Lindsay Lohan stepped out on the red carpet this week looking as young, sexy and stylish as ever. Wait, we mean the exact opposite of that.

The o/b/v/i/o/u/s/c/r/a/c/k/a/d/d/i/c/t starlet was papped at the amfAR New York Gala yesterday sporting tobacco-stained hair, meth teeth and accessorised her hot new look with a Grinch-skin coat and a vacant stare.

Want a look? You brave crusader, you. Just click the jump.

So, let us get this straight – despite looking, and no doubt smelling, like a zombie Farrah Fawcett, Playboy value pictures of Lohan’s vagina at $1million?

We’d sooner pay Li-Lo $1million to surgically stitch her legs together.

Or for NASA to build one of those Men In Black style mind-wipers to scorch this image from our retinas.

THIS WOMAN IS 25. We’ve seen radiation victims with a better complexion. There’s no way she isn’t doing this on purpose now or is this some elaborate prank?

Come April Fools we’ll all be laughing. Won’t we Lindsay? Won’t we?

Worrying reports are beginning to reach the hecklerspray news desk of spontaneous combustion among children. 

Reports so far are sketchy but it is thought that the exact demographic affected is girls & boys between the ages of 11 & 17. Parents are being advised to keep their children away from the internet for the foreseeable future to limit the risk of catastrophic explosion.

Experts have warning that if the spread of these fiery paroxysms isn’t stemmed immediately, it could lead to a cataclysmic chain reaction that could- if predictions are accurate- wipe out all human life on the planet, leaving Earth in the paws of Dormice.

Epidemiologists are hard at work trying to establish the root cause of the problem but rumours circulating on the internet suggest this may be the beginning of a phenomenon known as “Biebergeddon“- the destruction of life as we know it, directly proportional to the actions of Canadian pop singer Justin Bieber.

The exact “flash point” of this mysterious outbreak is unknown but our exclusive hecklerspray source has suggested that it relates to a crossover in fandoms between former Ellen Degeneres lookalike Bieber and UK boy band The Wanted. It is thought that Bieber’s acknowledgement of The Wanted on Twitter has sparked this epidemic of spontaneous combustion which is currently spreading across Britain and the United States of America, with many more countries likely to fall within the next two to three hours.

The offending tweet is reproduced below. It has been censored in case any teenagers happen upon it. Should any responsible adults wish to see the full tweet, an unedited version is available by clicking on the image.

Suggestions that the condition was exacerbated by Wanted member Tom Parker‘s response, suggesting that the two acts might actually be “bros” and therefore, in the modern vernacular, “friends”. This is allegedly responsible for up to 25% of the erroneous blow-outs.

Current government advice suggests that all children who fall within the demographic should be wrapped in fireproof blankets to prevent the spread of fire and should be quarantined in an area free of a broadband connection.

Parents are reminded of the potential dangers of so-called “smart” mobile phones which are able to grant access to the internet. A US/UK government task force is currently deploying quarantine units in the centre of all major cities, where laptops, tablets and phones can be deposited for safe-keeping.

So far, the UN has stopped short of declaring a State of Emergency and the British Medical Association & World Health Organisation have both moved to deny the existence of Biebergeddon, suggesting that the heightened state of alert is a result of tabloid scaremongering and that the actual numbers of spontaneous combustions are in the tens rather than the hundreds of thousands, as reported by major news organisations.

To all citizens of the world we say only this: stay safe out there & All Hail Our Dormice Overlords!

These are dark times for that there internet. As the vultures circle around the rotting carcass of the World Wide Web, we disembark our safe harbour to take a tour round the Cape of Good Tumblr. This is The Tumblr Trawler…

Naturally, we’re assuming that some of you have never even seen a Tumblr, let alone know all about the intricate system of interactions and the thought processes which go into making one. Therefore, we make no apologies if you’ve heard of one of these before or even bought their god damn book. Okay?

5. We’ll start this week’s count down with kittens because, if there’s one thing we learned from doing Webthump for all these years, it’s that you lot bloody love a good kitten. So why not take a look at some kittens taking their place in famous album covers. Highlights include ‘Kittenage Fanclub‘, ‘Johnny Cat‘ & ‘Catwerk‘. See them all at The Kitten Covers.

4. We all have family members that we don’t speak to very much because they were clearly dropped on their head as a child but what would happen if you were keeping a note of every text you ever received from them so that you could put it on tumblr. Some might say that you would be a bad person but the person behind Texts from Bennett would probably disagree.

3. At hecklerspray, we have such a high level of job satisfaction that we like nothing more than flicking through page after page of people complaining about their terrible working conditions. Luckily for us (and for you) there’s Please Fire Me. It’s like Post Secret in that people can anonymously tell the site what they hate about their job without fear of getting fired. These are tough economic times and if you have to keep your job despite your co-workers being idiots then look no further. This tumblr’s for you!

2. Are you trying online dating? Finding that it isn’t for you? Have you run into one of these people who are getting it so wrong that it’s not really terribly funny any more? Well, why not have a flick through Messages From Match and see if you don’t appreciate the next person who asks to see a photo of your genitals just that little bit more.

1. This week’s number one was a shoo-in as soon as we saw it. Yr Wifi needs no more introduction than to say it’s a list of amusing, stupid or down-right insulting names for Wifi Hotspots. Read on and be ashamed of your standardised router. Highlights include ‘Pretty Fly for a Wifi‘, ‘I Still Miss Phil Hartman‘ & the frankly brilliant ‘Wu Tang LAN’

Yes, we know what you’re thinking and stop looking at us like that. You’re one of those Star Wars nerds that hate everything to do with the franchise after 1982, aren’t you? You don’t have any time for Ewoks or Gungans or modern, snazzy computer graphics. You want to watch monsters that move like they’re on rails and Anthony Daniels hamming it up without any interference from the modern world.

You know what? That’s fine.

Pretty much everything to do with Star Wars after ‘The Empire Strikes Back‘ (and maybe ‘Return of the Jedi’) was such a pile of complete dross that it’s enough to make Michael Winner consider re-releasing some of his films updated to HD. Those of you who groaned at the first appearance of the shambling Jar-Jar Binks would have found yourselves doubled over in agony by the time The Clone Wars hit TV screens.

Up until recently, The Clone Wars was all that any Star Wars fan had to give them an indication of what a TV series might be like and guess what: it was crap. It felt like a marketing tie-in designed to transmogrify character models so that Lucasarts could flog more toys to kids that had grown up at a time where Star Wars had become a laughing stock. Of course, as with all of Lucas’ cunning marketing ploys; it worked.

In the first decade of the new millenium, Sci-Fi fans saw its traditional rival ‘Star Trek‘ as the “cooler” option. Sure, a reboot by JJ Abrams is enough to help out any ailing franchise but Star Wars fans were left wondering what was to become of the franchise that reinvented Science Fiction in the 70s’. Would they get a cool reboot designed for the digital age or would George Lucas continually update and adapt the original trilogy until he had eventually replaced the leading cast with computer generated facsimiles of Shia LaBoeuf?

That disturbing image of a future where everyone looks like Shia LaBoeuf brings us back to The Clone Wars. It has long been mooted that the next step for the franchise was onto the small screen and it was understood that scripts were already in place to create a series set between Episode III: The Last Rubbish One & Episode IV: The First Good One. Nothing more was revealed and forums began to melt under the burning loins of fans’ expectations but at long last, producer Rick McCallum has revealed the name and the over-riding theme of the show to IGN.

Star Wars: Underworld

We hear your sharp, sexually excited intake of breath and we applaud you for it. Far from being another kid-orientated romp with all the familiar characters, McCallum & co want to delve into the murky underbelly of Galactic Society. We’re talking gangs, Imperial raids and, perhaps most importantly Bounty Hunters.

Suddenly the idea of a live action Star Wars TV series has merit. Could the main character be the man that has become synonymous with all that was cool about the Star Wars Universe, Boba Fett? Well frankly, you’d bloody hope so, wouldn’t you?

Still, don’t get your hopes up. Despite negotiations being ongoing, the series is still mired in budgetary wranglings. Supposedly it’s quite hard to make something look like Star Wars for $5million per episode. On the off chance that this might actually be good, why don’t we all have a whip-round? hecklerspray can exclusively reveal that we’re willing to offer 20 pence to Mr McCallum to help fund the pilot episode. We can’t say fairer than that.

So, a gritty, grown-up Star Wars series may be another decade away but isn’t something with a bit of sci-fi credibility worth waiting for? We’ll be here watching and waiting and hoping that we don’t end up taking the blame for it being awful.

Take That’s Prodigal Son and Stoke’s most irritating son Robbie Williams has been waking up in the night covered in a liquid that isn’t his own urine according to The Daily Star. In an interview with Britain’s least believable paper, Williams prophesied that he might be a target for terrorists because he’s so completely important.

The egotist, who recently returned to the warming, Northern embrace of his former Take That, has been  having trouble sleeping recently and instead of taking a Night Nurse and keeping his massive flapping trap shut, he decided to give an “exclusive” to a woeful Red Top.

Luckily, he’s been having dreams that even Joseph & His Technicolour Fraud Coat wouldn’t have any trouble analysing.

Poor ol’ Robbie says that he can’t remember the last time he had bad dreams. We’re not experts on the Rapid Eye Movement of celebrities but we’d hazard that his last bout of nightmares was what prompted him to believe he was Sammy Davis Jr. & release ‘Swing When You’re Winning’. Still, the snivelling little rodent believes he’s part of a different Rat Pack now, one being funnelled into a killing field by a “certain paramilitary group”.

He told some lobotomised hack;

“I had a dream the other night that a sectarian group was trying to kill me. I have not had a nightmare like that for a long time, forever really, but a certain paramilitary group came to kill me.”

A certain paramilitary group. Could have been any of them so hecklerspray used our underground network of contacts to find out if any terrorist organisations were employing dream assassins. Yes, dream assassins. Haven’t you seen Inception? Of the sixteen worldwide paramilitary groups we contacted, fifteen asked us who Robbie Williams was while a representative of “The Real IRA” said;

“Fuck off, we have better things to do.”

Ayda Field’s husband (that’s Robbie, apparently) needed the reassuring sight of a relative to remind him that he was very much alive and still an incredibly rich man;

“I suddenly woke up and saw my brother-in-law Rich from Stoke-on-Trent at the bottom of my stairs at my home in LA and knew everything was all right.”

The paramilitary group responsible for this attack will have to step up its efforts if it wants to avoid another ‘Rudebox’ incident. Hang on a second, do the NME have a paramilitary wing? We’ll get them on the phone and get back to you*.

Williams has admitted to spells of paranoia in the past and spent a summer holed up in his Los Angeles mansion, before emerging disguised in a gorilla suit and wearing a pair of sunglasses. Suggestions that this may have been due to an over-indulgence in a certain white powder were refuted, despite obviously being true**.

*NME’s lawyers would like us to point out that they are not in the habit of forming paramilitary wings in order to assassinate celebrities who are stealing column inches from The Kaiser Chiefs. Protesting too much?

**Legal Note: Robbie Williams has never even seen cocaine, let alone snorted loads of it to make himself feel like Dean Martin.

Master of snoozemonies (sorry) Robert Pattinson has said that he would lay down his life if it meant saving the ones he loved. The news comes as hundreds of sharpened spears were found at the home of anti-Twilight campaigner Allan Thorneyflat.

The star of Twilight and forgettable footnote in the Harry Potter series claimed during a TV interview that if it came down to it, he would know what to do prompting thousands of Twihards to question whether Pattinson’s life was really worth all that bother. Here at hecklerspray, we know the consequences of wishing death on someone and in Pattinson’s case, we really, really don’t.

Why?

That’s simple. We have it on good authority that if Robert Pattinson died and was interred in a standard casket in a standard grave (dug to a depth of 7 feet), by the time putrifaction set in his essence would have already killed 90% of the indigenous tree populace in the immediate vicinity. It is projected that by the time his body fully decayed, 86% of the world’s trees would have wilted and died out of sheer boredom.

We don’t want that.

Anyway, the hopefully invincible 25-year-old admitted to Danish TV that he was a chivalrous young man when it came to romance. Speaking from inside an impressive, gilted suit of armour, Pattinson said;

“I think if you love anyone, you kind of feel like that. If you’re in love with anyone, I think the majority of people would say, ‘If I have to die for this person, I will.’”

He won’t if it’s unnecessary though. We imagine that he has a chart of possible outcomes that he keeps close at hand every time he leaves the house. We’ve never seen it but we imagine it looks something like this.

• Mugging – Her.
• Bank robbery – Me.
• Twihards charging down the street in force – Police horse.
• Abducted and held for ransom – Pay ransom.
• 160ft Dragon threatening the city and by consequence Kristen – Me.

It’s probably scrawled on the other side of his “to do” list which has had the same item left on it for years.

• Learn to act.

It has to be real love though. Pattinson believes that you can only truly know you love someone when you’re faced with a straight choice between their death and yours. He added in his droning, monotonous timbre;

“I mean, you don’t really love someone if you’re like, ‘No. Just let them die’.”

That could get really, really awkward. Want to know if Robert Pattinson really loves Kristen Stewart? You know what you have to do. Allan Thorneyflat can’t do it. He’s in jail.

Pop scamp Olly Murs has insisted that there’s nothing going on between him and his Xtra Factor co-host Caroline Flack despite there OBVIOUSLY BEING SOMETHING GOING ON BETWEEN HIM AND HIS XTRA FACTOR CO-HOST CAROLINE FLACK.

The Ex-Factor (hur hur) runner up has flatly stated that his flirty relationship with Ms. Flack is just that. Flirty and there is absolutely nothing going on that in any way involved nights of screaming passion where young Olly needs to “hold onto his stupid-looking trilby hat”.

Absolutely nothing.

Nothing at all.

Even though Olly’s mum found all those condoms under his bed and a little “Caroshrine” in his wardrobe. There’s absolutely nothing going on. Stop suggesting there is. Seriously. He doesn’t like it and neither does Caroline. Probably. No-one thought to ask her.

‘I’ve never snogged her,’ says Olly. ‘I’ve never got hold of her, I’ve never seen her naked.’

Olly’s a sensitive lad and he does prefer for the lights to be switched off when things get intimate although there is no accounting for why he insists on playing Joe McElderry’s version of “The Climb” on repeat. Everyone’s too polite to ask that in interviews.

‘I swear on my family’s life we’re not together!’

There are a lot of literal-minded people in the world and everyone here at hecklerspray hopes that he’s not been playing around with his co-host because we once saw his family on X Factor and they looked like a nice bunch. We’d hate to see them killed by some overly-righteous One Direction fan.

Okay, fine. We know there’s probably nothing going on (right now) because speaking of Wand Erection, the 32 year old Caroline was recently seen ramming her tongue down the throat of the 17 year old “curly-haired one” from One Direction, Harry Styles. Which is totally fine and everyone’s just jealous that she’s so young and is yet still able to “hook up” with someone almost half her age. It’s totally fine. There’s absolutely nothing morally questionable about that. He’s grown up a lot in this past year. He’s a celebrity now, yeah?

Even Olly seems pretty pleased about it. Supposedly the real thing will never live up to the glory of the Caroshrine. He told stunned onlookers,

‘They’re both single so they can do whatever they like. Harry likes older women and he’s always openly spoken to me about how much he likes Caroline.’

Presumably once Harry’s finished his A Levels there will be wedding bells on the horizon. If that’s not enough to make you shudder, we don’t know what is. Still, spare a thought for Olly. It must be hard to have all those women throwing themselves at him.

Effortlessness is of course the cornerstone of cool.

That’s why the Chesterfield hanging out of the corner of James Dean’s mouth is better than the Benson being desperately tugged on by the 14 yr old on the corner of your street. It’s why more guitarists want to be Hendrix than Angus Young. It’s why every indie rocker in the late 80s wanted to be J Mascis.

And with that Dinosaur Jr reference we’ll move clumsily and rather obviously onto Yuck, a band who seemingly can’t be described by writers outside of the context of their apparent influences. Which is a pity since Yuck’s crime isn’t sounding derivative, it ‘s sounding authentic.

There’s plenty of bands that sound like they spent too many nights arguing over which is the best Sonic Youth album but few that have managed to amount to anything more than an NME cover. Late 80s American indie-rock is a tough genre to incorporate into your sound and retain an identity. Bands seem to master the sound and forget to write any memorable tunes. It’s why Biffy Clyro only soared when they realised that their heroes Nirvana were great because they wanted to write pop songs and the distortion pedals were the means, not the end. It’s also why The Vines are just a footnote.

The thirty-somethings in the audience tonight no doubt appreciated the familiarity of some of Yuck’s melodies, but the reason their debut album will be featuring in everyone’s lists at the end of the year isn’t just some exploitation of the plaid pound but their knack for songwriting  that manages to be both catchy and emotive. As great as the bands closest to their sound are/were, few of them had hooks that took up long-term residence in your head ready to burst out when the shower starts. Freak Scene and Teenage Riot are the exceptions that prove the rule.

For a band with just a debut album to their name, their set contains very little filler. Sure, new track Soothe Me seems surplus to their existing singles but the repetitive refrain of The Wall gets a surprisingly calm audience moving. Not that Yuck are begging for approval, that effortlessness belies an appreciation of the power of the instant hook. At their best, such as on Georgia, they manage a combine that hook with a perfect mix of listlessness and heartfelt sincerity.  Yuck, however have two settings and they unleash the slow-burners in the encore. The penultimate song  features percussion mixed to virtual silence resulting in a psychedelic jam reminiscent of My Bloody Valentine on a boring day. Maybe it was just an enormous intro to Rubber, with which they finished. This is probably the sort of thing we should know.

So here Yuck are, finishing the first chapter of their career- an assured debut, comparisons to all the right bands and a benevolent press talking them up. The second chapter will almost certainly feature the high-profile support slot and the talked about festival appearances. What follows after, the second album, will be the test…

In the UK, the only real battle we have is between “Team Peter” and “Team Katie.” Whilst they’re both like persistant scabs who scar the celebrity landscape, people are genuinely torn between who they prefer. Do you go for the ex-tit model or a bloke who is so fame hungry, that he went back into the “I’m A Celebrity” Jungle of Obscurity?

Over in America, there are loads of couples who frequently split up once they’ve bagged the cash for the wedding tie-in photos or TV special. Ain’t that right Kim Kardashian? Occasionally though, a celeb breakup can be real and quite literally messy as Rihanna found out when human Muppet impersonator Chris Brown splattered her pretty face across the inside of his car with his fists.

Only idiotic “Team Breezy” fans are willing to ignore his bout of domestic violence and his further dickish acts of aggressive behaviour, instead claiming that the Crown Prince of Second Chances deserved a 312th chance. Restraining orders and court visits have passed and lifetime damage has have been done. We’re sure Rihanna will be thrilled to know that Chris Brown will be moving in down the street.

As we know all too well, Chris Brown is one of those rapper types. You know the sort, they parade around wearing clothes that are five sizes too big for them, parade around in music videos with their “bitches”, “hoes” and other gardening equipment all whilse wearing an assortment of bling that looks like tin foil concealing delicious chocolate underneath.

Essentially, rappers like everything on a grand scale. The house he bought would turn Grand Designs presenter Kevin McCloud giddy. We’re informed that:

“Brown purchased the glass-walled, three-bedroom, three-bathroom house for $1,550,000, getting a deal on the home that had been listed at $2,669,000 in 2009. The bachelor pad, designed by Jay Vanos, makes use of chrome and natural light and has an elevator from the garage to the main house.”

It’s the new neighbours of Chris Brown’s that we feel sorry for. Imagine living next door to someone who has a bedroom with a glass wall. The singer isn’t shy on getting his shrivelled up Frankfurter of a penis out, as photos on the internet disturbingly prove. But why is he moving in the first place? Is it out of spite to get back at Rihanna? No, it seems that buck tooth Brown has a problem with the disabled where he currently resides:

“Brown is selling his current West Hollywood home due to parking issues, as all the spots near his home were allocated as handicapped spots and the singer accrued thousands of dollars in parking tickets during his time living in the home.”

God damn those pesky disabled types who won’t let Chris Brown shave thirty seconds off his journey home. We’re just happy that he hasn’t started punching any of his handicapped neighbours to see if they’re telling the truth, or if they’re just benefit cheats. But for those out there who may be worried about poor Rihanna having to live close to her abuser, fear not, it probably won’t be for long. A letting agent blabbed to someone

“Rihanna has already put her Beverly Crest property on the market for a cool $4.5 million.”

Rihanna better move quick mind, with Chris Brown arriving, prices in the neighbourhood will quickly plummet.

Sarah Harding, or the blonde one from Girls Aloud, has spent the last wee while in rehab. Did you know that?

No, neither did we.

Is it that no-one told us or simply that the admission of a celebrity to rehab has become so commonplace that we now spend more time focussing on what Daniel O’Donnell’s up to. He’s nice. Grans like Daniel O’Donnell.

Sarah Harding doesn’t though. She thinks he’s boring and once interrupted a West

London club night to go on a forty-five minute tirade about how he was “dull” and that he should give her all of his doubloons. Yes, Ms. Harding had well and truly lost her shit.

After splitting from DJ boyfriend Tom Crane the Girls Aloud star seemed to hit rock bottom and with her angry tirade against “clean-cut bastard” O’Donnell, those closest to her told her that she should probably check into rehab before she was burned at the stake by a procession of furious Grandmothers.

Last week reports claimed that Harding and Crane (not a Law Firm) had decided to have another go at resurrecting their relationship, with Crane (a big O’Donnell fan) said to have forgiven Harding for her furious outbursts.

A friend, or someone from her PR company, told the Sunday Mirror:

“They’ve been in regular contact throughout her time away but only on the phone. They’ve spoken most days and it seems like they could have a chance of giving it another shot. She still loves Tommy… she’s just not sure if things can get back to where they were.”

Isn’t that nice? Harding will be back in the UK to celebrate her 30th birthday and it is thought that her loving family have bought her a private show with the Irish singer. Lucky, lucky girl.

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Fashion designers are a funny breed aren’t they? No other profession is full of characters that are religiously followed and praised for their movements. Do you monitor the work your local builder does? Course you don’t you arrogant tool. Do you keep up to date with what a professional footbal- oh.

All you have to do is say the name Marc Jacobs and people who know their stuff will tell you that you won’t be able to fill a wardrobe full of his creations for less than £30. That’s more for the fashion ‘working class’ like us, who’ll have to stick to Primark onesies and tear-stained sweatshirts.

A jumper from Marc Jacobs is likely to set you back £400+. All because people are morons and pay the price for organic, free range camel pubes. You know, as opposed to those ones you get from battery camels.

Designers also like to try new ideas. Perfumes are an easy market to break into as all you have to do give the product a snazzy name, create a fancy bottle and shoot a sexy advert. Two of the three steps were followed by Marc Jacobs, but there was a small issue with the use of model Dakota Fanning.

Star of movies such as Man On Fire, Dakota Fanning still hasn’t reached her twenties yet but has seemingly been in “the business” (not that business) for around thirty years. Is she the Peter Pan of actresses? We say this because everytime she appears in a big screen flick, Fanning always seems to play a timid child or emotionally stunted young women.

Due to the child like appearance of Fanning, it clearly struck a chord with the casting agency who were looking for someone to promote the badly named fragrance “Oh, Lola!” Take a look why don’t you?

That image is from The Daily Mail. They were so outraged that they felt the need to show the offending picture so that their readers could be truly outraged. Why have we done it?

We’re sick.

According to the ASA who govern British advertising, they believe that any bloke looking at that advert will start dribbling manically and roam the streets so they can find female prey to sexually molest. Well, that’s the message we got anyway. That was just us reading between the lines. The ASA released a statement saying:

“We noted that the model was holding up the perfume bottle which rested in her lap between her legs and we considered that its position was sexually provocative.”

Looking a little closer, the bottle was nestled precariously close to her lady garden and because Dakota’s surname sounds extremely like the word ‘fanny’, we can only assume that the prudes out there in advertising land nearly collapsed into a coma with so much filth flying around at the one time. Brilliantly, it seems that people behind the Marc Jacobs admit to creating a paedophilic look for their brand. Someone from the ASA said, in a very stern tone:

“We understood the model was 17 years old but we considered she looked under the age of 16. We considered that the length of her dress, her leg and position of the perfume bottle drew attention to her sexuality. Because of that, along with her appearance, we considered the ad could be seen to sexualise a child. We therefore concluded that the ad was irresponsible and was likely to cause serious offence.”

Imagine if Michael Jackson was alive and releasing dodgy merchandise? The poor children sleeping over at Neverland would just be thinking they were taking part in an innocent photoshoot; all before being used as part of sexy labelling for soup, crayons and carpet cleaner.

Chilling.

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Professional headcase Tom Cruise has admitted to being terrified of the melodic word with his fear coming to a very public fore while filming his new waste of time “Rock Of Ages”.

Tom Cruise is well renowned throughout the world, both as an actor, a producer and as someone who doesn’t know when a franchise is dead (See: Mission: Impossible) but his ability to sing has never been called into question. Even in 1983 “classic” Risky Business, Tom used Bob Seger as a voice double during his trouserless performance of Old Time Rock n’ Roll.

Let’s be fair to Tom though, singing is a terrifying experience. One need only spend five minutes in the company of a Glee Survivor to know that not only are their vocal chords destroyed, their careers are all-but ruined by incessant autotune abuse. DARE to say no to singing.

Still, Cruise will be playing a character called Stacee Jaxx (RAWK!) in the Hollywood version of the Broadway play, meaning he’ll be strapping on some leather trousers and cracking out his best Lulu impression to hit some of rock’s classic tracks.

Apparently, singing is more terrifying than any stunt he’s ever performed. Even that one where he climbs a mountain without any safety harnesses wearing a horrible pair of sunglasses. Or the one where he punches a helicopter out of the air (stay tuned for Ghost Protocol). He told the LA Times:

“They all have their risks.”

Most things do. The actor shied away from thanking Aliens or Master Hubbard for his “god”-given musical talent, instead deciding to thank his earthly oracle and How I Met Your Mother guest star- Katie Holmes-Cruise:

“I had started dancing because I was inspired by my wife. She kept saying, ‘You’ve got to do a musical sometime’.

“Kate’s a dancer, so she would say, ‘Let’s go to dance class’, and she would take us and that’s how I kind of came up with the idea of Les Grossman doing hip-hop. And then to take it to this level with this? It was really fun.”

It better be, Tom. It better be.

Hello. Are you a Westlife fan, troubled by the news that your Princes are going away to enjoy their moneyed-lives with their families and friends? Are you worried that there will suddenly be a void of mawkish, soaring ballads to sooth you while you self-harm in a bath of ice?

It’s bad news we’re afraid.

Westlife’s members have confirmed that the musical equivalent of an itchy jumper are unlikely to ‘do a Take That’ and get back together in a few years. Is it because Take That were always more relevant to pop music or is it because the Boyzone tribute market isn’t as lucrative as it once was? Who knows. Certainly not us.

There’s definitely no question of money. Especially not after Westlife announced that they will part next year after releasing a greatest hits compilation and going on a tour of Ireland & the UK (because no other countries care). Definitely nothing to do with grabbing a quick buck before they head of into the wilderness to await their call to the Never Mind The Buzzcocks ‘line-up’.

Kian (whoever that is) told someone or other that definitely wasn’t us:

“We walked away from a multi-million-pound record deal that would have changed our lives forever, secured our future beyond anything.”

Not that they’re skint, you understand. A career of covering other people’s hard work and standing from a stool when middle-aged women scream at you is both reminiscent of a Chippendale and surprisingly lucrative.

“It’s not about the money. We’d have made far more on a new record than we ever would with a comeback tour.”

Oh, good. It’s not about the money. They’ve decided they don’t want to put out a concept album. Presumably a concept album of them covering other people’s concept songs. We can’t confirm anything because they’re splitting up. Kian refused to address the issue of how much money they would make out of a greatest hits album and a farewell tour, having our hecklerspray reporter removed when he audaciously suggested that he was a money-obsessed hypocrite in a stained white suit.

Still they’ll make some money from their inevitable solo careers. Another Westlife member- apparently- Shane also told reporters that they will support each other when one decides to release an awful solo album, aiming to become the 21st Century’s Daniel O’Donnell.

“The first person to decide to do a solo record, the other three will all be there.

Wait… if they’re all there… would that not be another Westlife record?

“Everyone’s thought about going solo — I would love to continue singing for a living.”

At the moment though, Westlife are channelling all their efforts into the farewell tour, making sure that their stage show isn’t as boring as their music. Luckily, nothing was mentioned about ticket prices. It’s not about the money after all. It’s about the opportunity to say goodbye to their fans. Perhaps they’ll waves handkerchiefs… or £50 notes.

In case you gave half a hoot, Brian McFadden (the one whose name you know because he mounted Kerry Katona like a peroxide stallion) will not be joining them on stage. Apparently he has enough money. Somehow.

“We still sext him and stuff, but he’s not coming back.”

It’s a terrible time to be a Westlife fan. But then by the same token, we imagine it’s not been a great 13 years. Don’t worry though. They’ll be back in a few years. Bet your house on it.

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10. Not content with being a famous actor/musician/turkey-peddler Martin Kemp has taken to inventing emoticons. Is there no end to this man’s talents?!

9. Hallowe’en’s coming so here’s a gentleman teaching you how to TEAR YOUR GOD DAMNED EYE OUT!! Or at least make it look like you did.

8. No internet round up would be complete without something to do with a CAT now, would it?

7. “Let’s fly the kids out to be with their parents in a war zone!” “But that’s a terrible idea!” “It wasn’t me, it was the work experience kid.” Oh…

6. Invented Time Travel: What have you ever done?

5. Sexism’s cool, right? That must be why this story’s on the Newsbeat page.

4. Just what in the name of blue balls is flarf poetry? It hardly matters. Or maybe this interview by Ruth Tolerton with poet Spencer Madsen will explain. MAYBE.

3. It’s almost Hallowe’en so of course you want to go as a… wait… a “sexy” Wolverine? Riggggghhhhht.

2. Herman Cain, nefarious Presidential candidate has a campaign video that’s just bound to go viral. It’s Block Being Block.

1. A whole range of Star Wars ice-cube trays? Well… if you insist.

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Jessie J was one of the big winners at the MoBO Awards in Glasgow, winning in four of the five categories she was nominated in and leaving music industry insiders asking “Who will win next year when everyone’s forgotten about Jessie J?”

Of course, hecklerspray would have brought you a nice report of the whole evening and maybe some lovely little interviews with some of the rich gits who were nominated. However, the PR Company for the ceremony (who will remain nameless for the simple reason that we can’t be bothered to go and look up their name) decided that you, the readers of hecklerspray, weren’t worthy of getting any first hand reports.

Hence the reason this report is full of wild conjecture and rude words. Blame the MoBOs; not us.

Anyway, back to Jessie J and all those pointless awards that she won. The Price Tag singer won “Best UK Act”, “Best Newcomer” (because apparently you can win both), “Best Song” for ‘Do It Like A Dude’ and, as if all that didn’t quite add up to four, “Best Album” for ‘Who You Are’. Unfortunately for Miss J, she missed out on the “Best Video” award, with that dubious accolade going to Tinchy Stryder and N-Dubz “hard man” Dappy for their track ‘Spaceship’.

Adele won “Best Tax Evasion Tactic”, Rihanna took the “Best Arse Before The Watershed” gong, while Tinie Tempah went home the “Best Commercialised Nonsense” award. He also went home with more than he bargained for when an obsessive fan threw an empty kettle, emblazoned with the words “Tempah 4Eva”, at him. That might not have happened.

We have no way of knowing as we weren’t there.

Warbler Adele, Hungry Hungry Tempah and Wretch 32 (who we’ve never even heard of) were each shortlisted for four awards at the show hosted by well-known charisma vacuums Jason Derulo and Alesha Dixon.

Kanya King, founder of MoBO, said:

“Blah blah blah blah blah Mobo roll of honour blah blah blah Adele, blah blah UK’s hot blah blah blah Tinchy Stryder and of course the bloody woeful Jessie J walking away with four awards, despite not actually winning any. The thieving charlatan.”

Elsewhere in the awards to end all awards, American R&B group Boyz II Men were awarded a prize for an outstanding contribution to music. Which, we imagine, is just what they’ve always wanted. To be recognised by some po-faced awards ceremony which has all the entertainment value of being repeatedly beaten around the head with a pirated DVD copy of the Footloose remake.

Still, at least they got to go. We can’t wait until next year to find out who the ‘new Jessie J’ is.

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