cape, right?

Wrong, apparently.

After zipping around the furniture, speaking to them as though they’re floating detritus that he picked off his boot the last time he was shooting up in a sewer, Hotel Derek decides to launch them into the air towards London. Aside from being impossible, it’s also assault and, assuming they don’t live in a house with no ceilings or roof, yet more criminal damage. They’re saving a bundle on their holiday but the cost of fixing their house is going to be astronomical.

Dialogue again and of course, Hotel Derek does it Hotels Direct. So confused and ill-thought out is this advert that the writer clearly felt the need to have him say it twice in a 7 second period just in case people didn’t quite understand what the advert was about or why an Eton-educated superhero would be firing people into hotels, completely avoiding the check-in process.

It beggars belief. Of course not all adverts miss their message quite so spectacularly but when they do, the results make the brand and the advertising company look so idiotic that they might as well have done the advert themselves dressed up like Jabba the Hutt on a unicycle while crying.

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Male stars of Desperate Housewives have to look danger in the eye every day – and by ‘danger’ we clearly mean ‘Teri Hatcher.’

For some people the danger goes as soon as they leave Desperate Housewives, but others aren’t so lucky. Take Jesse Metcalfe, for example. On Saturday night Jesse fell 40ft off a hotel balcony down two flights of stairs in Monaco, knocked himself unconscious and broke his leg – and his publicist is claiming that he’s lucky to be alive.

But, as horrific as the accident sounds, it’s impossible not to see the bright side of this. True, Jesse Metcalfe could have died or suffered horrible brain injuries in the fall, but on the plus side at least everyone knows who Jesse Metcalfe is again. Oh, come on, you know. Jesse Metcalfe. Tall boy. Used to be on Desperate Housewives. No? Fair enough.

If we’ve learnt anything from today, it’s that you must never, ever mess with Lindsay Lohan. Seriously, ever. Look at the facts. Calum Best messed with Lindsay Lohan and he went bald, Barack Obama messed with Lindsay Lohan and he’s going to have to spend the next four years pretending to be friends with Vladimir Putin. And look what’s happened to Jesse Metcalfe.

You’ll remember that Lindsay Lohan was recently sacked as the host of the World Music Awards because she objected to the organisers’ plans to introduce Jesse Metcalfe as her co-host. And what happened? Jesse Metcalfe went to the World Music Awards and ended up having a brain scan because he plunged off a 40ft hotel balcony down two flights of stairs. Are we insinuating that Lindsay Lohan is some sort of voodoo priestess? No. We’re too frightened for that.

But the point is, in a roundabout way, that Jesse Metcalfe – Eva Longoria’s gardener in about three episodes of Desperate Housewives once – has buggered his body right up in the fall. Fox reports:

Jesse, 29, hosted the World Music Awards in Monte Carlo, France, on Sunday but slipped as he headed back to his hotel to change. He was rushed to hospital, then flown to London to be re-examined. An MRI brain scan gave him the all-clear but doctors confirmed he had fractured his fibula. The actor’s spokesman said last night: “Jesse knows he’s had a very lucky escape. The accident could have been fatal.”

While we’re pleased that Jesse Metcalfe didn’t suffer any career-threatening injuries in the fall – there’s still hope for John Tucker Must Die 2! Yay! – it does make us wonder what caused the fall. Alcohol hasn’t been acknowledged as a factor – despite Jesse’s stint in rehab for alcohol abuse – and his people seem to be blaming the hotel. But we think we know the real reason.

If you knew that you had to spend the rest of your life staring at the world’s ugliest tattoo, you’d probably want to throw yourselves off a balcony once in a while too, wouldn’t you? Huh?

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When Phil Spector needed a place to stay that wasn’t a prison, a jail, or a cot next to the furnace in a friend of a friend’s unfinished basement, The Westin Bonaventure kindly took him in, giving him something called ‘heavenly beds’ and possibly a continental breakfast.

But Spector (enter dark looming clouds) didn’t like bagels with cream cheese, small personal-size boxes of raisin bran or apples with tiny, brown, centimeter-deep puncture wounds on them. No, the continental breakfast definitely would not do. So maybe he ordered room service every single day instead.

Well whatever he did it looks like he was paying for extra of something – the hotel is currently suing him for $110,000 they claim he owes them. Will the hotel ever see this money? Probably not – but Spector’d no doubt be happy to throw in some unneeded “Wall of Sound” if that would help at all.

You know, the kind he used to toss around so freely circa 1970.

Phil Spector spent an awfully long time at trial over the murder/death of 40 year old Lana Clarkson, the woman that was found dead at his house. All arguements one way or the other temporarily ended when the jury deadlocked and a mistrial was declared.

Mistrial or no mistrial though – Spector had been renting several rooms at the Westin Bonaventure for he and his legal team. From what we’ve seen he kept up on payments the first four months, but then he began to let things slide – which probably really upset the bellhop who was standing there with his hand out.

According to the LA Times, the hotel claims:

“Spector stopped paying the bills for rooms four months into his stay at the Westin Bonaventure, a few blocks from the Criminal Justice Center where his trial was held, according to a lawsuit filed Wednesday in Los Angeles County Superior Court.

“Spector had an agreement to pay in advance every two weeks, according to the suit. The Westin provided Spector with special accommodations, including “heavenly beds,” complimentary workouts for his attorneys and a secured “litigation war room” guarded with key-card access, said Shari L. Rosenthal, an attorney for the Westin.”

The trial started April 24, 2006 and ended September 26, 2007. If he only paid the first four months ‘rent’ that means he was there for over a year without paying a dime. Perhaps the hotel’s reluctant permittance had something to do with all those unresolved murder allegations.

Still, we don’t know about you, but with rates like that we’re booking a room. Actually, make that two rooms, preferably adjoining, and have somebody roll breakfast in on a cart every morning around 9:30.

Please no gross looking apples.

To read more see ‘Hotel sues Phil Spector over $100,000 unpaid bills’ On The Associated Press Website