You’ve had a very hard week haven’t you? That Diane in accounting asked you to do that did she? She takes you for granted so much you know. We at hecklerspray love you very much. We would never take you for granted.

What you want to do is, pour yourself a massive gin (it’s the Queen’s favourite don’t you know) and get so blitzed that you don’t know where you are until the hangover kicks in at around Monday dinner time, just in time for a Boots meal deal. That’d be a great way to spend a weekend wouldn’t it? Absolutely off your face. Imagine not knowing how you got scratches and bruises. Intense.

If that isn’t for you though, maybe you’re a bit skint, or maybe ecstasy is your one true passion? Then we have the second best thing to do this weekend, and that’s watch all these brilliant TV shows and talk to us about them. A human conversation with someone. How avant garde.

FRIDAY

The Making Of Elton John: Madman Across The Water, BBC Four, 10:00pm

When Elton John isn’t dissing Madonna, or starring in Pepsi adverts for the Super Bowl, he claims he’s got a music career. Although we haven’t seen much of that since he duped Justin Timberlake to play him in the video for ‘This Train Don’t Stop There Anymore,’ it’s impossible to claim that he hasn’t had a major part of our musical heritage. From the bizarre jumpsuits and glasses, to the less bizarre outfits but more elaborate career choices, the man from Middlesex, has lived a varied and, not all together uninteresting life.

This documentary looks at the early Elton’s childhood, his apprenticeship at DJM Records and his eventual raise to supermegastardom. Bernie Taupin (Elton’s bezzie) and Leon Russell, his American BFF, blow smoke up his ass for our pleasure.

Here is Elton singing one of the greatest songs ever recorded ever with some Muppets

Toughest Place To Be A Bin Man, BBC2, 9:00pm

We all complain about our jobs at some point; whether it be delivering stinky babies from stinky lady holes, or being a PA to a demanding, misogynistic numpty, but have you thought about what it’s like emptying your bins for a living? It’ll be grim. Imagine the stuff that he’s seen. Never mind paparazzi going through your rubbish, its the bin men that you should be wary of.

Well this new BBC series, that pits our bin men against extreme bin men (that we hope will be flipping off wheelie bins and various other parkour stunts) takes us to one of the fastest growing cities in the World. Not the cultural bacteria between Sarah Ferguson’s toes when they gain sentience, but Jakarta, in Indonesia. With a population that easy passes 30 million, imagine the huge undertaking cleaning up their Dominos boxes and used tissues.

Wilbur Ramirez, our contestant in the Rubbish Olympics, travels to the land that squalor and poverty forgot to see how Imam, one of thousands of semi-destitute bin men who keep the streets of Jakarta that little bit less disgusting.

Don’t watch with your tea.

SATURDAY

Harry Hill’s TV Burp, ITV1, Whenever it’s on

We could blather on about how this series is the final series of one of the greatest primetime comedies for decades, or how Saturday night will probably never be the same once Dom Joly takes over and makes what is essentially Beadle’s About, or even how we will never marry make a honest woman of the Knitted Character, but instead of wasting your time, we’ll just leave you with this.

Look at Will. I. Am’s stupid glasses. This isn’t Tron sillyhead.

Take Me Out, ITV1, 7:45pm

Let the girl with the daddy issues see the abusive womaniser! This week sees three more struggling actors put aside any self worth and throw themselves at the mercy of 30 single women.

Trying to sum up with Take Me Out is so jaw achingly bad its like trying to keep up with a perpetual motion machine. Just as you react to one ball-bustingly bad bit the next one is veering towards you like Halle Berry speeding away from a traffic accident. It’s impossible to fully comprehend how disgusting Take Me Out will make you feel, but, if on the off chance you haven’t had enough and want to hate yourself a little bit more, then Mark Wright and some dafty present the deformed conjoined twin show. Do not say we didn’t warn you. If we could put a TV show in biohazard containment, it would be this.

SUNDAY

True Blood, FX, 10:00pm

The new series of True Blood is finally upon us, forcing it’s way on top of us like we’d imagine Dracula would do after watching Michael Roux Jr. cooking a steak barely rare (his accent is so sexy). Picking up a year after the end of Series Three concluded, and examining how Russell Edgington’s rampage has affected the already tense relationship between the mortals and vampires in Bon Temps.

Truth be told, we’re not sure that anyone watches True Blood for the story, and instead they use the 70 minutes to perv over Alexander Skarsgard, Sam Trammell and Ryan Kwanten. Which is bound to be plentiful, so get practicing those finger kegel exercises ladies, you’ve only got until Sunday.

Queens of British Pop, BBC2, 7:00pm

Who here likes pop music? Pop music could be one of the most important mediums in a modern culture, after all, imagine how boring Twitter would be if we didn’t have Jessie J or Lana Del Ray to vent our anonymous spleens about? Heck, the hecklerspray bedsit would be a more dilapidated hovel than it already is. And we already cook our beans over the exposed innards of our stolen TV.

Well gay men, feminists and musos rejoice! There’s a new show focusing, not on the sometimes antiquated and definitely over-worked subject of the influence men have had on pop music (even last week there was a whole night dedicated to Paul McCartney, with not a peep about Mari Wilson), but on women, and what women have done to the modern face of music. Exciting news, right?

The first show focuses solely on the 60s and 70s, with the archetypal female singers that every act over the past two decades has tried to emulate. Dusty Springfield, Sandie Shaw (see last week’s WATCH THIS! for our sole piece of Sandie Shaw trivia), Suzi Quatro and Kate Bush take centre stage with human leatherette three piece, Tom Jones, the only man to make drain pipes sexy, Jarvis Cocker and Henry “Eyyyyy!” Winkler jabber like drunken monkeys about what filth Marianne Faithfull got up to.

Join us here again next week, as we’ll still be probably singing ‘Wuthering Heights’ and backcombing what hair we have left, and will need someone to put us to bed and pop a bucket next to us. Just in case.

TSCHUS!

Eamonn Holmes is a man famed for the legendary status of his gargantuan gob.

Not only is it capable of producing more crap than his backside on a day-to-day basis, but when it isn’t spewing verbal sewage it’s being stuffed with all manner of deep-fried goodies.

Well, let’s hope Eamonn has deep-fried his foot after he managed to, once again, get it firmly lodged between his gums during an interview on This Morning.

Holmboy was interviewing a woman who was described as a, “sex addict,” or slag as they’re oft’ known in certain parts of Essex, when he dared to ask her:

“If you need this five or six times a day, have you never thought about making a business of it? Charging for it?”

Taxi for Holmes.

It transpires that sex addicts don’t like it when you ask them why they don’t just become prostitutes, because apparently they’re people too.

Albeit people who like to blame their socially blossoming genitalia on an addiction, in the hope that people will feel sorry for them as opposed to questioning how many STIs they have or asking them if they’ve ever considered becoming a prostitute live on daytime TV.

THIS IS SERIOUS DAMMIT, STOP LAUGHING!

Oh, you weren’t?

The bonking bonkers lady in question, Crystal Warren, curtly told Uncle Eamonn that she didn’t want to go on the game because:

“Then it becomes a business, then I become maybe like a robot. This way I am enjoying it, I do it when I want to do it, I get to choose who I sleep with.”

It’s the business side of prostitution that’s definitely the worst part of it, after all, who really knows how you go about claiming condoms as a tax-deductible expense?

Seriously. HMRC wouldn’t return our calls.

Hello readers. Have a good week? If our frighteningly accurate hecklerscopes are correct, then most of you are either dead or feeling a very real sense of shame and self loathing. Either is fine with us. For those of you still here, let’s look at what’s going to happen in Soapland this week.

Yep, you guessed it, Eastenders first and before we begin, we’d like to announce some exciting news which may not be true but we’ll share it with you anyway.

Heather will be brutally murdered by Ben! hecklerspray writer Robin Darke predicted that she’d be killed by George Michael who would then launch a campaign of terror culminating in him pissing all over Arthur’s bench, but we’ll settle for Ben being all stabby.

Characters are  leaving!  Yes – Mo, Mandy, Afia, Amira, Tyler, Anthony, Billy and Lola are all for the chop and this means we’ll get loads more fresh talent and stop getting ghosts of Eastenders past, returning whenever they feel like it. What? Oh….

Sharon is returning.

Anyway,  Jane left last week under a cloud of mascara and snotters and no-one cares as they’re all too busy being self centered and fictional. The Bland Brothers Tyler and Anthony owe money to Derek for reasons we’ve already forgotten and he tells them to either cock it or walk it. No. Sorry, he tells them to help him out in committing a crime or he’ll break their spindly little legs. Then Patrick gets involved and then Michael and then the Police and it’s all rather tedious. Janine steps in and offers to pay Derek off and we long for the old days when she’d have laughed and happily skipped over their corpses while hurling abuse at passing pigeons.

Shirley convinces soon to be murderer Ben to visit Phil in prison and of course Phil tells him to retract his statement and he’ll forget about the whole thing. Probably not the ‘gay’ thing but the blackmail thing anyway. Ben says he’ll dance on Phil’s grave when he dies and we really hope it’s in some sort of German slap folk dancing.

Roxy’s little angel Amy pinches George at playgroup and Whitney decides to have it out with the parents (as she’s now qualified in child psychology after two minutes working in a nursery making rice maracas), telling Roxy and Jack it’s their fault for squabbling so much. They grass her up to her boss and Whitney thinks she’ll lose her job. She doesn’t. Those preschool pasta faces won’t stick themselves to the paper – she’s a valued member of staff.

Elsewhere, Lucy interrupts a passionate moment between Ian and Mandy as she continues to compete with Mandy for her Dad’s affection which is quite creepy really. Heather gets engaged (DEATH IS COMING HEATHER) and Fat Boy thinks Whitney is cheating on him because she probably is.

Next we shuffle off to Coronation Street where Frank’s trial begins and Carla takes the stand. Oh it’s exciting isn’t it? Both her and Peter deny having an affair until photographs are shown of them kissing and then Leanne wonders if she can ever forgive the insipid alcoholic.  But the burning question is- DOES HE GET SENT DOWN FOR RAPE??? The answer to that is-  NO HE DOESN’T. Cleared of all charges. So we hear anyway. Our ‘sources’ are very unreliable.

With Becky gone, Tracy is determined to make it work with Steve but he tells her that he never loved her and in fact still loves Becky.  She then returns home to find that Owen has turned No.13 into two self contained flats and threatens to tell the council as he didn’t get planning permission. Oh shut up.

Finally, we’re going to visit Casualty as apparently it’s also a soap. Who knew?  After taking on her sister’s two children, someone called Linda tries to fit them in around her working life and gets help from someone who we know even less about.  An old lady called Doris has Alzheimer’s and is attacked leaving Lloyd to try and figure out what happened. Then Keith returns complaining on neck pain and Zoe thinks it could be caused by the time he was forcibly restrained by Sam after he threatened Dylan in the ED? What does any of that mean?

Glad that’s over? So are we and as promised here’s another soap star making themselves look like an idiot. Here’s Adam Rickitt all naked and ending his singing career before it even started.

Ka-loo ka-lay everyone! It’s almost the end of the week, and just like Lenny Henry tells us on those awful hotel adverts, it’s almost time for the weekend. And what’s a weekend all about? Going out, getting trashed and generally being like those pesky kids from Skins, sitting around in your pants as much as you can in 48 hours.

It’s what sets us aside from the animals y’know. They can’t figure out the little hole bit for willies.

It’d be remiss, and frankly irresponsible of us, as your favourite website of all time ever in the history of Google, to not keep you occupied between your next bottle of something fizzy or yeasty. It’d be like the 1994 film, Baby’s Day Out. You clearly can’t be left to your own devices can you? Sometimes, just sometimes, you actually make us sorry to know you.

So, like sheep to a machine that would slice their throat and ceremoniously bleed them to death, ready to be skinned, chopped and packaged in cellophane for your delectation, this is what you should be watching over the upcoming weekend. Make sure you do watch it mind, there’ll be a quiz afterwards and we wouldn’t want you to look like a dick.

Friday

Martina Cole’s Lady Killers, ITV3, 9:00pm

Serial killers are big business. Knock up a book with a feisty female detective and a particularly gruesome killer and you could be on the Richard and Judy Summer Booklist; a heady accolade indeed. Reading about the reasons behind notorious killings can be entertaining for two reasons: to better understand the human condition and what drives it to such depraved extremes, and to get tips to pull off the perfect crime spree.

So to help us all in our rampages crime writer Martina Cole has created this series about six of the most notorious female killers in history. Tonight is the turn of Myra Hindley. Which is slightly by-the-by to be honest, because the star of the show is Cole herself, who is the exact opposite of what you’d expect a crime writer to be. She’s essentially a female Phil Mitchell. Gruffer than chewing a plate full of pebbles and more mannish than Fatima Whitbread, this woman is something great. Believe.

How The Brits Rocked America: Go West, BBC4, 9:00pm

How great is music from the 60s please?

We could’ve just left our look at BBC4’s Friday night of documentaries at that, because you’re probably already sold and setting your Sky+, but that would be bad journalism and that’s something we strive not to do at HS. Sometimes it just gets away from us, mainly due to Chris Brown saying and doing such stupid things.

The first episode is a new series looking at how British brands broke the illustrious US market in the 60s. So there’ll be lots of footage of The Beatles. Followed up by the also-rans that are The Hollies, Herman’s Hermits and The Animals. With contributions by Sir Paul McCartney, Peter Noone, Donovan and Micky Dolenz, this will be a lovely reminiscent look at an era that changed music forever. Swinging.

Saturday

TOTP2: The 60s, BBC2, 23:35pm

Not only content with watching almost every minute of The Beatles’ career last night, you can also see what else was going on during the 60s in this brain friendly summing up of the main songs to come from the 1960s. So we’re looking at Beat music, the opening shots of the British Invasion, some of the greatest blues music of all time, and psychedelia. We dare you to watch this and not feel a) completely at ease with yourself afterwards, and b) want to cave something sharp into Ed Sheeran’s face for ruining music for everyone.

Look forward to seeing Cilla Black, Dusty Springfield, Tom Jones, Sandie Shaw* (with no shoes probably) and Fleetwood Mac, and literally slatherings of Eurovision.

Airline: The Story Of Pan Am, BBC2, 10:00pm

Pan Am. A name synonymous with glamour and a woman knowing her place, that being at a man’s beckon call. It means a lot of things, to a lot of people. Clever people who know things like history and economy. And luckily for you dense collections of cells, they’ve made a lovely documentary for you to stick your telly balls at. Generous, generous people, them at the BBC. Find out how Pan Am kick started a new age of travel and managed to shrink the World, and made jaunty hats the absolute bee’s knees. Also, Honor Blackman narrates it. She was in The Upper Hand, so that’s got to count for something. It had a McGann in it.

Sunday

The Only Way Is Essex, ITV2, 10:00pm

The hecklerspray bedsit is literally a-buzz this weekend. But aside from the boiler that we can’t afford to get fixed, it’s because we’re all excited about the return of the The Only Way Is Essex in our lives. We love it. The way that they’re all vacuous, spunk trumpets keeps us so entertained week after week.

It’s all go down Essex way with Mark Wright, Harry Derbridge, Kirk Norcross, Maria Fowler and those arseholes Greek twins hanging up their Tanfastic clubcards and handing the reins of crazy orange madness to a massive twelve new cast members. Not much is known about the new additions, because they’ve only recently being let out of their test tubes for filming, but one is bezzie with Rochelle Wiseman, who professionally blows the tall one from JLS, and the other is best friend of Joey Essex. A man so unusually retarded that even dogs can pick things up faster than him. He’s got the intelligence of an orange. Bunch of pricks; entertaining, self hating pricks.

The TV Book Club, More4, 7:10pm

Panel shows are dreadful aren’t they? The way that they are almost exclusively populated by male comedians thinking that they are the funniest people on the planet even though it’s only differing versions of Hugh Dennis and Russell Howard. And the way that they are edited to within an inch of their existence by overzealous producers is sickening. It makes us physically sick. We have to have the sick bucket next to us whenever we attempt to watch Mock The Week.

The TV Book Club is different to the tired format which the BBC wank themselves rare over, and there’s a new series starting on More4, with new Caroline Quentin and Meera Syal joining regular hosts Dave Spikey (urgh) and Laila Rouass (indifferent) to talk about S.J. Watson’s ‘Before I Go To Sleep.’ And without a boss eyed splat of jizz in sight.

* HS FACT: Despite already being called the fantastically geographical Sandy Shore, she wanted to take it to the next level and snared fashion designer and Clothes Show megastar Jeff Banks, and became…DUN DUN DERR…Sandie Banks. FAS-CI-NA-TING.

It’s soap spoiling time again you lucky people!  Once again we’ve been held at gunpoint and forced to write stuff about something we’d only care less about if we were dead. Want to know what exciting things happen in Hollyoaks this week?  Tough. We didn’t include them.

As usual we’re off to Eastenders first and before we give you this weeks predictable spoilers, we’d like to jump up and down topless in appreciation of Kim, who’s near death rubbish pile romance scene with Ray was our highlight of last week.

This week Ben’s hilarious plan to get his dad arrested has finally worked. Yes Phil Mitchell has been charged with the murder of Stella in a plot so drawn-out we had to look on YouTube to remember what actually happened. We’re still not sure.  However, the smug grin is soon wiped off his face when Shirley throws him out and he’s forced to go and live with Ian Beale and as you all know, when you move in with Ian you have to marry him – it’s Eastenders law.

Anyway, it seems that once upon a time, Bianca managed to sleep with someone who wasn’t completely unattractive! New face Ray is determined to be a dad to Morgan and offers to cook dinner for the Butchers. He then reveals he has a daughter called Sasha and Bianca isn’t happy. OH THERE’S A SHOCKER.  Still, our protests last week seem to have worked and Ricky has pissed off, so hopefully Bianca will be next.

Elsewhere, Tanya and Jane fall out over her plans to go to Wales, Lucy confronts Mandy over her secret phone calls and Derek gives Ben a jumper. This isn’t a euphemism.

Next we go to Coronation Street because you lot moan when we don’t write about it. Tracy and Steve get married this week and as Tracy is a scheming, lying villain, you know this won’t end well or have any comedy value whatsoever. Yes Becky gatecrashes the church to tell Steve that Tracy is all of those things we’ve just mentioned and manages to ruin the whole bloody charade.  Don’t fret though, BECKY IS LEAVING! We’ve already put bunting up in the hecklerspray bedsit as between her and Ricky Butcher being removed from our televisons, we haven’t been this happy in a long time. Pete and Carla share some really unconvincing kisses and plan a secret hotel rendezvous so they can engage in some really mediocre sex acts. What they don’t know is that Frank has a private investigator following them, called Trish.  Trish?

Trish was always one step ahead.

Finally, despite the fact we haven’t watched Neighbours in 25 years, we’ll still tell you stuff as you obviously haven’t moved on.  First of all, Guy Pearce is a brilliant actor. He’s done really well for himself hasn’t he? Sadly he’s not in Neighbours anymore, but do you know who still is? Stefan Dennis, aka Paul Robinson.  This week he puts together his case to fight for Kate’s career. We don’t know who Kate is but you probably do so that’s all that matters. Emilia teaches Tash some Wiccan method called ‘grounding’ which hopefully involves her being buried alive somewhere and someone called Chris is gay.

It’s fair to say we’ve all learned something important this week.

Anyway, let us end this excuse for a feature with a video of a soap star doing something they should be particularly ashamed of.

Expect more of these.

This week’s Dancing on Ice was apparently Movie Week. Really, it was just dodgier outfits than usual, a few rubbish puns and some nicely manufactured drama. There were injuries! There were dangerous lifts! And there was Heidi Sugababe’s golden vadge! Her terrifying, terrifying golden ladybits.

Before old Bigface Sugababe assaulted our eyes with her genitals though, the rest of the skaters were subjected to injury and actual sexual assault. Like Jennifer Ellison, who has ruined her ribs, apparently. Which was INCREDIBLY DRAMATIC and caused her to change her routine at the last moment and look like she was about to die when she came off the ice.

We did not feel the required amount of sympathy. Although that’s maybe because we have no soul.

Trying to nab herself some non-existent sympathy was Charlene, who gatecrashed Jennifer’s ruined ribs party. She forgot to do the requisite crying and looking upset, but she did dress up as Marilyn Monroe. Which was frankly terrifying.

But not as terrifying as what happened to Rosemary Conley. Poor, sweet old Rosemary Conley. Her partner grabbed her by the ladybits and hoiked her onto his shoulder, which looked both uncomfortable and wrong. It was a bit like watching someone molest your gran. But with added lycra, and some extra sequins.

It wasn’t just the old who were being interfered with on live TV though. Jorgie Porter also found herself being touched inappropriately when she was made to do a “sit lift”. Which involved her quite literally sitting on her partner’s hand as he held her above his head and kept a tight grip on her pants. At least, he said it was her pants. We didn’t want to think about it too hard.

Whatever was going on in Jorgie’s pants clearly worked, as she found herself top of the leader board and pitched against the previous week’s skating master Matt. Who is more about actual assault than sexual assault; he dropped his partner AND crushed her in rehearsal. Which clearly scared the judges enough to make sure they gave him the same score as Jorgie. Which was just bloody boring of them, really.

Person least likely to assault anyone meanwhile was Sebastian, who needed to be reminded that he even had a partner at all. He and Brianne had been working all week to remember to be good with each other, which sort of kind of worked. A bit. Apparently Sebastian’s “style” was cocking things up a bit. Whatever his “style” is.

Down at the other end of the leaderboard, ITV was rubbing salt in the wounds of Corey Feldman’s failed career by making him skate to a song from his own movie, Stand by Me. He responded by announcing himself to be a great dancer. His only evidence seemed to be that he was friends with Michael Jackson. Clearly Michael was already heavily sedated when he told Corey that he was a great dancer though, because Corey was dismal. Really, really dismal.

A bit like Mark of Sam and Mark. According to partner Frankie he’s improved, but she doesn’t have a surname and does have an annoying face, so we chose to ignore her. They spent as much of their routine as possible off of the ice and then were the happiest anyone has ever been to make it into double figures. It’s good to know they’ve got low standards.

The other half of Sam and Mark, meanwhile, was trying his absolute best to kill his partner with a backflip. On live TV. He’d been cocking it up all week and throwing her off in seemingly random directions, but he annoyingly managed not to throw her onto her head in front of the entire nation. He did do some really embarrassing kung-fu dancing though. The poor bastard.

Also struggling with a move was Chemmy, who was scared of a lift. What she should’ve been scared of though, was the wrath of God. Because Chemmy started off dressed as a nun, and then did some stripping. The two of them couldn’t get it up though. The lift, that is. Because God didn’t want them to. Then Katarina Witt told Chemmy that she was a Big Woman, because Chemmy had insulted God, and so God told Katarina to call her fat.

It wasn’t just Chemmy’s costume that was playing silly buggers though. Chico got stuck trying to be romantic and passionate in that most romantic of outfits, the boilersuit. Andy got his hand stuck in his ridiculous Grease wig. And Heidi. Oh dear God. Heidi.

After horrifying us with shots of her golden catsuit throughout the show, Heidi appeared as the final skater. Because she wanted to maximise the amount of time she could horrify us for. Apparently the catsuit was part of her attempt to “sexify” a Bond theme. We definitely became very well acquainted with her anatomy, but it was more traumatic than sexy.

Still, somebody somewhere clearly liked it, because after being unceremoniously dumped into the skate off in the first week, she made it through. As did everyone except for Charlene and Mark, who were forced to skate again.

It turned out that Mark’s “improvement” wasn’t enough, and he got sent home, leaving poor Sam alone. Hopefully he’ll realise that life is actually better without Mark, thus leading to the end of Sam and Mark as any kind of televisual unit and making the world a far, far better place. We’ll be voting to keep him in. Because a world without Sam and Mark is something we’ll never stop hoping for.

Head Judges. Every reality show has one, even the ones where they can’t quite work out who the head judge is (yes, we’re looking at you, X Factor). And on Dancing on Ice, that privilege lies with Robin Cousins. Unfortunately for everyone else though, it seems the producers forgot to explain the show to him.

Robin Cousins, you see, has pretty much entirely missed the point of the show that he presides over. Which is a competition to find the celebrity that is best at skating round in circles and doing a bit of twirling. According to Mr Cousins, though, the celebrities only have to compete with themselves. Get that?

They’re not competing with each other, just themselves. Which makes for a pretty shit show unless ITV have been cloning celebrities in some kind of spectacular reality-meets-unnatural science experiment.

Oh, it seems that they haven’t. The idiots. So we just had the normal celebrities going round in circles.

Really taking the “competing with yourself” words to heart was some bloke called Sebastian, who apparently leaps about a bit and was once in Casino Royale. He was so busy competing with himself that he forgot about his partner, and just went around on his own being all spins and leaps and speed and spangles. If this were a competition he’d be a contender. But it’s not a competition.

Also focussed on herself was Jennifer Ellison, who apparently has self-esteem issues. She should come to the hecklerspray bedsit. We’ll show her some low self-esteem. Young Jennifer though decided to get her confidence back by skating about in a leotard and doing the splits a lot, thus ensuring that a lot of teenage boys will be focussing on her as well. Well… aiming.

Just when it looked like everyone in the entire show was a self-centred knobjockey, along came Rosemary Conley. Who has been learning to skate for two years and yet is still the slowest thing on earth. That’s OK though, because she’s also lovely and grandmotherly and takes tea to practice. She’s so very nice that her partner even felt compelled to save her from falling over when she nearly stacked it at the start of her routine. Because he loves her more than the audience. Not because it’s a competition. Definitely not.

The competition was so non-existent that not even Sam of the appalling freakshow that is Sam and Mark could be arsed. The producers tried to make out that there was a rivalry between the kids TV cretins, but neither of them seemed to really care. Which reduces the chances that one will a little bit maim the other with those sharp skate blades. Which is a real shame, especially as Sam was the one most likely to be maimed since he’s much, much better than Mark.

Considerably more likely to snap and maim someone is former childstar Corey Feldman. He doesn’t care what people think of him. He just doesn’t want to hurt himself. Unfortunately for Corey though, he’s pretty much entirely useless and spent his entire routine looking quite a lot like he was going to fall over. It’s ok though, because his partner has clearly found a time machine which has brought her straight here from the 80s, so she can take him back in time and give him a few more rehearsals. About five more years should do it.

That time machine could also come in handy for Laila Morse, who managed to hurt herself back before the show had even started properly. She had the audacity to injure her shoulder off-camera, which was just selfish and boring of her as we didn’t even get to laugh at her pain. Still, who cares about her shoulder; apparently she’s Gary Oldman’s sister. Gary Fucking Oldman. How the hell did we miss that?

Last-minute replacement Chico, meanwhile does not have stability or balance. We weren’t sure if they were talking about his skating or his life in general, but either way it wasn’t going to be a problem, because Chico had the power of Chesney Hawkes behind him. Which is clearly very, very strong, because Chico matched Jorgie’s crazy high score from last week.

It looked briefly like Chico was going to end the night on top of the leaderboard, but unfortunately for him some bloke called Matthew from Emmerdale did remember it was a competition. And Matthew wants to win that competition and beat everyone else into a pulp. So he set ridiculously high standards, swore at himself a bit and put on some pleather. Because apparently that’s how you win a competition that isn’t a competition. By dressing like a ridiculous gimp. He got a huge score though, so clearly the judges liked it.

At skate-off time it turned out that Corey’s time machine clearly wasn’t working all that well. He joined Laila-secret-brother in the bottom two, where the judges all booted Laila off “for the sake of her health”. Not because she was old and rubbish, but because she was competing with herself, and herself – in the form of her shoulder- had won.

So there you have it: Laila misses out on next week’s Movie Week extravaganza, where we expect the time machine and cloning that were hiding out the back of this week’s show to really be put to better use. Or, y’know, some celebs might skate round in circles a bit. It’ll probably be the circles.

We look forward to that.

Death is a certainty. It’s one of those things that you can’t escape from, like Witch Mountain. Or Monkey Island. Eventually, just like the rhythm, it’s going to get you. Don’t fight the inevitable readers – roll over and take out as many people as you can. It’s what Guy Fawkes would have wanted.

Sometimes death is sad. Remember when Helen Daniels fell asleep and Hannah couldn’t wake her up? Gutting. Or when that one off Cold Feet was hit by the truck while she was talking on her mobile phone. Tearful. But we wouldn’t be antisocial enough to want to see them back. Anne Haddy had her chance and she blew it. Big style.

But sometimes death is good. It allows us to never have to see some things again. One of these things is Tim Lovejoy’s narcissistic misogyny and Louise Redknapp’s amazing ability to successfully imitate wet cardboard. We were all glad when Something For The Weekend was cancelled weren’t we?

It meant that we didn’t have to see Lovejoy patronise and denigrate the poor women who spent time to research and develop ideas for a major BBC show and struggle with a hangover. Or listen to Louise Redknapp agree with almost everything that every guest ever said about anything ever before adding some piece of banal information that no-one will ever care about. Which will only be followed by an awkward silence as Lovejoy’s innate arsewipe tendencies surface again.

Well, some people on Facebook have decided that they would like to see Tim Lovejoy do the best impression of an Awful Person since Jade Goody did that racist thing that time.

21,000 twats in fact.

And it’s even prompted ITV to enquire about retaining the presenting team and repurposing the package for their own nefarious needs. Sounds dreadful doesn’t it? What’s worse than Tim Lovejoy and Louise Redknapp being shit? Tim Lovejoy and Christine Bleakley, that’s what. Blood pressures across the country would rocket. It might even prompt some people to have some sort of coronary episode. Is that what you want? People will die.

Saving Something For The Weekend will result in deaths. We’re telling you now.

Join us at hecklerspray and make sure Tim Lovejoy, a man’s who’s overconfidence is only outmatched by his swollen-headed buffoonering antipathy for all woman.

We heard he thought Emmeline Pankhurst only acted up because she was on her period. Just saying.

Hello soap fans!! Missed us? No, we didn’t give you a second thought either but now that we’ve just about recovered from Pat’s quick, yet annoyingly drawn out death, we’re back to spoil everything for you and tell you what’s going to happen this week. But first here’s a little catch up.

Did we mention that Pat was dead? Well she is. Her last moments were spent in bed with a soaking wet Michael French shouting “MUM!” 2cm from her face, weighed down by monstrous earrings, desperately clinging to a script that would never end while the country secretly wished that David Essex would appear from the wardrobe singing ‘Oh What a Circus.’

Sadly, not even fake son number 2 Nick Berry could be bothered to turn in the Vic and play ‘Every Loser Wins’ on the piano so off she popped and now we all have the funeral to look forward to (40 sodding minutes of funeral time on Friday viewers. You have been warned.)

Up to speed then? Good.

This week on Albert Square, David and Carol decide that they still love each other, much to the dismay of her evil brother Derek who is quite frankly the best villain to grace the Square since that dastardly Wilmot Brown fella in 1872.

He tells David that he’s still going to continue being a rotter regardless and David enlists the help of Michael ‘sometimes my smile is quite alarming’ Moon to get rid of Derek. However after a bungled stitch up, David decides to run away and asks Carol to go with him. But will she go? WE DON’T CARE.

Meanwhile Janine saves the day when she agrees to pay for Pat’s funeral, buy Pat’s house so that the most annoying family on television can rent it from her and even says something heartfelt at Pat’s funeral. We don’t like helpful Janine and we hope she gives birth to a demon who will raise Frank Butcher from the dead and slap some sense into her.

Lucy comes back for Pat’s funeral this week with a completely new face and no-one seems to notice.  She then demands to know who Mandy is, decides she doesn’t like her and plots to get rid of her. We doubt it’ll be a LETS SET FIRE TO EVERYONE! storyline like Yusef had but we hope it involves some sort of murderous rage.

Lauren gets dumped by Tyler as he really loves astoundingly thick Whitney. She get pissed and threatens to jump out of her bedroom window but her fringe blocks her view and her parents realise it’s time to take action but probably won’t as good parenting is forbidden on Eastenders.

When Morgan questions his skin colour and asks who his father is,  Bianca tells him it’s Barack Obama and someone on the script-writing team gets fired.  Whitney then plays detective and tracks down Morgan’s father Ray who doesn’t know he has a son and a new, recurring character klaxon sounds somewhere in the distance.

Elsewhere, Bianca tells Ricky it’s over for the millionth time, Tiffany is terrified that Pat is haunting the Butcher house (we hope this is true) and Pat’s coffin gets dragged outside to the tune of ‘Sweet Caroline’ which is just plain weird.

Oh, and the other soaps just don’t matter. Apart from Brendan Brady in Hollyoaks who is the best thing the world has ever seen.

Tim Minchin has had a pop at ITV after his live performance of satirical Christmas song WoodyAllenJesus was cut from last night’s Jonathan Ross show. For the first time in his life, he can feel like he’s some kind of modern day Bill Hicks.

Bill Hicks got a routine kicked off Letterman. Don’t you pillocks know anything?

Anyway, Minchin claims that the broadcaster’s director of television, Peter Fincham, removed the song “because he’s scared of the ranty, shit-stirring, right-wing press, and of the small minority of Brits who believe they have a right to go through life protected from anything that challenges them in any way“. Fightin’ talk.

The track (watch it below if you can’t stand the thought of reading this article – suffice to say, it’s the usual whimsy you’d expect from a man who uses straighteners) likens Jesus to a whole bunch of stuff like Woody Allen, Derren Brown as well as lizards and zombies.

Minchin wrote on his whiny blog about it:

“It’s not a particularly original idea, I admit, but it’s quite cute. It’s certainly not very contentious, but even so, compliance people and producers and lawyers all checked my lyrics long before the cameras rolled… [Producer] Suzi and her team edited the show and everybody was happy.

“Suzi felt it had a nice balance of big-ticket celeb action, local talent, and a nice bit of that cheeky, iconoclastic spirit for which Jonathan is known and widely loved. And then someone got nervous and sent the tape to ITV’s director of television, Peter Fincham. And Peter Fincham demanded that I be cut from the show.”

Ross later Tweeted:

“Really gutted that the brilliant @timminchin song has been cut from my show. Decision was out of my hands.”

Of course, it isn’t surprising that ITV would act like massive bitches when it comes to anything involving something vaguely contentious, although, they’re pretty happy to film mentally ill celebrities and follow them around on ITV2 in fly-on-the-wall shows… so… who knows?

No-one really expects anything good from ITV, ever, do they?

An ITV spokesperson told comedy site Chortle:

‘It’s not unusual for there to be changes to the show in the edit, as we shoot more than goes out, and we felt the tone wasn’t quite right for the Christmas show. But we do think Tim’s very talented and would love him to work with him on ITV shows again in the future.’”

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.

Who doesn’t love the X-Factor? Oh that’s right, people who listen to supposed “real” music. They’re the types who’ll only listen to music made by those who play their own instruments, write songs without the word “love” being mentioned and only release fifty copies of their album on limited edition cassette tapes.

For everyone else, Saturday nights on ITV are awash with yoghurt adverts, technical glitches and the occasional performance. This year, the judging panel line up has changed dramatically with only Irish demi-arse Louis Walsh remaining to continue to mentor the novelty act category.

The most surprising judge to break the dreams of overweight teenagers this year is Kelly Rowland. Prior to getting work in the UK, she was best-known for being one of Beyonce’s backing dancers in Destiny’s Child. We can’t knock her for hitching a cheap way to the top. With the sole responsibility of mentoring the girls category in X-Factor, you’d think she’d have a clear focus. But no, it seems she’s sex mad.

Frankly, it’s about time that Kelly Rowland developed a bit of personality and became more than just the shouty American woman on X-Factor who seems a bit lost. After all, Gary Barlow is badly filling in as the pantomime villain whilst Simon Cowell wanders off across the pond to exploit an American singer to stardom. Elsewhere, Tulisa is filling in for whatever Cheryl Cole did. So what does Kelly have to say for herself?

“You can’t keep me away from a good sex shop. Those are interesting places. I go with a bunch of people that way no one recognises me.”

Now some people would class an interesting place as somewhere that inspires them; a stunning piece of art in a gallery, carefully constructed architecture or just venturing out of their comfort zone to experience something new. But for Kelly Rowland, the sight of a PVC gimp suit with matching vibrator belt seems to do the trick.

However, Kelly only visits good sex shops, so what makes a bad one? Would it be if any dildos returned to the shop weren’t disposed, but instead repackaged with the pubes removed and put back But if you’re a star like Kelly Rowland, how do you visit filth shops. That’s right, use a disguise and she supposedly did this the other night when Janet was evicted. It was reported she donned:

“An orange turban and huge sunglasses.”

Unless she managed to hide her boobs and female figure, any perverts in the sex shop would pounce on her like zombies and literally maul her to death, kind of like when Mufasa got destroyed by those wildebeest in The Lion King.

The battle of modern Britain’s intellectual heavyweights is underway on Twitter at the moment, as the cast of human zoo The Only Way is Essex are squaring off against QPR captain, and Mario Balotelli impersonator, Joey Barton.

Joey took to Twitter earlier in the week to announce that he’d attended the launch party of the new Call of Duty game, a party that was also attended by the TOWIE cast.

Whilst most people would be content to just stand in a corner, making the most of the free booze, slagging off the permatanned primadonnas amongst the comfortable surroundings of a group of close mates, the controversial footballer decided to take to the net to speak his mind.

Saying that though, we have a sneaking suspicion that Barton uses his Twitter feed as a way of backing up all his thoughts, freeing up the few brain cells he has to focus on other endeavours, like kicking a ball or remembering not to punch people with a lit cigar in his hand.

After a night spent referring to his fellow game launch attendees as “retards,” “lemmings” and, most perplexingly of all, “helmets,” Barton was greeted by a picture of the entire cast of TOWIE holding up their little fingers as well as a sign that read, “JEL JOEY BARTON?”

DO YOU SEE WHAT THEY DID THERE? THEY SAID HE HAD A SMALL PENIS! HAHAHAHA!

The battle of wits has now merely devolved into Barton, Mark Wright and someone inexplicably known as “Arg” sending abusive messages to each other in full keyboard warrior mode, very mature lads, the whole Country’s proud of you.

Perhaps they might try commenting on our website.

We here at hecklerspray are pretty certain nothing will come of this. As mental as Barton is he probably isn’t actually sure where Essex is, meaning there won’t be any Grand Theft Auto style rampages on the streets of Brentwood any time soon… unfortunately.

Also, let’s not forget that Mark is off to Oz for the annual ITV career-wank that is “I’m a Celebrity…” and Arg quite clearly has no idea what a Queens Park Ranger is, let alone where he’d be able to find one of them.

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It’s spoiler time again people, which will either ruin your week and send you into a murderous rage or you’ll thank us very sweetly like the hideous Munchkins that you are. Either is fine with us.

This week, there’s so much going on in Eastenders that we’ve decided to say “BALLS!” to the other soaps and shower you with events from the very real and not at all fictional Albert Square.

And no, you’re not allowed to complain. YOU ARE FORBIDDEN.

It seems like Amira still hasn’t accepted the fact that Syed likes boys. You know, men… the same sex.  Oh for the love of god, HE LIKES COCK AMIRA, get this into your thick head.  She enlists the help of Yusef, who delighted that his rather dull character hasn’t been killed off yet, and who promises to help her win back Syed if she helps him win back Zainab. Give it a rest.

He almost wets his pants with excitement when Ben tells him that Christian touched him ‘inappropriately’ while they watched a DVD together and decides to tell Zainab that Christian has been molesting Ben for weeks behind Syed’s back. Of course this isn’t remotely true, except for the part where Ben and Christian did watch a DVD together and Ben decided that kissing Christian would be the best idea that anyone has ever had. EVER.

It wasn’t.

We’re also slightly confused as to why Yusef’s idea of wooing Zainab is to tell her tales of molested teenagers in order to win her trust but quite frankly, we don’t care that much either.

Phil finds out about the dreadful rumour and decides to batter Christian with a baseball bat and only then does Ben decided to admit he’s a lying toad but it’s too late; Christian packs his bags, Yusef violently pushes Zainab up against a mirror and there’s even a deceased turkey with a bullet in it which breaks Janine’s tooth. LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE BEN, YOU LITTLE SHIT!

Elsewhere, Ian and Mandy are still trying to convince everyone that the quickest and most unbelievable engagement in the history of Eastenders, is something other than tedious. Mandy is furious when she finds out the real cost of her engagement ring and is so upset by this fact and that she let Ian Beale put his thing near her, she sends Bobby into the street to play and he vanishes. Don’t fret though, he does return, accompanied by the brilliant Jane! Remember Jane? The one who left after she had that non sexual fling with Masood behind Ian’s back and wanted to bring up Lucy’s child and oh, it doesn’t really matter does it?

Masood is happy to see her, but then he isn’t. BUT THEN HE IS and it goes on like this for a while until Jane decides she’ll hang around for a while and laugh at Ian’s mid life crisis and pretend to be from That London.

Finally, everyone is now aware that Pat Butcher is finally hanging up her earrings and leaving Eastenders for good. Those of you who didn’t know are no doubt cheering loudly. It’s fine. We’ll wait.

What you didn’t know is that she doesn’t burn to death in some totally expected house fire, oh no, she gets an even better exit, by upstaging Tanya and finding out she’s also got cancer which will kill her immediately. Well after she’s dragged it out a bit and given everyone some nonsense words of wisdom and  licked that poster of Frank one last time. Then she’s definitely dying and never ever coming back ever again.

So it’s not all bad news then.

Until next week …

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It’s time to visit Soapland again as we know this is the only thing that makes your miserable existence bearable. We even caught Matthew Laidlow trying to bribe fellow writer Joanna Bolouri with cake and even violence in the hope she’d reveal the whereabouts of David Essex since his departure.

He’s still recovering in hospital as she takes Soaps even more seriously that you losers do.

First up it’s Eastenders where it’s Yasmin’s first birthday party and as Christian has never missed a party in his life, he buys her a card and teddy, hoping to get an invite. Realising that Christian is only using her daughter’s party as an excuse to get on the good foot, Amira tells Syed he’s not welcome and Syed secretly puts his plans to backflip naked onto Christian on hold.

Amira’s father Qadim arrives at the party, demanding she leave this soap immediately but as Amira still has weeks left to bore everyone with her baby, she refuses.

Emotionless Yusef  gets the fake DNA test results back and hands them over to Christian who then confronts Amira with the news that Syed isn’t Yasmin’s father. No-one bothers to notice that the DNA came from a Chinese woman Yusef once treated in his surgery for heartburn.

When Masood pops his head round the door and tells everyone that Yusef probably falsified the tests, Yusef stares blankly and tells Zainab that the NHS provided the results and therefore he is really a nice man who’s only marginally interested in destroying everyone who’s ever been born.  Zainab believes him until drag queen granny Rose tells her that the NHS don’t provide DNA tests and Yusef is forced to admit that  he’s a ball bag.

Elsewhere on the Square, Poppy and Jodie have moved in with those Moon brothers and everyone immediately shouts ‘SHAG FEST!!!” Tyler also gets this idea into his head and convinces Anthony that the girls want to have a threesome, despite the fact even Wham loving Heather would be dirtier in the sack than those two combined. Finished picturing that? You’re welcome.

Needless to say he soon finds out that they are less than impressed by the suggestion so they all laugh it off and then the girls decide they both quite fancy Anthony so, IT COULD STILL HAPPEN IF ENOUGH BOOZE IS INVOLVED.  We hope the Eastenders writers are as sexually repressed as we are.

‘Fiwl’ Mitchell returns with amnesia and suggests that Ben dates Lola and Ben stops imagining Christian’s undercarriage for a second and moans that his Dad doesn’t  love him.  He then agrees to babysit Amy while Roxy goes out and gets hammered, before deciding it would be more fun to leave toddler Amy alone in the house while he pretends to be straight with Jay.

Amy’s decision to lie face down in some bath water causes everyone to panic and take her to hospital where Jack finds out that Amy has an unexplained fracture. A  perpetually hungover Roxy arrives at the hospital to be told that either Jack gets custody of Amy or Amy goes into care and Roxy will be taken to court. Oh look. Another storyline about parental struggle with an inevitable custody battle. Great.  Where the hell is that threesome?

Finally, Tanya’s text buddy Siobhan dies and Tanya has a panic attack.

Grim.

Next we  arrive in Coronation Street where Fiz hopes that John’s confession will stop her going back to prison but will it? We don’t know and we couldn’t find anyone else who’s be bothered to find out either.

Carla is still a wreck and after telling the factory girls that they’ll get paid after they finish sewing some knickers, she just snaps and fires them. Then Frank decides to offer them all jobs and an unhinged Carla calls him a rapist and tells the women they can have their jobs back. We’re as confused as they are.

It’s Sophie’s birthday this week but as usual all the attention is focused on Rosie when the Gazette article is published and contains gossip about the family along with some tasteless photos. This makes us happy.

Elsewhere, Michelle’s parents take the news that she’s getting married on the beach badly as no-one wants to fall over and get  sand up their bumhole after 17 Mojitos.

Until next week…

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