Pot Noodle headed Taylor Swift and tree-faced Jake Gyllenhaal have, apparently, broken up. That didn’t last long did it? Clearly, this is a cheap ploy on behalf of Gyllenhaal to get free promotion from Swift as she writes all about it on her next insipidly twee album of soul-searching garbage.

Taylor Swift is clearly an unbearable human. Even Kanye West hates her and he’s one of the most preposterous dipsticks in human history.

Jake Hisnameistoolonganddifficulttospellwithoutcheckingtentimes is the latest on the list of men who seemingly can’t stand to be in the company of Taylor Swift.

In the past, Joe Jonas (one of the Jonas Clones) and Twilight brooder Taylor Lautner are other suffering men who probably once thought “She seems kinda nice” before, we can only assume, they either discovered some sick-making revelation about the country-pop singer or, y’know, realised that spending a lot of time with her would actually mean that they would have to listen to her music once in a while.

Jake GelatinousHall was first seen stepping out with Swift backstage at Saturday Night Live in October and went as far as spending a Thanksgiving weekend with her. However, it seems that they cheered in the New Year separately.

A source told People.com:

“They’re over – it ended last month.”

Their respective spokesidiots are currently not offering any sort of comment, which of course, gives everyone else the opportunity to make up stories about the whole thing and pass themselves off as ‘a friend’ or ‘a source’. That’s how we make our money.

Next week, every single writer for hecklerspray intends to get Taylor on the rebound so she can write a concept album about a snarky gossip blog which everyone hates.

Perez Hilton will be so insanely jealous that he might walk into a Black Eyed Pea fist all over again.

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Most people, when they turn 30, have a party or go to the pub. They might even go for a meal if they can bear the horrendous formalities of eating food in a restaurant. Not Jake Gyllenhaal. For his birthday, he’s going to swim with walruses.

You heard.

He’s going to do this seemingly pointless task in the Arctic Circle too. No, seriously. Goo goo g’joob.

The Donnie Darko actor (he’s been in other stuff, but no-one really cares do they?) will turn 30 years old on December 19th and will be joined by his family (who presumably hoped for a night down the pub/a party) for the sub-zero frolics in the in the Arctic Circle.

Jake said:

“The only reason I’m doing it is I wanted to do something that absolutely terrified me – killer whales and walruses and freezing cold water? That seems absolutely terrifying.”

Is it as terrifying as potentially being the muse for Taylor Swift’s next album? He’s rumoured to be dating her in case you missed that thrilling piece of news.

And poor ol’ Jakey was worried about leaving his 20s. Why? Christ knows. It’s only an age isn’t it? You don’t turn 30 and suddenly demand Horlicks over nights out. It seems that it was his sister, Maggie Gyllenhaal (who is 32) who told him to stop being so bloody stupid.

He added:

“I was talking to my sister the other day about being 30 and celebrating the life you’ve had up to this point. I feel there’s a massive sort of sea change coming in myself and I’m psyched.”

Sea change? A changing sea filled with walruses?

He added:

“I’m not 30 yet, but I definitely feel more like myself. I feel like now, it’s just the beginning. I guess you get to a point at 30 or somewhere and you say, ‘What I am, is what I am and that’s what I’m going to be and that’s all good.

“I don’t need to be anything else.’ And that’s kind of how I feel.”

Christ on a bike. Brace yourself for more horrible soul searching in public. He’ll be wanting stupid children next, carrying them around in one of those stupid papoose things.

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If rumours are to be believed, then Taylor Swift’s next album is going to be about Jake Gyllenhaal. That means, of course, her next album is going to be filled with boring love songs or boring break-up songs. The only thing that’s certain is that it will be more tedious than eating Rich Tea biscuits covered in cat litter.

Why doesn’t Taylor fall on the sword for her ‘art’ and go out with someone massively inappropriate like Randy Quaid or Dog The Bounty Hunter? That would ensure that her next album was a total hoot to listen to!

However, Taylor is insistent on dating people as dull as she is and apparently, she spend the weekend with Jake Gyllencan’tbebothertypinghisnameoutconstantly in New York city. They probably drank some coffee and sat silently in a park looking at ducks.

That’s not true actually. The date went like this.

She took him to a taping of Saturday Night Live (and by ‘taping’, you can assume that this meant going to see it being filmed, rather than the pair switched the TV but watched the digital numbers go ’round on her VHS recorder as it taped the show from the television – although that seems plausible) and when the lights dimmed, she told her bodyguard to sling his hook so that Gyllenhaal could sit next to her and nearly hold her hand.

A witness:

“They chatted a lot, but no kissing or hand holding or anything affectionate.”

If she’d dated Dog the Bounty Hunter, he would have sneakily got to second base and then leapt through the air to catch some criminal while shouting “Brah” at the end of every sentence.

Then, the coma-inducing duo spent the next day having brunch (the most boring of all meals) before taking a stroll in Brooklyn’s Park Slope neighborhood.

That’s where they probably silently stared at ducks.

And of course, Him From Donnie Darko will end up in a boring ditty:

Taylor says:

“Every person I’ve fallen for, they’ve all been a song. That kind of justifies [the exes] being in my life.”

God knows she didn’t pick up tips on how to give blow-jobs or anything vaguely interesting or salacious as that. If you date a Jonas brother, all you’re going to learn is how to constantly talk like you’re in a job interview.

Here’s hoping that Taylor Swift gets addicted to mind-bending drugs over the course of the next 12 months. Or a plane engine lands on her house. That’d be fun.

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Derren Brown, the British mind magician and all around annoying show off, has wowed the slackjawed public with his latest special, Hero at 30,000 feet, in which he takes a bad actor an average guy and turns him into a hero… at 30,000 feet (this is achieved with a plane in case you haven’t yet realised it).

Now, I’m not one to nit-pick (not true, I really am), but I had a bone to pick with this show. Most people will tell you that it was all staged and that it was done with split screen technology or something equally annoying, but that wasn’t the problem.

The problem was… Derren Brown appears to have just made a mockumentary version of Donnie Darko.

Let’s examine the evidence. Donnie Matt is an average guy who isn’t fulfilling his potential and is yearning to be special. One night he sleepwalks after being woken up by a mysterious voice that tells him he has about a month until a life changing event will occur. By this point all that’s missing is an 80s soundtrack and some rabbit ears on Brown. I half expected Matt to reveal he was just Jake Gyllenhaal wearing a, “stupid man suit.”

Derren, who is now quite obviously channelling Frank the Rabbit, then wakes up Matt again, to bring him into the middle of a field to explain how his life is unfulfilled. We are then introduced to an animal that Matt is told represents power, a crocodile, in the film this part was played by the statue of the school’s mascot. As much as I wanted to see Matt put an axe through its skull it, unfortunately, never happened.

Matt then goes through a series of events that includes theft, breaking into the house of a respected member of society (the police commissioner, who isn’t a paedophile in this show, or so we’re lead to believe) and a feat of super human strength when he breaks out of the strait jacket on the train tracks.

At one point, Brown even says Matt is going through a, “transformation from ordinary to extraordinary,” you know, like that high school kid who could time travel and had superpowers. What was his name again? Oh yeah, Donnie Darko.

But most of all, at the end of the show, a plane carrying some of his loved ones is supposed to be falling out of the sky and only he can save them!

Also the whole thing made about as much sense as Donnie Darko, but at least Drew Barrymore wasn’t in it.

Tobey Maguire and Jake Gyllenhaal look pretty similar, don’t they? That doe-eyed bulging apathy that seeps from their indistinct puff-gobs make them near gloomy twins.

Gylenhaal even nearly replaced Maguire as Spiderman when producers thought that Peter Parker needed to mope around a bit more in the sequel. It’s little surprise that someone eventually paired the two together as siblings.

Brothers has Maguire as the straight-up soldier serving duty in Afghanistan while his drunk brother falls over a lot and takes fancy to Maguire’s misses. Hilarity doesn’t quite insure, so much as gets tied to a breezeblock and tossed in a river.

Director Jim Sheridan decides to take a break from making films about 50 Cent being an awful turd and focuses on harrowing Danish drama remakes. The type that’ll put thought in your head and regret in your heart for watching it with you girlfriend in the vein attempt to get lucky.

It’s also pretty pedestrian stuff: after Sam (Maguire) goes missing in Afghanistan, his wife, Grace (Natalie Portman), has to deal with the aftermath and put her life back together. In walks rugged Tommy (Gyleenhaal), a rough-neck recently incarcerated loser, who decides to change both their lives for the better. Sparks fly, people cry, competent drama is on the menu. Things take a turn for the worst when Sam turns up again, only to find that his wife and brother are a bit too cosy.

If all of this sounds familiar, then you have probably seen Pearl Harbour. Or at least the second act of Pearl Harbour, after all that needless exposition and before all the carelessly exploitative action. You know, that horrible love triangle that sank the film into the bottom of the ocean of Hollywood?

Then again, when you replace Ben Affleck and Josh Hartnett – a joint charisma level of a tin of sardines – with the pedigree of the bloke who rode Seabiscuit and that guy from the film that made no sense, it becomes an affecting drama.

Maguire particularly stands out. His turmoil in Afghanistan, while grimly predictable, punctuates a desperate situation with subtlety. His return to his family gradually shows a man beginning to uncoil, at any moment about to snap.

Portman doesn’t quite convince as much – especially being a young mother of two with zero waistline. She doesn’t have as much to do, though. Most of the time competing with Gylenhaal in a contest of ‘Who Can Make The Most Vacant Expression’.

It’s Maguire’s show and when it comes down to the climatic confrontation he delivers a riveting destructive outburst that suitably shocks and surprises. It’s a shame, then, that the film is destined to be overlooked much like every other outstanding Maguire movie that isn’t Spiderman; Pleasentville, The Ice Storm, Cats & Dogs. God dammit we love Cats & Dogs. Oh look, a sequel is out soon – yay!

‘Spray Rating: 3/5

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It’s hard to care about Jake Gyllenhaal and Reese Witherspoon, isn’t it? There’s just nothing to them.

Plus they met on the set of Rendition. And anyone able to fall in love on a film that unwatchably dreary deserves to be chemically castrated. And Jake Gyllenhaal and Reese Witherspoon don’t even have a cute Brangelina-style name. That’s possibly because it’d have to be Jeese or Rake or Withensphaan or Gyllerhoon or something crap like that, but it’s more likely to be because nobody cares.

Anyway, some people say that Jake Gyllenhaal and Reese Witherspoon have split up. Other people say that they haven’t. Please adjust the tragectory of your lives accordingly.

On the surface, Jake Gyllenhall and Reese Witherspoon have a lot in common. They’re both conventionally attractive movie stars. Their surnames would both get you an abnormally high Scrabble score. They’re both critically adored. Their surnames could both feasibly be the name of a Star Trek-style alien race. They were both in Rendition. Their surnames both sound the like dying gasps of a drowning alcoholic. See? They’re made for each other.

OR ARE THEY? Well, probably. Over the last few days, cracks have been reported in whatever impossibly bland landscape it is that passes for paradise in the Gyllenhaal/Witherspoon household. This weekend it claimed that Reese and Jake had split up, either because they both have profoundly deep secrets that they want to cover up, or because there are only so many conversations that two people can have about hair. But that was all turned on its head on Sunday, when Jake Gyllenhaal and Reese Witherspoon came forward to deny the news. So everything’s OK.

OR IS IT? Because according to new reports, Jake Gyllenhaal has been clearing his stuff out of Reese Witherspoon’s house. MSNBC reports:

Paparazzi allegedly spotted Gyllenhaal’s assistant enter Witherspoon’s residence Sunday evening and exit just 15 minutes later carrying luggage. The assistant was then seen delivering the luggage to Gyllenhaal’s home. “(Gyllenhaal’s assistant) looked like she had a job to do,” one lensman said. “She was in and out very quickly, and she had two bags with her in the car when she left.”

This news is driving us mad! Have Jake Gyllenhaal and Reese Witherspoon split up, or haven’t they? We need to know, because we need to determine the appropriate response. For instance, if they’re still together then we should probably do a fairly nonchalant shrug. But if they’ve split up they deserve nothing less than a fairly nonchalant shrug coupled with an insincere sad face. We need to know one way or the other, damn it.

OR DO WE?

No. No, actually we couldn’t care less. Sorry.

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There are strange decisions, there are odd choices and there are some things that just make you go ‘whubluh?!’ before falling on the floor and vomiting through sheer insanity.

Then there are things that initially confuse, but soon reveal themselves to be not that stupid an idea after all – like making a TV show (and latterly a movie) about shallow, image-obsessed bints with too much money and free time on their hands. Some things in the world are just meant to be.

So why not combine the homoeroticism of a popular movie with the gay-friendly world of theatre? Or to put it another way: why not remake Brokeback Mountain as an opera? Genius. This thing writes itself, seriously. Having said that, there is still going to be a writer involved in the shape of 70-year-old Charles Wuorinen. The aged scribe said:

“Ever since encountering Annie Proulx’s extraordinary story I have wanted to make an opera on it, and it gives me great joy that Gerard Mortier and New York City Opera have given me the opportunity to do so.”

See – it all falls into place now, doesn’t it? By 2013 we can be sat at New York City Opera enjoying the wonder of two men discovering what love truly is, retreating to their mountainous hideaway to explore their new-found take on humanity, all while they bellow incomprehensible garbage at us with all the subtlety of a large, clumsy warthog wearing heavy boots. Walking on eggshells. In a library. We can safely say the operatic production of this is going to be ‘interesting’.

The original movie of Brokeback Mountain was released in 2005 to much critical acclaim and starred Jake “then secretly gay, now just a prettyboy actor” Gylglylglllenhall and Heath “then secretly gay, now dead” Ledger. It got some awards, did some things, made some people think a bit, made some people forgive Ang Lee for his version of The Incredible Hulk and… look: they’re making an operatic version of the film. This strikes hecklerspray as pretty bloody weird.

What are the sex scenes going to be like? We’ll go with intense, for one. Maybe this version will prove more popular in prison though.