Here at hecklerspray, we’re generally less than thrilled when one of our colleagues has any success that we weren’t part of. In fact we hate them and wish them nothing but sorrow on a daily basis.

We generally despise anyone who seems to be doing well or progressing in their career because we’re entirely aware of how useless we really are and that the only difference between us and a 5 year old, is our ability to drink heavily and use spellcheck.

Are we bitter about this?

Of course.

However, someone who isn’t at all bitter about the fact his fellow McFly band member Dougie Poynter won ‘I’m a Celebrity’ this year, is Danny Jones, who celebrated on Twitter by showing everyone what he looks like underneath his clothes, much to the delight of the female hecklerspray staff who haven’t seen naked flesh in over a decade.

Possibly responsible for Dougie’s win, Danny tweeted:

‘Ok I’ll go even better!! If Dougie wins I’m a celeb I will tweet a naked picture

Funnily enough, Dougie won.

So as promised, Danny exposed his body to the world, hiding his penis in a cup which he’ll no doubt autograph in blood and we’ll bid for on eBay.

SO WHERE IS THE DAMN PICTURE?? you whimper…..well you can see it below if you like that sort of thing.

Just remember. God is watching.

Former singer and current one-hit-wonder masquerading as a musical intellectual, Sinitta, has never been lauded for her intelligence or even for her musical talent but her latest move, “sensationally” quitting the ITV anus-fest “I’m A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here!” before she even got as far as the airport.

According to sources, Sinitta was under the impression that the show was a massive hoax, put out by profligate executives who are willing to pay not only the wages of Geordie mafia boys Ant n’ Dec but also fork out for a luxury hotel for the stars to live in while they’re not being filmed.

Silly Sinitta.

Just days before the series is set to launch in front of a bumper audience of SIXTY PEOPLE, Sinitta has pulled out supposedly suffering panic attacks and having ludicrous nightmares about being choked to death by a basilisk-like Simon Cowell while a spider-with-the-face-of-Gary Barlow repeatedly bit her on the kneecap.

These vivid and entirely accurate visions of jungle life caused Sinitta to abandon her Australian jaunt.

Rumours were quickly quashed that Sinitta’s role in the whole “I’m A Celebrity” package was to pull out early because of her phobias, thus convincing the public that the show is real and that the “celebrities” do indeed sleep in hammocks suspended just above the jungle floor. As opposed to in hotels. As we would secretly suspect if we actually cared enough one way or the other.

“Everyone is gutted Sinitta is not doing it.”

Said a source who also revealed that the producers were now terrified that there would be no-one to “do a McKeith” and scream, whine, bitch and moan about every little thing that happens to them in the jungle.

In preparation for the show, Sinitta had covered her house with fake spiders and snakes as she desperately prepared to take on the ‘rhumble in the jungle’. Many are said to be devastated that Sinitta will not be revealing the size of Simon Cowell’s penis during a heart-to-heart with Freddie Starr.

That’s television.

The show will again be hosted by everyone’s favourite “distinctly average couple” Ant and Dec and kicks off its already much maligned run this Sunday.

Who else is going into the jungle? we hear you scream silently. Well, there’s Mark Wright, Dougie Poynter (out of McFly), Lorraine Chase (no idea), Willie Carson and the afore-mentioned Freddie Starr.

We’re simply suicidal at the prospect.

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In an ouroboros circle of narcissism that’s going to be the reason the universe implodes in on itself in 2012, Katie Price has been spotted with ankle ink that would appear to mark the date she met her latest boyfriend. Which would be fine. Except she’s been dating this latest guy for all of three months and change.

Katie and boyfriend-of-the week, Leandro Penna, have been spending time together since February. This February. The February during which everyone else was getting knocked-up or getting married.

Okay, okay. Maybe meeting and instantly falling in love with some bloke she just tripped over in the street is the lesser of those evils. So long as her womb stays empty and she doesn’t sprint down the aisle again, we’re not going to fight her on this one.

We’re just genuinely perplexed by the logic behind a tattoo of the date she met Leo, when that date was only weeks ago. Unless she’s got negligible short term memory and she’s inking herself in a Memento-style effort to keep track of whom she’s bedding, it’s a touch redundant.

Even if the ink’s temporary, which it could be, it’s still stupid.

As well as staging pictures with her new boyfriend, poolside in Marbella, prominently displaying ‘Leo 27-02-11’, the couple is starting fake engagement rumours too.

During a book signing in early May, Katie wore an enormous diamond ring on her engagement finger. Not the middle finger, which, given the insult to people’s intelligence, would have been more fitting. Pictures showed Katie holding up copies of her latest poorly-penned and probably ghostwritten book, making sure to showcase a ring she likely bought herself.

It’s pretty headache-inducingly hackneyed at this point. And it’s always a convoluted misstep before she marries whichever virtual stranger.

Wait, do we hear wedding bells? Oh no!

This was a guest post by Amy Grindhouse, so three stinkin’ cheers for that.

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Katie Price loves horses. This is mainly because they don’t talk back to her or give her hassle about her terrifying face, which has been manufactured by the world’s worst plastic surgeons, determined to make her look like a Hubba Bubba/gallstone hybrid.

However, she has had some trouble with horses, notably the ones that the wheels of her car crushed to death!

That’s right! The Artist Formerly Known As Peter Andre’s Wife has been involved in a car crash that killed two runaway stallions. The tragic news is that the former Jordan has got whiplash.

Apparently, Price was riding with her fella – some douche called Leandro Penna – in her jeep, which collided with the horses, one of them smashing through the windscreen.

Now, you may well be thinking that Price is so dead-inside, that she asked Penna to chase a bunch of hosses around a field in their 4×4 in some grisly game of death-tag, just for kicks… but you’d be wrong wouldn’t you? What actually happened is that the creatures leapt over a fence and directly in front of the vehicle, being killed instantly as well as writing-off the jeep.

It appears the animals no longer wanted to live in a world where Katie Price was considered a celebrity. The people most upset about all this though are the camera crew who were passengers at the time. They’re all wildly inconsolable because they weren’t filming at the time.

Katie said, without moving her face once:

“It was absolutely terrifying. It all happened in a flash and I have absolutely no idea how I wasn’t badly injured. I feel so lucky, but more than anything I’m just distraught about the horses. It was so upsetting.”

A spokesperson for Price confirmed the accident had happened and two horses had been killed, before breaking into a moving tribute, which can be heard here.

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Not that we’d ever say this to his face, but Alex Reid seems like a wee bit of a head case.  The primary evidence for that is obviously the marriage to Jordankatieprice and becoming a de-facto stand-in for his body double and mental equal, Peter Andre.

Further than this damning evidence is pretty much every other titbit of information that drips out of the media about his personal life (that is, if a titbit can drip. One assumes it can).

There’s his made up names, ‘Roxanne’ for the cross-dressing, the ‘Reidinator’ for the fighting, ‘Rocky’ when he’s in the Big Brother house, ‘Peter’ when Katiejordanprice would get confused in bed and mix him up with his exact doppleganger.  He gets his nutrition before a big fight from ‘reabsorbing’ his sperm to take on the nutrients (apparently they make him go ‘raaaaahh’, according to his Wikipedia page. Goodness!). And now reports have come out that he has been taking part in some kind of druidy festival up at Stonehenge.

We suppose, in a way, compared to most celebrities’ processes of dealing with hurdles in their life (head shaving, shouting at Jews, becoming a lesbian) this is a slightly more sane way of coping. Seems like in the last week, Reid has seen the divorce terms and is dealing with it in the only way he knows how – by wearing a giant hood and attempting to wrestle some prehisoric stones to the ground.

Digitalspy sacrifices a lamb and says:

Reid took part in a ritual with friends in which participants wear large hoods and chant in unison around the prehistoric monument…”Alex was down in the dumps but feels much stronger now and will not be gagged by Katie,” the source added.

Okay, maybe it doesn’t explicitly say that he attempted to bear hug one of the ancient stones out of the ground a la Zangief, but it just seems like something he might try. Heck, given that no one is normally allowed within about half a mile of the damn stones we might be tempted to give them a quick rugby tackle, just to see, and we have the strength of an emaciated window dresser.

The divorce is apparently only giving him 10% of the joint earnings, rather than 50%, and it allows Jordonpricekatie to gag him about their relationship, the last part of which is especially good news for anyone concerned about the educational system in this country.

Anyway, now that he has drawn some Power From The Stones, or some other new-age arse he will undoubtedly be fighting for his ‘fair share’ of the earnings. His solicitor has made a start, apparently he deserves the money because,

He hasn’t been falling out of nightclubs and draping himself over women

Nice to see he’s got himself legal representation that can grab hold of the really important technical and legal issues, isn’t it?

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Everybody on Earth… hang on… lets start that again. The small percentage of people in Britain who actually gave even the vaguest of fucks about Katie Price knew that, the second she tapped off with Alex Reid, he was being offered as bait.

Now, you can decide whether he was being offered to a false God, the press or, most likely, a jealousy maker for Peter Andre, but either way, it didn’t work. Unless you buy into the ‘false God’ theory, in which case, he’s now the walking dead (or ‘even deaderer’), occasionally in a nice frock.

Anyway, it didn’t take long for Price to realise that the bubblegum husband would soon lose his flavour and she ditched him like a bag of cats in a canal. And now, she wants to give the official line on the whole thing.

Of course, with Price being a successful author (hahahahaha) we can all assume that the statement she’s just release about the break-up will read like a Christopher Marlowe tragedy. So let us snap to it, with an addendum of Alex Reid haunting the marital home like some wailing spectre.

First, Katie’s moving tribute to the affairs of the heart.

Alex and I have had a number of difficulties over the past few months. I accept that these were in part caused by my marrying too quickly – we all make mistakes and this was one. However, Alex changed from the man I fell in love with and some of his behaviour became difficult for me to understand and caused issues. I have tried to help him with these issues but they have put a considerable strain on our relationship.

We can assume that she isn’t talking about the whole ‘dressing up like a girl despite looking like a perfect orange oblong with a man-face’ thing because she knew about that before the marriage. We can also assume that she didn’t like him being a successful cage-fighter because, well, he wasn’t a successful cage fighter. So what could it be?

Our difficulties were also not helped by Alex becoming more fascinated by life in the media eye. Obviously I cannot be critical of someone wanting to do this and originally I tried to help him with his career by getting him contracts with my production company. If Alex wants to honour those contracts the production company is more than happy to do so. However, Alex’s desire to promote himself caused a change in the dynamic of our relationship and contributed to our alienation.

Uh-oh! Sounds like someone wanted an equal share of the spotlight!

Alex and I have spent many hours discussing our relationship and trying to make it work but the issues between us are too deep rooted. I had hoped that we could end our relationship amicably and without a war of words in the media. I appreciate that there are those that will not believe that but I had agreed I would say nothing more than the statement we had jointly prepared. This was not because I am concerned what Alex may truthfully disclose but to give him comfort that I would not discuss the issues that so strained our relationship.

You can almost hear Price’s cogs whirring on this segment can’t you. You can almost hear her saying “What’s a nicer way of saying that I wasn’t going to call him a dick-end in public, but I’m going to have to now, because he’s acting like a massive dick-end’? to her ghost-writer.

I had hoped that Alex and I could remain friends but I am not sure if that is possible given events since last Sunday when we were on the verge of releasing a statement. Alex asked that we did not release any statement because he wanted more time to think. The intervening period has, however, seen a number of false stories appear and photographs of Alex with my son Junior in the gym which it is absolutely clear were posed for. Alex is fully aware that I have sought to remove my children from the public eye now they are of an age to understand and be affected by media coverage of them. I feel incredibly let down that he did this while asking me for more time to discuss our relationship and just hope that the stories circulating that he sold those pictures are not true.

Gah! Imagine that! Using your children in shots, posed for and orchestrated for use in magazines! What a dreadful shill he is, right?

It is true that I have asked Alex to leave the family home and that he will not do so. I would leave myself but the house is equipped for Harvey’s needs. Alex would like to portray himself as honourable and I hope he acts that way. Contrary to some reports I have not discussed financial matters with my divorce lawyers.

He won’t leave the house then. He possibly plans to stand in the corner, just glaring at the room whether Price and the family is sat in it or not. That’s because he’s a bit simple. Let us remember though, bizarrely, you people voted him as the winner of the last Celebrity Big Brother. You idiots.

I would like to make clear that the allegations that I have been dragging out any announcement so that my film crew can capture on film Alex’s upset are complete fabrication. I am deeply upset that my relationship with Alex has failed but I know it is the right thing for my children and I that we separate. My children are my absolute priority in this and they are being shielded from what is happening.

Ooooof! She was that close to shedding a tear then – provided of course, that her tear ducts are able to function properly after being hidden under 40 layers of creosote or whatever it is Price sticks on her presumably tiny head.

And so, here’s a helpful insider to leak more about how upset Katie Price is.

“She’s in tears. Kate has been trying to discover if he intends to return to her house. She has been texting all day but he’s refusing to reply. She is almost in terror of hearing his key in the door. She has no idea what his intentions are and refuses to tell her.”

Splendid. Now Alex Reid is being made to look like an unhinged stalker because, essentially, he hasn’t managed to move his things out of the marital home quickly enough.

Still, he probably is a bit mental isn’t he? Who in their right mind would marry Katie Price and think that it was a sensible, rational idea.

We greatly look forward to all this being chronicled in a new book or, better yet, a concept album called ‘That Bastard With The Square Head And Empty Eyes Won’t Move Out’. Hopefully, it’ll be as painful as this…

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Katie Price and Alex Reid looked like they were going to announce their inevitable split the other day, but alas, never quite got ’round to it. That’s a shame because every single one of us cares deeply about whether they’re having sex or not.

One of the things that seems to be a hurdle is that Katie is refusing to undergo IVF treatment. Are we to assume she doesn’t like messing around with nature and that things should unfold as God himself intended?

HAHAHAHAH! You’ve seen her tits and face, right?

Anyway, it seems that Alex Reid (human punchbag, both professionally and, with Price, emotionally too) is desperate to get a baby growing inside the fascinatingly awful model/author/thing. You’re guaranteed a certain level of fame if you do, we suppose.

Some dick told a newspaper:

“There were many factors to this circus of a marriage falling apart.

“Alex so desperately wanted to become a dad and believed they were still working on this. But few people understand how gruelling IVF is. Katie underwent hell twice to try and have Alex’s baby. She simply couldn’t do it for a third time, but didn’t have the heart to tell him straight away.

“When it eventually came out he was destroyed. There was a row to end all rows.”

“As it stands they are living in separate parts of their house.”

Or, as it is commonly known, ‘sleeping on the couch’. It doesn’t end there though. Ever the canny shill, Katie Price can still see pound signs hanging over Reid’s perfectly square and orange head.

It has been suggested that Price isn’t game for making a decision about their future until she gets to do it on a television programme. Almost impressive in crassness, don’t you think?

It is claimed that footage is being captured for Katie’s first reality show on Living, where presumably, she’ll want to capture the split second when she drives an emotional nail through Alex Reid’s heart, leaving us all to watch the clip of his breakdown over and over, frame-by-frame.

Another source says:

“She and Alex have been dead and buried for weeks, but she didn’t want them to split up before Christmas for the sake of the kids. The original plan was to announce the separation within days of their one-year anniversary, which got put forward when Kate could no longer bear her husband.”

“But after signing a new reality TV deal with Living and Virgin Media, she’s determined to give the viewers what they want – fireworks. By dragging out the marriage for a few more days, the crew have told her they’ll get brilliant footage, mainly of Alex bewildered and in tears.”

Jesus Christ almighty! Read that last sentiment again. ‘Giving viewers what they want… and that is to see a grown man bewildered and in tears’.

Holy mackerel. What have we become?

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Katie Price breaks news faster than she breaks the thick blooded heart of pro-lummox and punchbag, Alex Reid. That’s Alex Reid who likes to slip into something more fiddly like women’s clothes, from time-to-time. We are legally obliged to mention that.

Anyway, for ages, there have been mutterings that these two were going to split up. In fact, these rumours flew around in the first week of Reid and Price getting together. She clearly still loves Peter Andre doesn’t she? Because she’s quite obviously stupid.

The announcement is set to come very, very soon. This afternoon in fact. That’s right! hecklerspray are running a news article before it has even happened! We should have said ‘SPOILER ALERT’.

Dan Wooton, who works for the News of the World has gone on Twitter to reveal that the couple will be releasing a statement this afternoon.

He probably got that information by [The hecklerspray legal team have removed this joke because it could get hecklerspray into a lot of trouble and, besides, you can't go around making jokes about NOTW] … [the legal team that represent the hecklerspray legal team have removed the joke about telephones from the hecklerspray legal team because it could get absolutely everyone on Earth into trouble]

Phew. That last joke is a bit confusing isn’t it?

Anyway, Wooton wrote:

“Breaking: I have just learned Jordan and Alex Reid will officially announce their separation this afternoon. Will have more details soon.”

He added:

“Breaking: I am told it was Jordan’s decision to end the marriage. The statement will brief. Alex Reid is distraught.”

Of course Alex Reid is distraught. He’s an idiot and he’s only just realised that everyone’s been correctly telling him so all along.

Oh well.

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Alex Reid is, clearly, a figure of fun in the British press. Hardly surprising when you consider the fact that he’s a perma-tanned cross-dressing simpleton who gets punched in the balls for a living. However, beneath all that, there is something to feel sorry for.

Really? Yes. Fact is, we all know and he knows it – all he’s ever been to Katie Price is a thing to dangle in the face of Peter Andre in a bid to make him jealous. How depressing is that? You’re sole role in the public eye is some kind of bait to try and snare a simpering, warbling Antipodean with gigantic gym tits.

For a while, Reid has been muttering about his problems, roundly met with a “WHO CARES? SHURRUP Y’DIMBO!”, but now, we have to listen because Katie Price is talking about it all through her grotesque, motionless blow-up bed of a face.

The bap-bearing author (AUTHOR! HAHAHAHA) got married to Alex Reid in superfast service in Vegas last February after dating/shagging him for a few short months. However, like her attitude to most things, she’s got bored of the whole thing and has started sighing in public.

She wrote on her twitter page:

“To answer my fans questions news of the world did a accurate story sunday about our marriage in crises … always look on bright side xx”

It’s that kind of eloquent writing that shows us just what a ferocious writing talent she is (we shouldn’t mock. Our prose is clunkier than a gas heater having sex with a bag of cogs).

Of course, this being a celebrity couple (well, of sorts), they’ve booked a holiday to try and save their marriage. And become even more orange.

A source reckons:

“It is no exaggeration to say that the marriage is in crisis. They needed some time on their own without any distractions to talk and see if they have something worth saving. They love each other very much and are doing everything they can to make it work.

“The fact that they have jetted away shows their commitment to making it work. They haven’t done it to get some glitzy deal. They have done it because they both need to do some hard talking.”

That’ll be fun won’t it? Imagine Alex Reid slowly chewing a stale croissant in the hotel breakfast with yoghurt in his hair, mouthing the words “Do you love me Katie?” while Price continues to look over her shoulder and throw dainty waves at the surrounding photographers who have once again worked out that, if you use a strong enough flash on your camera, you can see right through her clothes.

Alex Reid will be making his Piz Buin run with big, fat salty tears.

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I’m A Celebrity… Get Me Out Of Here! is the most honest ‘reality’ show on the box. Basically, it makes no bones about the fact that the whole point of the programme is to give us plebs the chance to make famous people suffer.

We make them eat stinking genitals and grubs that pop in your mouth like marshmallow filled cherry tomatoes and, in the case of Gillian McKeith, put her in so many jungle trials that she may actually die.

And now, sick of talking to the tick on his neck, Nigel Havers has quit I’m A Celebrity…Get Me Out Of Here! As this is news of the breaking kind, there’s not much to say about the whole thing, other than the fact that it looked like Havers was going wimp out after whining and bitching on our TVs last night. A message on the show’s official Twitter has now confirmed his exit saying “It’s official – Nigel Havers has left the jungle.”

More when we get it/more if it sounds interesting enough.

It’s hard to think of a celebrity couple who work so incredibly hard at doing so very little above Alex Reid and Katie Price. Sure, she used to model and put her name to some books and junk, and Reid was an average cage fighter but, for the most part, they’re just… there.

So when they got married, the whole world would have shrugged if it wasn’t for Kay Burley making Peter Andre cry on the news. It’s a marriage based on an ex sobbing and occasional cross-dressing.

As such, it’s very easy to tire of the pair and, amusingly, it seems like they are getting tired of each other. It’s unlikely they’ll have the brain-clout to work out why, but still, we can mock all the same.

Yes indeed, Alex Reid has told wife Jordan that the pair “need time apart.”

For what reason? Well, picture this: Alex Reid stood in the kitchen, scratching his genitals while perusing the contents of the fridge. Then, from nowhere, springs Katie Price with those startling breasts of her swinging around like space hoppers glued to a sausage. She begins to poke him in the stomach and hurl insults at the contents of his testes.

That’s right kiddiekins! Alex, 82, has become so sick of The Artist Formerly Known As Jordan giving him grief about his weight and the pressure to conceive, that he’s decided to stay with family for a few nights a week to get some space.

In retaliation, she’s vetoed his plans to go into the jungle for this year’s I’m A Celebrity! Get Me Out Of Here!, which effectively makes him redundant as a human being because his raison d’être is to simply appear on format/reality shows and kindly wave through the screen ’til he wins.

A pal of the couple tells Closer:

“Alex has put up with a lot from Jordan, but things have got so bad that he has finally snapped. He told her he can’t take the stress of her mood swings and the pressure for her to get pregnant, and needs some time apart.

“He thinks the only way the marriage can survive is if he stays with family or friends for two nights a week to give them both some breathing space.”

This lovely tale of romance and unrequited love comes weeks after Katie Price was telling her pals that she was bored of her new husband and branded the relationship “a big mistake.”

Helping matters no end, Price said that she really wants to see Peter Andre. Yes. Things have got so bad that she wants to actually meet up with the person responsible for ‘Insania’ and ‘Mysterious Girl’.

She sez:

“I still feel I need to see him and talk about why we broke up. We never discussed the argument that led to him walking out and it feels like unfinished business in my head.”

Here’s an idea! If Alex needs a bit of space, why doesn’t he phone up ITV and go on I’m A Celebrity? That way, we won’t have to put up with Katie Price, as she’ll be glued to the TV sneering at her husband and, better yet, we can switch our televisions off and ignore the pair of ‘em!

We are so bloody clever.

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10 – GO HERE NOW! A man’s about to fly across the Atlantic on a jetpack, and you can watch it here - Challenge

9 – Dogs. Dressed as bees. Read that again. DOGS DRESSED AS BEARS! Consider your mind BLOWN – Beedogs

8 - The worst I’m A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here line-up in history – Interestment

7 - Ever hear the one about the cosmetic products made out of Peruvian peasants? No? – SlantedScience

6 - Sarah Palin meets Sarah Palin at a Sarah Palin book signing. Quite possibly what the end of the world looks like – Bestweekever

5 - Planning to rob a bank any time soon? Then have WE got a disguise idea for YOU! – Geekologie

4 – Suri Cruise: adorable but freezing – AmyGrindhouse

3 - Inside The Actor’s Studio: Daniella Westbrook – Watchwithmothers

2 - The Sugababes have had a rough old time of it lately, but at least they’re up to speed with Windows 7. Like watching three pretty monkeys try to work the Large Hadron Collider – MyChemicalToilet

1 – Florence And The Machine. In France. In 1963. Really…

During the First World War, soldiers would often endure days of warfare in the most atrocious conditions imaginable, and emerge from it all having gained or lost just a few yards for their team.

Which is a hideously overblown and offensively inappropriate metaphor for this year’s I’m A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here, the show that last night ended its interminable run on NBC. Who has covered themselves in glory? Who has covered themselves in shame? Who has apparently covered themselves from head-to-toe in the offcuts from a leather warehouse? (Hint: it’s not Holly, it’s not Torrie, and it’s Janice). Find out after the jump.

We can’t tell you how long we’ve waited for this (our instinct says it’s been about 1,800 years, but logic dictates that maybe it was a bit less than that). Either way: Yay!  Because this is the last week of IACGMOOH. No more of John Salley‘s quite frightening competitiveness. No more of Speidi‘s televised egowank. No more of Torrie Wilson‘s glorious boobies in a wet camo swimsuit. No more… wait, what? This is the end of our weekly viewings of Torrie’s silicon mines? We have to survive on the 38,812 Google images of “Torrie Wilson swimsuit” until she gets herself naked in Playboy in, ooh, three minutes or so? Curses!

Okay then, before we give you the news you already know, let’s take a quick look at this year’s most memorable contestants:

Speidi (Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt): insufferable tosstards. They came, they annoyed, they left. They came back, they annoyed again, they got scared, they left again. They got verbally assaulted by Al Roker, they came back again again,they smugged through last night’s interview, they hopefully were buried somewhere in the Costa Rican jungle.

Janice Dickinson: leather-faced, sandpaper-voiced harridan. Oh Janice, you sure know how to make friends in difficult situations. You alone know that when a bunch of people are thrown into a tropical jungle with limited food supplies, the best way to make yourself popular is to steal their food, refuse to do any work and just sit around squawking like a tasered chicken.

Sanjaya Malakar: peacock-haired singing ninny. When we first saw that the boy who spent an improbably long time on American Idol had got this gig, we assumed he would be chased from the jungle within a week by a pack of monkeys desperate for the secret to his preposterous hairstyling. How wrong we were (the monkeys, in fact, became fascinated with trying to climb Janice, who they’d mistaken for an ancient oak). Sanjaya turned out to be quite the stoic little jungle dweller. In retrospect, it wasn’t a surprise: the lad looks just like Mowgli after all.

Lou Diamond Phillips: hammer-faced pain lover and worthy I’m A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here winner. Lou started the show as a has-been actor, trying to start a career revival. He ended it as a has-been actor with thirteen thousand mosquito bites, trying to start a career revival. Never afraid to man up to a challenge, and always ready to tell Janice that she is a totally unlikable leatherfaced skank, Lou won the hearts of the voting public.

And is currently holding them in a safe place, their return dependent on someone agreeing to make La Bamba II: Rock n Roll But With Guns ‘n’ Bombs ‘n’ Shit.

So there you are. Another year passes, another person you vaguely remember from that film twenty years ago is about to be on the cover of all the world’s magazines for a week before shuffling, embarrassed, back to the High School Reunion Special Guest circuit.

Have strength, dear viewers: it shall return. And hopefully with someone better able to approximate a real human being than Myleene Klass. Hmm, what’s C3PO up to these days?

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Want to become famous? OK, here’s how you do it. 1) Be completely awful. 2) Spend a few hours in a dark room until you vomit.

Honestly, it works. Thanks to her being awful on The Hills and then vomiting a bit on I’m A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here, Heidi Montag has never been so famous. And now she’s finally achieved fame, it’s time for her to use that fame for something important and philanthropic and world-changing. Heidi Montag is going to pose naked for Playboy.

What? It could be worse. She could be doing something that involves her voice.

Right now it’s the done thing to be rude about Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt, but you know what? We’re not going to rise to it. In our opinion Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt are brilliant. They’re the gift that keeps on giving. To be more accurate they’re the totally unwanted gift that keeps on giving even though you’ve exasperatedly threatened it with violence unless it stops giving, but a gift’s a gift.

Heidi and Spencer’s propensity of attention-seeking whiny awfulness is bottomless. They were awful on The Hills, more awful when they attempted to launch a musical career, even more awful when they decided to get married and somehow even more awful than that when their stint on I’m A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here ended with Heidi Montag crying and vomiting semi-digested bean-clods down herself because she didn’t like being in a room with some spiders.

But that’s it, right? That’s as awful as either Heidi Montag or Spencer Pratt are prepared to get, right? Wrong. You appear to have ruled out the possibility that Heidi Montag will strip naked and pose for Playboy soon. Which we’re sure you’ll agree is so aneurysm-inducingly awful that you probably shouldn’t think about it for very long. Here’s Heidi Montag discussing it on The View:

“I would do it very tastefully, and not necessarily nude… It is a very reputable magazine. Many people have done it. I cannot technically confirm, I would love to do it, I might have done it.”

It’s not really a surprise that Heidi Montag was approached to appear in Playboy, given that she’s got blonde hair and more than three people know her name – which does seem to be the magazine’s policy at the moment – but we can’t work out why she chose to accept the offer at this precise moment in time.

After all, aren’t Playboy shoots usually reserved for celebrities on the wane? Surely Heidi Montag isn’t admitting that puking up because she didn’t like the quality of her accommodation has made her as famous as she’ll ever be. Surely rather than get naked for Playboy she should maximise on her current notoriety to become even more famous by, say, manually bringing a farm animal to orgasm for a cable TV show or making a direct-to-DVD film that nobody ever watches all the way through. You know, something big-time.

Still, at least Playboy is getting something out of this Heidi Montag shoot. After all, considering the financial difficulties that it reportedly faces, it needs a good back-up plan. And if there’s a better way to repel bailiffs than stacks and stacks of unsold pictures of Heidi Montag’s naked breasts, we’d like to hear it.

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Having already changed rooms because of an insect infestation, Myleene has accidentally glued herself to her bed. If anyone starts connecting the dots between ‘insects’, ‘grasshoppers’ and ‘sticky hotel room messes’, they will be asked to leave.

Myleene Klass, barely-sentient host of the celebrity torturefest: we knew she wasn’t the greenest leaf on the tree, but she’s now operating at levels of idiocy which have almost become genius. Hotel staff found her, in her room, with one hand stuck to the bed by a mysterious substance.

We’re just waiting for a Thai newspaper to publish photos of the incident.

Little over a week old, and the American version of British import (Brimport? Anyone?) I’m A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here has already provided us with injuries, insect-eating and women who look like men who look like women who look like Ents.

But now, in the oddest news to emerge from the Costa Rican jungle since people realised that the Baldwins were brothers (‘Really? But one looks like a botoxed Emperor Palatine, and the other looks like a sculpture of a 50-year-old Fonz made out of Spam and penises‘), host Myleene Klass has glued her skeletal hand to a hotel bed.

The Sun, can you enlighten us?

“Myleene Klass had to be rescued by hotel staff after getting stuck to her bed. The TV presenter, 31, had sprayed herself with insect repellent that reacted with varnish on the bedposts – gluing her to the frame. A source said: ‘Hotel staff had to peel her off slowly but surely.’”

“While they waited for the kitchen porter, who has a cameraphone, to arrive” was not included in the source’s comment.

We got to thinking, and realised what a bloody fantastic idea the celebrity/glue/object craze is. We present three of our own ideas for future adhesive collaborations, all of which should be televised in Hi-Def:

1) Tom Cruise, glued to a piano, his fingers forming G sharp minor, loaded onto an aeroplane and tossed from the cargo hold at 35,000 feet.

2) Bono, glued to the inside of a corn-thresher programmed to start when sensors detect a swearword being spoken, which is glued to a drunken Scottish Tourettes patient.

3) Kelly Osbourne, glued to a mouse, which is glued to a cat, which is glued to a dog, which is glued to a horse, which is glued to a wolf, which is glued to a tiger, which is glued to an elephant, which is encased in concrete and sunk beneath the Pacific Ocean.

Make it so, Gods of Television.

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