You’ll all be pleased to know that singer George Michael is making good progress as he recovers from a recent bout of pneumonia in Vienna.  That’s good isn’t it? He’ll be cocking around the Christmas Tree in his giant house just in time to watch the Queen’s speech, before driving off somewhere,  full of festive pot and making us all throw our paper hats into the fire in disgust.

The 48 year old singer fell ill in Austria last month and breathing difficulties meant he was stuck in intensive care, while you lot ate your selection boxes early and speculated about stuff that was none of your business.

Earlier in the week boyfriend Fadi Fawaz claimed the singer would be out of hospital by December 25th and suggested there was nothing to worry about.  So that’s settled then isn’t it?

BUT WAIT! It seems that although he’s doing well, he may not be allowed home for Christmas.

SAY IT ISN’T TRUE???

It is. His spoilsport physician and ruiner of Christmas Christoph Zielinski said:

“[It's] something we are not in the position to decide. That is something that must be decided in consultation with the patient.”

Meh.

George was forced to postpone the rest of his Symphonica world tour after being stuck in hospital, but the real tragedy of this whole sorry situation is that those idiots from The Only Way is Essex have decided to release a horrific version ‘Last Christmas’  knowing full well that George isn’t well enough to run them over and give us all the best Christmas present EVER.

We were going to post TOWIE’s video but after careful consideration we’ve decided not to as we’re not complete bastards. Instead you can watch some really brilliant dancers from the 80′s get on the good foot to  ’Last Christmas’ and wish him a speedy recovery.

Look. No jokes. We actually mean it.

George Michael must’ve been running around the heath without his vest on because he’s gone and got himself a nice dose of pneumonia, which means that Hev from Eastenders won’t be able to go to his gigs because he went and cancelled them.

Y’know, because of the pneumonia?

George was hospitalised on Monday in Austria, so this must be a pretty bad cold he’s got. We need to know exactly how bad it is though, for a myriad of reasons. We basically need to be told whether he’s about to die or not.

When celebrities get ill, we need to be told explicitly whether we’re allowed to laugh or not. With Georgie, we’re not in the picture at all.

The statement reads:

“With great regret, George Michael has been forced to postpone his November 26 and 27 shows in Cardiff, Wales, due to his on-going illness.

“Plans to reschedule these postponed tour dates will be provided when available.”

This is all well and vague, but what are we supposed to do with this information? Just report it flat, as it is? No. We need to know whether we’re allowed to mock and whoop because, effectively, he’s going to be fine… or, indeed, we need to know whether or not to start wringing our hands with faux-worry and start talking about how important he is in the world of pop, despite the fact we don’t actually like his records.

If someone tells us how serious his illness is, we can try and put some context on the activities of his past. For example, if he’s going to be fine, we can somehow make his pneumonia look like its a result of recklessness, like the time he crashed his car while stoned or got his lad out in a toilet before an undercover cop.

If he’s about to perish and join that choir invisible, then we need to not mention his past at all, apart from glowing reference about how many record sales he’s had and any potential charity work he’s done.

Basically, we need George Michael to either sort himself out or die. We don’t mind which because these are just hollow words whatever happens.

DON’T PANIC EVERYONE! Frankie from The Saturdays has been found alive and well! Go back about your business.

The World was left in a state of shock when The Saturdays pitched up on London’s Oxford Street to turn on the Christmas lights, only to find that Frankie (the one people know the name of) wasn’t there.

It turns out that the former S Club Juniors singer was just feeling a bit poorly, so wasn’t able to join her band mates when they officially started Christmas on Tuesday evening.

Rumours circulated that the singer must have been kidnapped as part of a terrorist plot to derail the musical behemoth that is The Saturdays. The plan came about when senior Al-Qaeda leaders discovered documentary evidence that suggested that The Saturdays, the most powerful pop group in the West, are unable to defend the country in their giant fighting robots, which can merge together to form a giant mechanical monster, when they are not all together.

Hold on, we may have confused the Saturdays with the Power Rangers for a minute.

No, Frankie just wasn’t feeling well and apparently wasn’t up to the task of standing on a stage with 4 other people to do a single synchronised movement, despite the fact that this has formed the basis of her career to date.

Now that she’s back, The Saturdays can resume being the biggest pop band in Britain that is still yet to have had any semblance of commercial success outside of an ad campaign or a copy of Now! magazine.

Although, thinking about it, we can’t help but feel that if The Saturdays did actually become Power Rangers, they’d probably be a bit more successful and we might actually care whether or not one of them was too ill to flick a bloody switch on Oxford Street.

Oh well, at least we now know how many Saturdays it takes to switch on a light bulb. If only we could remember their names.

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Poor old Zsa Zsa Gabor. She’s really not very well at all. She’s had one of her legs cut off and now, after a string of health problems, she’s back in hospital again with severe pneumonia symptoms, leaving her with water on her lungs.

We’d suggest that her family are distraught, but alas, her ninth husband – Prince Frederic von Anhalt – seems to be rather enjoying the attention.

Of course, he can be seen with his little eyes welling up during his many hospital visits, but that’s not stopped him from winking at Hulk Hogan’s ex-wife and noticing what a fine, working womb she has. Seriously.

Now, there’ll be some of you thinking that Hogan’s ex, Pamela Bach, is trying to have sexual relations with the marvellously named Prince Frederic von Anhalt… but you’re wrong.

See, while Zsa Zsa lies poorly after refusing a further amputation, leaving her a 50-50 chance of survival, Prince Fred dons the top hat and whips up a circus storm around her near-dead body. What a tremendous individual he is.

He said:

“We don’t expect her to get better. She will be in bed for the rest of her life.”

Everyone say ‘aw’, before saying ‘What the f-?’

Prince Frederic von Anhalt really wants to have a baby with Zsa Zsa, leaving the sick minded amongst you with an image not unlike the one in Kill Bill where Uma Thurman’s comatose body is ridden by dead-eyed hospital staff. However, this is where Ex-Mrs Hulk Hogan comes into the equation.

Fred wants to fulfil Zsa Zsa’s “dream” of them having a child, using his sperm with the egg and womb of a surrogate mother, who could well be Hogan’s ex-wife, Pamela Bach.

Frederic has said:

“It was always my wife’s dream for us to have a child, and even though we won’t be using any of her eggs, she would be thrilled to know I’m going through with this.

“I want her to see and hold the baby’s hand. She will be a mother again at 95!! It was her wish to have a boy.”

This has to be the weirdest cheating on someone ever.

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Bryan Ferry made some fine, fine records with Roxy Music didn’t he? If you leave it at that, he’s a good bloke. Look at some of his personal views and all that goodwill ebbs away into the ether while your knuckles whiten with rage.

Nothing is worse than his cover version of ‘Jealous Guy’ though. Well, maybe his fox-hunting, throwing stuff around parliament son, is.

Whatever. Fact is, because we really like Roxy Music, we’re going to cut him some slack and cooh and him being admitted to hospital last night with reports saying that the singer is “seriously ill”.

Ferry was due to make an appearance at an Olympic 2012 event, but pulled out after complaints about feeling unwell for some time.

And so, off to the hospital he went for an examination.

A spokesman for Ferry denied the assumption that the singer had suffered a heart attack, only willing to confirm that he was undergoing tests.

The spokesman said:

“Bryan has been feeling rough for some time and he felt even worse today. So, he thought it was best for the doctors to look into it. We’re all obviously very concerned for him.”

While this is being passed off as “a precautionary measure”, it seems Ferry isn’t in a good way which is a shame. Well, if you like Roxy Music, it’s a shame.

If not, you probably couldn’t give two hoots.

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Zsa Zsa Gabor (that should read ‘Zsa Gabor’ after she had her leg amputated) has been rushed to hospital after she decided to go hysterical over the news of Elizabeth Taylor’s death. That’s because she’s convinced herself that she is going to be the next to die.

According to her husband – Frederic von Anhalt – Gabor “went hysterical” when she heard about her old chum passing away via the use of a hearing trumpet.

With celebrities always dying in threes, she became concerned after Taylor died shortly after fellow actress Jane Russell joined the choir invisible.

Von Anhalt said:

“Zsa Zsa said, ‘Celebrities go in threes and I’m next’.”

As a result of this unhealthy line of thinking, the Hungarian actress saw her blood pressure go “through the roof”.

Of course, Zsa Zsa and Liz Taylor had a lot in common. They both really liked wedding cake and got married many, many times.

Gabor unfathomably got married more times that Taylor, managing a whopping nine marriages compared to Taylor’s also large eight ceremonies.

As is usually the case with attractive women for the golden era of Hollywood, they’ve both had erratic, eccentric lives which have ended up seeing ill health blighting them over the years.

If Zsa Zsa is so convinced she’ll be the next to go, she should put some money on it. That way, if she does, her loved ones can cash in a decent betting slip when she perishes.

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If you got every single Christmas that ever happened, it wouldn’t even be in the same universe as Zsa Zsa Gabor’s campness. She’s an astonishing woman who, simply by being herself, can make entire towns fall down laughing and cooing ‘AWW!’

However, sad news reaches the ‘spray bedsit as Zsa Zsa has had her leg amputated and, to be quite honest with you, we’re biting our collective knuckles in an attempt to not crack jokes about it.

You see, when hecklerspray is faced with sadness, we pull out the funnies because the alternative is to sit around crying for an entire year.

The fabulous dahling is currently hospitalized at the UCLA Ronald Reagan Medical Center in LA and has been in-and-out of hospital beds since she fell at home and broke her hip in July last year. It is all very sad and depressing.

Gabor had gangrene in her leg which would have killed her, so doctors had to amputate her leg in a bid to save her life. While her chance for survival is definitely a good thing, losing your leg really isn’t very fun.

Apparently, Gabor smiled and ate ice cream and ‘some sausage’ on Saturday, her husband said. We can only assume she’s not batty enough to want them in the same bowl.

A spokesman for the 93 year-old Gabor, said the star of ’50s flicks, ‘Moulin Rouge’ and ‘Lili’ , still doesn’t know that her leg has been amputated. Jesus. That’ll be a woe inducing conversation when it happens, eh readers? And here’s us, desperately trying to not make jokes about it.

The spokesman said:

“I told them (doctors) not to talk to her, because I didn’t want her to get hysterical and the blood pressure goes up”

Gabor is currently on morphine, which is helping to take away the pain. In the coming weeks, she’ll be informed of the operation. We can only hope her response is something like this…

Doctors are “guardedly optimistic” about the actress’ recovery. The good news is that, currently, she’s “chatty and feisty”.

And so, we leave you without having taken the piss too much (not like us at all) and this video of Zsa Zsa’s work-out video which, quite possibly, is the greatest piece of filming ever made.

Get well Zsa Zsa!

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Okay. We rip lumps from everyone on hecklerspray, but sometimes we like to be pleased for people because they’re just great. And one such person is Aretha Franklin, who owns one of America’s finest voices.

Aretha hasn’t been very well recently and she was rushed into hospital, prompting everyone to start worrying about her shuffling off her mortal coil and going to meet her maker.

However, this week, Aretha called into The Wendy Williams Show to assure fans she is not horribly ill, but rather, insisting that her health is “superb”.

Aretha was had to pull out of a spate of gigs at the close of 2010, with many reporting that it was down to the fact she had been diagnosed with deadly pancreatic cancer. There was no word from Aretha.

She underwent surgery and has spent the last month recovering from the operation.

And now, the 68-year-old is insisting that she’s good. She called the TV talk show on Wednesday and said that she had her feet-up at a casino hotel in her hometown of Detroit. Whaddagal!

Franklin told host Wendy Williams she had two more weeks of recovery and will be “looking for a fabulous beach” when she begins her travels again, as well as vowing to reschedule the concert dates she missed in 2010.

She said:

“I don’t have to talk about my health with anybody other than my doctors (but) the problem has been resolved.

“I am not one to do a lot of talking about my personal health or business. There are a lot of people who will talk about anything, as long as there is somebody listening. That’s not Aretha.”

So what is Aretha?

This.

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There’s no end to Michael Jackson’s talents – he can sing, dance, act and transform into a giant plasticine rabbit to elude his fans.

But there’s one thing that Michael Jackson can’t do particularly well at the moment, and that’s breathe. According to one of his biographers, Michael Jackson suffers from a potentially fatal lung disorder that requires an emergency transplant before it kills or blinds him.

Hopefully that’s not true because, if he has his lungs replaced, the only parts of Michael Jackson to actually belong to Michael Jackson will be three strands of armpit hair and a fragment of toenail.

Ever since he was acquitted of child abuse, we’ve been inundated with stories about Michael Jackson’s comeback, but they’ve never materialised. The charity singles have never been made, the O2 residency never happened, nor did the Las Vegas revue, the Jackson 5 reunion, the collaboration with 50 Cent or the album of duets with the dead Pope.

And all the while Michael’s financial woes piled up against him until he lost his beloved Neverland and got sued silly by an angry sheikh. The sensible thing for Michael Jackson to do to recoup his losses would have been to either release a new album or go on tour to bang out the old hits to hundreds of thousands of adoring fans. But he never did. And now it looks like we know why.

According to some reports, Michael Jackson’s extended period of inactivity isn’t down to stagefright or the unshakable sense that, three bars into Smooth Criminal, someone’s going to chuck a bottle of piss at him and call him a nonce – it’s all because of that pesky Alpha-1 antitrypsin deficiency – a genetic lung disorder that might very well kill him if he isn’t given a transplant as soon as possible.

That’s the claim by Michael Jackson biographer Ian Halperin, anyway, who also insists that Michael Jackson can barely speak and has lost 95% of his vision in his left eye. OK! reports:

Halperin claims his lung condition has become more acute. The writer added: “He has had Alpha-1 antitrypsin deficiency for years but it’s gotten worse. He needs a lung transplant but may be too weak to go through with it. He also has emphysema and chronic gastrointestinal bleeding, which his doctors have had a lot of trouble stopping. It’s the bleeding that’s the most problematic part. It could kill him.”

If these claims hold any water, then it’s a horrible irony – the very thing that has earnt Michael Jackson his fortune over the last 40 years is being taken away from him by his own genes. Why did it have to be the one thing he was good at? Why couldn’t he have developed a degenerative protein deficiency on a part of his body that he didn’t need, like his hair or whichever part of his brain it is that makes him act so funny around kids? Why?

Still, though, let’s hope that Michael Jackson can get this lung transplant if that’s what will save his life. God knows his children are going to be messed up enough as it is without a dead dad to worry about.

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Now that she’s pushing 40, Winona Ryder can’t really pull off that pixie waif look any more, so it’s time for a change.

And, as such, Winona Ryder has decided to try out a brave new look for visit to London this week. It’s a look that fashion insiders have already dubbed ‘worryingly ill on an aeroplane chic’. And Winona Ryder pulls it off with aplomb, or at least she did yesterday when she got ill on an aeroplane to London and had to be rushed to hospital upon landing.

But don’t worry, solitary remaining Winona Ryder fan – despite rumours of an overdose, your skinny hero was quickly discharged from hospital. And for an extra dollop of good news, Winona Ryder left the airport by ambulance, so she didn’t even set off the metal detectors with all the cutlery she’d been compulsively stashing down her trousers for the duration of the flight (please don’t sue us for making that last bit up).

Winona Ryder might have had her years in the wilderness. OK, her decade. Winona Ryder might have had her entire decade in the wilderness, but now she’s coming back with full force. As Spock’s mother in the upcoming Star Trek movie, Winona Ryder has been given a second chance at the big league, and she’s going to grab it with both hands.

So there’ll be none of the old Winona Ryder craziness any more, OK? No high-profile shoplifting stories, no disgusting stories about having sex with angry hobbits, no drawing attention to yourself by suddenly falling ill on an aeroplane and being rushed to hospital amid rumours of an accidental tranquiliser overdos… wait. Oh Winona, you didn’t.

She did. Or she might have done. Here’s what we know – on a flight from London yesterday, Winona Ryder suddenly got ill and was taken to hospital as a precautionary measure, where she was checked out and quickly discharged. However, The Sun has a slightly different take on the matter:

Winona, 37, had her stomach pumped at a West London hospital. It is believed she mistakenly took too many Xanax pills — used to treat anxiety. One passenger said: “She turned a deathly shade of pale. It was scary.” The Boeing 747’s captain requested a ‘priority landing’ and touched down 22 minutes early at 11.13am.

If it’s true, then that’s fair enough – flying is terrifying. Everyone has their own way to relax on a flight – some do exercises, some listen to jazz. Winona Ryder just seems to enjoy getting shitfaced on tranquilisers, collapsing and getting rushed to hospital to have her stomach pumped. And that’s perfectly fine. Rather that than sit through the in-flight movie, anyway. Especially if it happens to be any Winona Ryder movie made since 1999. Bleurgh.

But look at The Sun‘s paragraph again. Because Winona Ryder suddenly got ill on her flight, the pilot managed to get to Heathrow 22 minutes quicker than usual. That’s incredible. Forget neck pillows and support stockings, it seems like all you need to make your long-haul flights slightly less unbearable is a skinny barely-famous idiot with delusions of grandeur who seems to be constantly on the brink of pharmaceutically-assisted death.

That’s it. Winehouse, you’re coming on holiday with us next year. If our theory hold up we’ll reach America in about 25 minutes.

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If there’s one thing more annoying than going to a Janet Jackson concert, it’s going to a Janet Jackson concert in Canada.

And if there’s one thing worse than going to a Janet Jackson concert in Canada, it’s getting ready to go to a Janet Jackson concert in Canada and then finding out you can’t because Janet Jackson’s gone and been struck by some sort of super mystery illness.

Which is what happened last night, as it happened. Five minutes before the opening act of Janet Jackson’s concert in Montreal was set to take the stage, Janet ‘suddenly fell ill’ and had to go to hospital. Nobody would say what illness Janet Jackson had, although it’s thought to be the rare Nogoodalbumsfortwodecades Syndrome. Or it might be something serious, in which case – whoops.

Janet Jackson must be glad she kept that secret teenage daughter of hers a secret, because there could be a chance that Janet’s going to need to start harvesting her organs before long.

Why? Because that bout of the sniffles that wrecked Janet Jackson’s SNL appearance in March has escalated into a full-blown mystery illness that has disappointed literally dozens of Canadian Janet Jackson fans. Well, disappointed is a strong word. And so is dozens, for that matter.

Anyway, the point is that Janet Jackson suddenly got ill right before a concert last night and had to cancel the show. BBC News reports:

The 42-year-old had to cancel her Montreal show after she “got suddenly ill” during her sound check, her publicists said. Jackson was being monitored at an unnamed hospital but no further details of her condition have been released.

Are you getting this? Janet Jackson is ill with a disease that’s a secret in a hospital that’s unknown in a country that nobody cares about. Don’t any of you say we never give you the facts.

For the time being, Janet Jackson hopes to reschedule her cancelled concert – leading us to believe that she’s either not that seriously ill at all or that she plans to surprise the population of Montreal in the future with a number of sexy dance routines performed inside an iron lung attached to a stationary bleeping piece of hospital equipment.

Hopefully it’ll be the first one, otherwise we’re going to look a right bunch of dicks.

There was a golden age in the movies when actors acted, when movies were interesting and when men were MEN.

It was an age of moralising without snobbery, with heroes you wanted to be and leading men you wished you could just hug and say ‘thank you’ to.

Paul Newman is a man from that age, and to this day he carries on being a shining example to the world of Hollywood as to what makes a man.

Newman doesn’t bother hyping himself up to be our new saviour – he eschews the limelight that could so easily surround his incredible array of charity works and instead focuses on, well, raising the money. Not constantly appearing on TV to tell us all that he’s raising money – the man just goes out there and does it, managing to make some damn fine marinades for your chicken in the process.

Not like those modern day ponces who skip around from chat show to radio discussion, elaborating to anyone who cares (clue: no one) on how they aim to change the world, that China may not have a great human rights record and generally patronising all with the combination of ears and the ability to understand language.

Nor does he take his time being clinically insane, leaping about the place, alienating fans and generally being a grade ‘A’ berk. The man may subscribe to a religion, he may not, but he certainly doesn’t jog around from port to port cramming his beliefs down anyone’s throat.

What a guy.

Paul Newman inhabits the same echelon of existence saved for members of the human race who are just great, above all reproach and come across as thoroughly nice people – like Gregory Peck, for example. The kind of people that even we at hecklerspray towers find it hard to take issue with.

But unlike the Pecker, Newman isn’t dead. And if his latest statement about his health is anything to go on, the 83-year-old won’t be for a while. Speaking to journalists through his spokesperson, the following factoid was revealed:

“Newman says he’s doing nicely.”

Granted, this does nothing to quell the rumours that the retired actor is gravely ill with cancer, but if Paul says he’s doing great, hecklerspray believes him.

If one of the manliest men that has ever existed tells you he’s okay – even if it’s through a third party – then he’s okay. Stop the speculation and just hope the alleged lung cancer isn’t true; we’ve had enough life-threatening cancer for this year, thanks.

To be fair though, cancer clearly wouldn’t stand a chance against Newman. He’d crack a pool cue over that fucker’s back.

Minor illnesses are being massively under-represented at the moment, so let's all thank Jesus right now that Janet Jackson is doing something about it.

You see, Janet Jackson was supposed to be performing on Saturday Night Live this week but she's dropped out because she's got the sniffles. Or, as she likes to call it, 'the flu'.

A fairly serious bout of flu nonetheless, because Janet Jackson wound up in hospital because of it, but on the bright side at least by pulling out of SNL Janet Jackson has stopped an audience of millions from catching whatever degenerative brain disease you get when you're forced to watch a fortysomething woman repeatedly try to convince you of how sexy she is to a backing of tinpot R&B fluff.

Disease is laying waste to our celebrities at the moment, whether it's newsreaders dying from strokes or 1980s film stars being diagnosed with terminal cancer or widdly-woo rockers catching mystery tour-cancelling illnesses. Whatever happened to celebrities getting a little tiny bit ill and making a great big fuss about it? Huh?

Relax, because Janet Jackson has heard our pleas and pulled out of a TV appearance because she's got a bit of a cold. MSNBC reports:

Janet Jackson has dropped out of her upcoming “Saturday Night Live” performance because she has the flu, the singer’s representative said Tuesday. Celebrity Web site TMZ.com reports that the singer even checked into the ER at Cedars-Sinai in Los Angeles. “Janet did go to the hospital last night due to the fact she’s been suffering from this flu that’s kicked a lot of people’s behinds,” publicist Patti Webster told The Associated Press in an e-mail. “She was never admitted and she is fine.”

Really? Janet Jackson? The flu? Surely Janet Jackson's immune system is as strong as an ox by now, what with everything she's been through. She's exposed enough flesh to the elements and given birth to enough phantom daughters over the years that a bit of a snotty nose shouldn't be able to stop Janet Jackson from appearing on a TV show.

If we're guessing correctly, Janet Jackson would have been on SNL to perform her new single Feedback. And that wouldn't have taken much energy, since it's basically just Janet croaking about how sexy she thinks she is through Dr Stephen Hawking's voicebox to the sound of an old Britney Spears cast-off. Janet Jackson could do that in her sleep. It certainly sounds like she recorded it that way, anyway.

Or maybe, just maybe, Janet Jackson is exaggerating her illness because her new album isn't selling and she's decided that pretending to be ill is a better way to drum up publicity for it than by twonking about on Facebook like REM.

Now we know what you're thinking. You're thinking "Have a heart hecklerspray. Janet Jackson had the flu, and the flu can actually kill people." Which is true – the flu can kill you, but it usually only kills people who are really really impossibly old and… oh.

In that case, close call, Janet. Sorry for ever doubting you.

Read more:

Janet Jackson drops out of ‘SNL’ performance – MSNBC 

It's been a long time since we heard from Eminem, but in the meantime it looks like he's been keeping busy by eating cake and walking around in wet clothes.

It's been reported, you see, that Eminem went to hospital over the Christmas period because of a serious heart condition and complications from pneumonia, with sources adding that he's increased in weight to over 200 lb. Of course, this illness and massive weight-gain means that Eminem can't be called Slim Shady any more, and so he's thought to be deciding on a new name, with either Fatt Poorly or Pensioner'z Illnezz being current front-runners.

In the past you couldn't help but stumble across comparisons between Eminem and Elvis Presley – after all, they were both white boys stealing black music and sending it mainstream. But now the comparison has never looked more accurate thanks to reports that Eminem has taken on Elvis' fondness for tubby reclusiveness and bouts of ill health. While it hasn't got to the 'death by shitting' stage yet, it's understood that things are actually getting quite serious for Eminem.

TMZ has reported that Eminem was rushed to a Detroit hospital over the festive period suffering from pneumonia, a bad heart and worrying weight-gain:

We're told Em was taken to a Detroit-area hospital for a serious heart condition and severe pneumonia. Sources tell TMZ Em's weight has ballooned to over 200 lbs. Eminem 's publicist told TMZ: "Over the holidays, Marshall Mathers, aka Eminem, was under doctor's care at a Detroit-area hospital for complications due to pneumonia. He has since been released and is doing well recovering at home."

At first, news of Eminem's illness probably seems sudden, but it's only after some thought that you come to realise that, actually, what is it that Eminem does any more? Sure, he's sold millions of records, but his last proper album came out four years ago. Since then there's been a Greatest Hits collection and a weak mix album to his name and nothing else with little on the horizon. Frankly Eminem could have caught pneumonia by digging a moat around his house naked, or contracted his heart disease by swallowing bees for a bet for all we know about him these days.

So hopefully Eminem will get better soon, and maybe even think about making more music at some point. Still, ever the optimists, at least there's something to be gained from Eminem laying in a hospital seriously ill – it'd be one less opportunity for him marry his ex-wife and then divorce her another couple of times.

Read more:

Eminem — Not Slim Anymore; Big Health Scare! – TMZ 

It’s simply amazing the lengths celebrities are going to for this whole writer’s strike thing.   

You know, like how Ellen DeGeneres cancelled taping her show in NYC, Julia Louis-Dreyfus picketed arm in arm with Wanda Sykes, Garth Brooks cancelled his TV appearances, and so on. 

But all of these people are total poseurs because if you really want to support a cause, you develop a life-threatening chronic illness that causes you to cancel shows for months on end disappointing lonely middle-aged women everywhere like Wayne Newton has done. Wayne Newton and his virus-ridden heart are the only celebrity making any real sacrifices here.  

The rest of you people just make us sick. 

Legendary singer Wayne Newton has a big heart. We don’t mean that he sings to blind amputee orphan leper children or wipes spilled tanker oil off of baby seals with his silky shirts, but he literally has a big heart. Wayne Newton has a heart condition known as cardiomyopathy, so his heart is bigger than it should be. And if you know anything about the human body you know that the heart is pretty important as far as bodily organs go, so it’s understandable that Wayne Newton would be forced to cancel his Las Vegas shows for the next two months.

However, such cancellations should be appended with warnings of swerving mini-vans and all chocolates being sold out of stores due to the severe depression of middle-aged women that have been planning a trip to Las Vegas to see Wayne Newton with their Weight Watchers support group for months.  

Anyway, it turns out that Wayne Newton apparently contracted a virus during a USO tour in Afghanistan that has led to his unfortunate condition. That sucks for him, really. Seriously, we could understand if he got the disease as punishment for his awful showing on Dancing With The Stars, but not for this. Such an event makes us even more grateful that Paris Hilton isn’t going to Rwanda where she could contract some horrible parasite that would fester in her brain and make it impossible to make albums or say ridiculously stupid things on Larry King Live or do anything at all. Yeah, that’d be real bad.   

But, hey, don’t you go writing your sympathies for Wayne Newton just yet, because he’s got a few things to say about the matter: 

“This is just another little bump in the road. The doctors are a little more concerned than I am. Part of their concern is that I feel so good—I’m not taking this lightly.” 

And if you’re one of those people rooting for Wayne Newton to choke to death as you watch the sputum overflow from his mouth and collect in his chest hair and belly button, then first of all shame on you for thinking such things, and second of all, Mr. Las Vegas has a few words for you, too: 

“I really want to apologise to the fans that were going to see me in those shows. I’m terribly apologetic. And for those who want to paint this situation with a black brush, they’re not going to get their wish. I’m going to be fine.” 

It is really such a relief to hear that Wayne Newton is going to be fine. Not only because heart disease is a horrific ordeal, but because a sexier 65-year-old barrel-chested, girdle-strapped man with teasing peeks at chest hair we have yet to find.