For some reason, we’ve credited you slobs with some intelligence. Christ knows why. We’ve read the comments you leave. Either way, some of you ain’t so bad. Some of you have probably only seen Jersey Shore out of morbid curiosity.

If you watched it, you probably thought ‘By Jove! This is faker than Kim Kardashian’s wedding!‘

If you’ve been watching the antics of Snooki & Co, thinking that it’s BLATES REAL (or whatever you wobbling colostomy bags say these days), then we’ve got news for you. And someone with more spare time has made a video which proves it. OKAY?

The scene in question concerns Snooki and Deena having a fight in a bar.

Remember that?

No, not THIS fight involving Snooki…

It’s a different one. That said, the above video looks grimly real. No, this one involved a hissy fit in a bar and it looked for all the world that a bartender lobbed ice at Snooki and Deena which saw them trashing the place.

Have a look.

It’s clearly all bollocks.

Legally, we should say that MTV’s response was “It’s all real, and we couldn’t make this all up.”

You don’t care do you?

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You know Jersey Shore? That’s right – the thing you can blame dreck like Geordie Shore and The Only Way Is Essex on. Well, one of the stars of the show – The Situation – is a monumental penis who has somehow weaselled his way into the VIP section.

So all is well? Not quite.

See, while he’s the star of a hit MTV show, some people aren’t so taken with him. Despite the free advertising that comes with appearing on a widely watched show, Abercrombie & Fitch have posted a statement on their website asking Mike “The Situation” Sorrentino to stop wearing their clothes. That’s how much they hate him.

A&F say:

“We are deeply concerned that Mr. Sorrentino’s association with our brand could cause significant damage to our image”

Okay.

“We understand that the show is for entertainment purposes, but believe this association is contrary to the aspirational nature of our brand, and may be distressing to many of our fans.”

Distressing? Really? What kind of simpering, spineless wimp wears Abercrombie & Fitch clothes then? The kind that feel distress when someone they don’t like buys the same clothes as them? Jesus Christ on a bike.

“We have therefore offered a substantial payment to Michael ‘The Situation’ Sorrentino and the producers of MTV’s The Jersey Shore to have the character wear an alternate brand. We have also extended this offer to other members of the cast, and are urgently waiting a response.”

Wait. So A&F are offering money to people to NOT wear their clothes? Can we, the team of ‘spray degenerates, also have money? We’ll accept money to never buy your clothes, even in the past.

Seems like we’ve got an Abercrombie & Fitchuation on our hands.

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THE BIG DOG IS IN THE HOUSE! 6 words that, when you hear them on the radio, let you know that it’s time to change the station, because the whitest man in history, Tim Westwood, is about to start broadcasting.

It’s fairly safe to say we all hate Westwood, after all what is there to love about a man who looks like a geography teacher painfully trying to hard to appear ‘street’ to keep his pupils interested?

But none of us seem to hate Westwood quite as much as Mark Bulcock.

Mr. Bulcock is currently in court for sending a series of threatening texts to the 53 year old DJ. A man Bulcock claims he, “admires.”

We can’t really blame Bulcock for sending abusive texts to Westwood, if any of us were forced to listen to a man over half a century old telling us how ‘fly’ that latest ‘snoop joint’ was then we’d probably just start sending torrents of abuse to him too.

However, this isn’t exactly the worst thing Westwood has had to put up with in his life. There was the time he got shot and the time he had to host Pimp My Ride UK, both of which were equally painful. Admittedly though, the latter was only painful to everyone else besides Westwood.

Whilst the Big Dog continues to occupy the house it doesn’t appear as if he’ll be dominating the court (the actual court, not the basketball court) with his mad lyrical skillz anytime soon. However, Bulcock will be back in the courthouse next month to be sentenced.

With Bulcock safely under lock and key we can all rest assured that Tim Westwood will live to offend our ears another day.

It’d be nice if, just once, the big dog would actually just stay in the house.

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Snooki – a cross between a shaved Har Mar Superstar and a tin of off-creosote – is, once again, being filmed for some vapid, gaspingly bad television programme for MTV, the music channel that doesn’t show any music videos.

And while shooting (with cameras, not guns sadly) the fourth season of Jersey Shore this weekend, good ol’ Snooki managed to crash into a police car that was accompanying them, injuring two officers.

The astonishing thing there is, of course, that Snooki has enough faculties to actually have a legal driving license. Beggars belief.

Everyone was in Florence, Italy for the new series, for reasons which are unclear and presumably, of little importance to anyone, including those appearing in the show.

Whatever the reason, Snooki has ended up ramming two cops and now they’re in hospital with minor injuries. Once they heard Snooki talking, they allegedly asked a doctor if they could be given some ‘major injuries’ as life didn’t seem to be worth living anymore, in a world where three-inch tall morons are paraded like stars.

Snooki, not one for being the centre of attention, tried to cover her face as she was questioned about the crash. A crash that, obviously, will feature in the final cut of an episode of Jersey Shore.

And to think that the traffic police vehicle which was hit by Snooki was only travelling with them in order to give the cast and crew the chance to be able to travel around more easily.

Jesus fucking Christ.

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We feel sorry for Dannii Minogue: she’s never really had it as good as her older sibling. Kylie has been given all of the bigger, better and catchier pop hits, she looks better and oddly, Kylie has been given her own range of car adverts which don’t make any sense. Perhaps Simon Cowell gave Dannii the X-Factor job out of pity. Or he lost a bet.

Even though the actual show hasn’t started, X-Factor has bored us rigid already. Cowell has buggered off to launch it in America while Cheryl Cole finally was announced as judge after the American authorities turned a blind eye to her conviction of assault. Arguably, the shows two biggest judges have gone Stateside, leaving Kylie Minogue’s sister and Louise Walsh to crush the dreams of thousands.

Only problem is that says before filming starts, Kylie Minogue’s sister has left the show. Surely this couldn’t be a PR stunt?

In theory, this leaves Louise Walsh left to judge solo, therefore guaranteeing that nearly all the Irish acts will get through. History will surely repeat itself this year as he gives us yet another rubbish act from his homeland. Just look at Jedward and the woman who worked in Tesco. Saying that though, we might have to stop being rude to Jedward seeing they finished higher than the UK in Saturdays Eurovision song contest. Though, it was only Blue they had to battle. Nobody decent.

So why has Kylie Minogue’s sister decided to quit the UK version of the X Factor? Is it down to visa issues? If that had been true, she could have hilariously been shipped off on a prison ship back to her native Australia, but sadly it couldn’t be more from the truth. She said:

“During discussions for me to return it became clear that, unfortunately, the audition dates in the UK clash with my live shows of Australia’s Got Talent during June and July.”

Yup. We’re thinking what you are. Somehow, Kylie Minogue’s sister has got herself work though we’re not entirely sure what talent our Australian buddies have to offer. Can someone play the didgeridoo whilst on a BMX made out of lager? How about fitting in a kangaroos pouch while singing Especially For You? Or will someone recreate Michael Hutchence last moments on Earth with a sad clown face painted on their genitals?

Honest, we just don’t know. Though they’ll probably be someone there proudly displaying his or her collection of knives like Crocodile Dundee.

Damn work commitments, what a pain in the arse, it means that we can’t see a second rate pop star tell slightly worse singers than her that they’ll never make the pub circuit. So who’s lined-up to replace her? Is it someone well known and loved across the world like erm…Britney Spears? Imagine the fun we’d have of potential mental breakdowns every week. Whilst we’d all love to see that, we never will. Instead, we’re going to get Tulisa Contostavlos from N-Dubz.

Tulisa is from ghetto street band N-Dubz who sing gangster raps about stealing sweets from the corner shop and penning moody R&B ballads about dirtying their box-fresh trainers. Even though she has been confirmed a judge by various papers, no comment has been released yet. Perhaps she is trying to write down a sentence in her best handwriting.

People might argue that Tulisa won’t connect with the X-Factor audience, but if the X-Factor production team want someone who’ll come across as a moron like half the people who audition, they’ve struck gold!

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New Jersey is having something of a state crisis. There’s a $112.3 billion funding gap for next year according to the Center on Budget and Policy Priorities. Worse than that is House Republicans are planning on pushing through a plan to cut off further funding which will take away a further $32 billion.

Granted, that’s not your typical opener for a hecklerspray article, but digest those shoddily researched figures for a moment before considering this:

A New Jersey state university called Rutgers paid $32,000 of tax-payers money Snooki to give a speech about partying. Brilliant.

Yep. You read that right. The tottering orange ballsack from MTV show Jersey Shore was paid a big wodge of cold, hard cash to speak at 2,000 students who either loved the whole thing in a hootingly ironic way or sat there, wishing someone would lop the top of their heads off and feast on their weary brains.

The Q&A session covered some important topics of course.

The advice given to these poor shites included “when you’re tan, you feel better about yourself” as well as “study hard, but party harder.”

At the time of press, we can’t confirm if Snooki covered the whole ‘take your trousers off before defecating’ thing.

The best bit of this news is that Snooki received a whole $2,000 more than Nobel-Prize winner Tonie Morrison will get when they appear for this year’s commencement address.

Tax payers of New Jersey are, quite understandably, thrilled and not prowling the streets looking for someone to beat senseless with lumps of wood… or, alternatively, they could put their trust in this crying resident of New Jersey who wants to raise property taxes.

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The organisers of Hard Rock Calling, that sort of festival like thing that happens in Hyde Park every summer that isn’t the O2 Wireless festival, have decided that former Fall Out Boy bassist and pioneer of the musical equivalent of object dá, Pete Wentz, is a suitable choice for a battle of the bands judge.

Right? RIGHT?

If you’re lucky enough to have forgotten the mid noughties, here’s a crash course in all things Pete Wentz:

• He was in an emo band called Fall Out Boy who got big on the back of the success of auditory assassins My Chemical Romance.
• He had/has a stupid fringe and a fondness for guyliner.
• He was once caught doing an Ashley Cole after a fan posted a picture of his tattooed tallywhacker on the internet and…
• He’s married to Ashlee Simpson, a woman so pathetic she continues to live in the shadow of America’s answer to Kerry Katona, her older sister Jessica Simpson.

That’s right, at one point in time, Pete Wentz was related by marriage to Nick Lachey.

ROCKNFUGGINROLL!

The heats Wentz will be judging are taking place in Hard Rock Cafes all over the world, because being alternative and sticking it to the man is like totally all about being a shameless corporate whore nowadays, duh!

The budding bands that Wentz will cast his three eyes over are battling it out to see who gets to take to the stage in Hyde Park, in front of literally some people, and belt out their best Aerosmith covers as bottles of piss whip past their heads and rain pours down on them from the cold, grey London skies.

We here at hecklerspray aren’t really ones for nurturing talent, we prefer to call people names and giggle amongst ourselves, but even so we can’t honestly see what would make anyone desperate enough to have Pete Wentz, a man so incredibly annoying and pointless that even Bono thinks it’s a bit much, judge their musical ability. Unless they’re still about 12 years old and think that Wentz is OMG LIKE SO TOTALLY BUFF YEH!

Anyway, congratulations Hard Rock Calling, whatever credibility you had left after changing your name to that of an overpriced theme restaurant has just evaporated.

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Hybrid of Har Mar Superstar and the thing that comes out of the screen in the Ring film, Nicole Polizzi of Jersey Shore, has reached the point of being utterly sick and tired of… well… herself. Now, this isn’t going to end up in some kind of suicide bid, where she finds herself on a rooftop threatening to chuck herself off and into the blades of a passing combine harvester.

Rather, she’s pretty bored of her own nickname. Her nickname is Snooki if you were wondering and, no, it isn’t a reference to how good she is at clocking 147 breaks on the baize.

The Thing That Occupies Valuable Fame Space says that, while the name undoubtedly helped her to be kinda famous, she’s thinks that it is all a bit old and now, she misses being called by her name… which of course means that people will now shout “Oi! Nicole Polizzi! I’ve seen you on TV! You dick!”

She said she misses people calling her by her real name… she misses being called Nicole:

“I miss my real name. I miss people calling me Nicole”

See? So why then, would you put ‘Snooki’ on the front of your new book (‘A Shore Thing’, available in the 9p bargain bin at all good bookshops) then? You’d only do that if you were toweringly thick, right?

Either way, if you’re excited at the prospect of a Snooki Booki, then the story revolves around a young lady called Gia and her cousin Isabella who go to the shore with the hopes of having, like, totally the best summer, like, ever!

If you can’t even begin to imagine that you’d be arsed reading a book written by someone called Snooki, then rest assured, you could watch some of the awful Jersey Shore and look at the ‘bond’ between Snooki and co-star Jenni Farley aka J Woww.

Apparently, the book is based on their friendship but sadly, not their preposterous nicknames.

We’re off to get punched in the face by one of the ‘stars’ of the show and, hopefully, we’ll get a book deal where we chronicle the days of bitter, jaundiced bloggers who find fulfilment while shitting into a football sock.

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America has produced some of the greatest writers the world has ever known. Twain, Capote, Jack Kerouac and now the biggest and best of them all – Snooki. Yep, Simon & Schuster have announced that they will publish a novel by Nicole Polizzi, aka Snooki, of the reality TV show Jersey Shore.

Now, you’re probably sniffily dismissing this as some throwaway memoir filled with indulgent fluff about nothing.

Well you’re wrong. This is going to be a novel. A proper novel with words, a cover and everything! Sadly, it isn’t going to be called The Booki of Snooki. It is going to be a different pun – ‘A Shore Thing’. How boring is that?

Of course, Snooki has had a turbulent time of late, getting smacked in the mouth by a prick and getting arrested over the summer for being completely arsehole-drunk on a beach.

An announcement about the novel says:

“will revolve around a girl looking for love on the boardwalk (one full of big hair, dark tans and fights galore).”

Hang on! This is not a memoir?

Gallery editor in chief Jennifer Bergstrom asks the question:

“Who better than Snooki to write a fun, sexy novel about a single girl looking for love on the Jersey Shore?”

This is definitely not a memoir? Right?

It isn’t?

Really?

Of course, dick head critics (like us) will pounce all over this book, desperate to show how bloody clever we are by pointing out the things that are wrong with it (while wilfully ignoring our own mistakes, of course).

Perhaps we’re being a little hasty. Her tweets display that she could become something of an American literary giant.

Recently, she tweeted:

I feel like a guy tryna “whew” a girl lol what has gotten into me? I’m on @JENNIWOWW‘s cloud9 now. Fml thanks bitch

…as well as the thoughtful, wistful:

Get offaaaa me and keep sippin on that haterade.

…and…

“Tryna take care of some bissnass”

People praised A Clockwork Orange for inventing a new language, so maybe Snooki could be America’s answer to Anthony Burgess, right?

Right?

Look at the way she nails this simile:

“I try and turn my head and I can’t. I look like a raptor.”

You mark our words. Snooki is going to be the next great American writer. You’ll all soon forget about Hunter S. Thompson’s journeys into the dark belly of America because, by the time Snooki is done, you’ll have to re-evaluate every book ever written.

EVER.

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Nicole Polizzi, better known as That Idiot Snooki From Jersey Shore has been on the face of a personal critique from a judge who should clearly jack-in his well-paid job at the bar and start writing for Hecklerspray.

This judge hasn’t topped The Best Review Ever, which happens to be from the British judge who called The Jeremy Kyle Show “human bear baiting”, but he did have the audacity to offer up a can of bitchslap to the reality TV twerp.

If you didn’t know, Snooki was arrested for being a hideous, drunken, shouting mess and our judge chum didn’t send her to prison, but did find time to chastise her for supremely childish behavior, even comparing her to Lindsay Lohan.

What didn’t help Snooki’s case (sorry, typing Snooki in reference to a human will never, ever feel right) is that she turned up at the New Jersey courtroom more than an hour late, to face charges of public intoxication, disorderly conduct and creating a public nuisance.

Snooki Loopy initially pleaded “not guilty,” but then, her attorney who realised that the judge had probably seen just how big a tit his client was on the broadcasts of Jersey Shore, decided that it might be better for her to confess up.

Snooki was let off with a $500 fine and community service… but not without an ear-bashing.

Judge Damian Murray spat that Snooki was…

“acting like a Lindsay Lohan wannabe”

…and pondered aloud about whether her actions were scripted by Jersey Shore producers and accused her of…

“trading her dignity for a paycheck.”

*BLAM!*

Then came the advice:

“Going through life rude, profane, obnoxious and self-indulgent is not the way you want to go through life.”

Of course, the worry for the stupidly named Snooki is that, the minute she stops being a hideous moron who is rude and crass and gaspingly self-indulgent, she’d soon be a nobody again. Reality TV would ditch her in a hedgerow and find someone else equally horrible and weird to look at.

Oh, and then watch this video and shriek “OH MY GOD! THAT’S HORRIBLE!”

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As Kid Rock probably wrapped his mullet around an enemy’s neck for the purpose of strangulation that night in a Waffle House, well that must have felt pretty good.

This is all theoretical, of course, but we think the temporary surge of power must have been so invigorating he just wanted more. He wanted his strength tested. In his mind’s eye he probably saw himself physically beating up all kinds of things that would be awesome to beat up, like King Kong and a string of zombie popes.

And the US military. But a judge just ended that last dream forever.

When Kid Rock (Robert Ritchie) beat up every single living thing inside a Georgia Waffle House for either several days in a row or just a few minutes, he got arrested and taken to jail. Once there he used his awesome beady eye/moustache combo to seduce the guards and escape to freedom. When the guards snapped out of their trance they realised two things – they were covered in mullet-shaped hickeys and the prisoner hadn’t so much escaped as he’d been sentenced to something or other.

That something or other, incidentally, was community service. When his first idea for specifically what to do got shot down, he wasn’t all that surprised. After all, as we’ve heard it that idea was to invite children to his house so he could teach them how to look at pictures of naked tractors. No judge would allow that. But then when his second suggestion got shot down too, well, Kid Rock thought it was just ridiculous.

He wanted to fill all his hours of forced labour with singing songs at the Army, but the powers that be simply wouldn’t allow it. In his own words:

“Apparently [the judge] thinks it’s more important that I do something else rather than sing, shake hands, take pictures and spend time with the men and women who put themselves in harm’s way to protect the very freedom he and all of us live by…I really take it as a slap in the face, and really have trouble thinking of a better way to ‘serve the community.’”

We imagine the initial judge/Ritchie conversation went something like this:

Kid Rock: Judge, for my community service I’d like to play for the troops.

Judge: Now, I think those guys have been through enough.

If Kid Rock wants some community service ideas, all he has to do is read some hecklerspray back-stories. He could mop things like Naomi Campbell, he could teach kids about guns like T.I., or he could do whatever it was that Boy George got ordered to do. Which we think had something to do with imprisoning Swedes in his mansion and then rubbing his tenders all over their chained faces for 80 hours or more. All of that was allegedly under the supervision of some sort of a parole officer.

Allegedly again.

hecklerspray doesn’t have any kids, but if we did we’d demand DNA evidence and a court order to prove it. They ain’t ours, skank.

Of course, once those things were obtained we’d dote on them, treating them each individually with great love and deep respect at least until age six, when their value in the middle east really peaks.

Speaking of which – thanks for the price guide, Amir, but do you have one in the King’s English?

If you think that’s bad – you should see Sharon Stone‘s parenting. She wants to pump her child so full of Botox that his seams start to burst. That’s why a judge just banished her to only seeing him two weekends a month or something.

It is a scientific fact that if the Chinese had properly Botoxed the ground in their country, that earthquake that mercilessly slaughtered them a while back would have been much more fluid in its rumbling. Also it would have been far more enjoyable. Fun even.

Likewise, if Stone had soaked all of her fur-based clothing overnight in tubs filled with Botox, then said attire would likely glow with a radiance it hadn’t known since it was living in its glory. Its glory was probably on a multi-cage mink farm, but you get what we mean.

Perhaps Stone doesn’t know it yet – but Botox could be the answer to all of her worries. Actually, maybe she does know it. We actually have no idea what kind of things are getting tossed around her grey matter up there – except for maybe a rudimentary Basic Instinct 3 outline. And possibly wondering what it’d be like to lick an in-store pumpkin she hadn’t yet paid for. Also maybe she wonders why her school-age son’s feet already seem to have so many frown lines and brow furrows. We really don’t know.

But a certain judge sure seems to have a grasp on her mental goings-on. It’s the judge that recently took Stone’s parental rights (or most of them) and poured them all over her ex-husband. His highness the judge didn’t do it without reason though – he did it because Stone wanted to fill her son’s feet with Botox. E! Online says:

“Specifically, [The Judge] took issue with Stone’s mothering prowess and apparent overreaction to [her son's] complaints. “Mother alleged Roan had a spinal condition,” the judge noted. “There was no evidence to support this allegation.” And this doozy: “Mother suggested that Roan should have Botox injections in his feet to resolve a problem he had with foot odor.”

We know Stone, we know. It’s gotta be hard living in California with a child that can’t wear anything open-toed without you having to lug around one of those oxygen tank things to keep you breathing OK. They make them with wheels you know. You wouldn’t have to carry it.

But obviously something’s gotta be done – and might we suggest that the ‘something’ you try be Saran Wrap. It won’t stop your troubles, but it’ll sure contain them.

And it’ll show the judge you can be a parent without inflicting cosmetic surgeries onto your child.

We hear that’s a real plus in most family courts.

OK, hands up who thought that it’d take 400 years to pick the jury for the new OJ Simpson trial because the whole world obviously hates OJ Simpson.

Anyone? Just us? OK, well then we’re the wrong ones. In actual fact, the jury for OJ Simpson’s armed robbery and kidnap trial has almost been completely picked. What does that mean? Well, most importantly it means that the scene is set for us to plunge headlong into the nitty-gritty of the OJ Simpson trial itself next week.

Secondly it ostensibly means that there are a handful of people in Las Vegas who say they don’t care about OJ Simpson murder acquittal in 1995. But what it actually means is that there’s a handful of people who’ve either hidden their furious bitter hatred of OJ Simpson well enough to pass the jury selection process or are currently busy phoning publishers and scribbling down the first draft of their new book How I Banged OJ Simpson Up. Fun!

The best way to think of OJ Simpson trials, we’ve found, is to think of them as Rocky movies. Honestly – it fits. The first one was a sensation that captured the public’s imagination and took loads of money even though it didn’t have a traditional feel-good ending, and the second one is Rocky 2 – a bit more spurious and clumsily put-together, but more likely to give the public the ending they crave.

Or perhaps it won’t. This week has seen the jury selection process for the OJ Simpson trial take place, and the judge has gone to extreme lengths to ensure that no jurors picked have any lingering resentment over OJ’s acquittal a decade ago.

How successful they’ve been remains to be seen, but at least they’ve done it quickly. Yesterday, during the third day of jury selection, the judge declared the process to be almost over, which was especially thrilling because they’d managed to catch some real lunatics in the process. AP reports:

One man’s angry outburst against Simpson led to a defense motion to dismiss the entire jury pool because everyone had heard it. The man, who had been waiting for three days to have his say, blurted out a comment that stunned the courtroom. “I feel the case down in Los Angeles — if someone got away with that, you would keep yourself clean and you wouldn’t come back and commit another crime,” he said.

Luckily for OJ Simpson, though, this man and others who shared similar opinions were weeded out of the prospective jury pool, leaving only those with no real interest or memory of OJ Simpson’s murder trial in the running to decide his fate. So basically it’s going to be a jury comprised of elderly Alzheimer’s sufferers and some toddlers.

And that’s probably a good thing because, considering that OJ Simpson faces life imprisonment if he’s found guilty of a crime that he was allegedly actually taped doing, he might just need all the help he can get.

But back to the whole Rocky analogy again. Let’s hope the formula sticks, because that way the OJ Simpson trial after next will include a hamfisted Cold War allegory and Paulie getting a robot for his birthday. And isn’t that what everyone wants to see?

Adding a fourth American Idol judge is a bad idea – like adding a fourth wheel to a tricycle, or a fourth leg to the injured dog that walks around hospitals on wheels sometimes.

Not to stretch that metaphor, but it would be fine if the fourth dog leg was as famous as the other three dog legs, but it’s not – it’s a weirdly anonymous dog leg that you wouldn’t even recognise if someone hacked it off and waved it around by itself away from all the other dog legs. Understand? Good.

Anyway. Kara DioGuardi, the new fourth American Idol judge, has now been formally introduced to the public. We could have just said that instead of banging on about dog legs and saved everyone a lot of time and confusion, we suppose. Oh, will we ever learn?

We’re gigantic American Idol fans and we literally treat the show like a God-figure, following its every command. For instance, every time we see the Coca Cola logo on American Idol, we drink two litres of Coca Cola. That’s why, if you ever meet us, we always need to go to the toilet and our teeth are brown and soft.

And because of our serf-like American Idol obedience, this week’s announcement that the new fourth American Idol judge would be songwriter/producer Kara DioGuardi sent us scurrying to the shops to buy every single CD she’s ever worked on. And boy oh boy are we ever glad we did that.

Honestly, we can’t imagine how we survived for so long without knowing the majesty of I Am Me by Ashlee Simpson, nor the eloquent magnificence of Dignity by Hilary Duff. And, just so this is out in public, when we die we want Take It Away by Becky Baeling from the album Ultra Dance 04, perhaps the pinnacle of Kara DioGuardi’s professional achievements, played at our funeral.

But just because we already know so much about Kara DioGuardi that we could probably become fairly proficient stalkers, you don’t know anything about her at all, do you? That’s why it’s lucky that the American Idol gang have formally introduced her to the world during the American Idol auditions in New York.

This is your big chance, Kara. Show everyone what a sparkly, effervescent and charismatic wundergurl you really are! People reports:

DioGuardi admits it was initially intimidating to join the judges’ panel, especially due to Cowell’s notorious reputation for being Idol’s resident meanie. “I was a little bit,” DioGuardi confessed, “but I’m going to hold my own.”

Kapow! Now that’s charisma if ever we saw it. Viewers will be able to see Kara DioGuardi on American Idol when the new season starts in January. Our advice to Kara? Wear clothes that contrast with the chair you sit on. We wouldn’t want people to forget you’re even there, would we?

American Idol is such a television sensation that it can pretty much get any name going, like Prince and Gordon Brown and, um, Taylor Hicks.

So when the American Idol producers decided to shake up the holy trinity of Simon Cowell, Randy Jackson and Paula Abdul and hire a fourth judge, they aimed as high as they possibly could. So who did they pick? Michael Jackson? Madonna? The resuscitated zombie corpse of Elvis Presley? The T-Rex out of Jurassic Park? No. The American Idol producers picked Kara DioGuardi.

What? Don’t look at us. We never said we knew who she was.

They say that a triangle is the strongest structure known to man, and that’s certainly true of the American Idol judging panel – even if that triangle is made of a smug man with tits, a man whose vocabulary is solely comprised of the words ‘dog’ and ‘Hollywood’ and the only woman alive who can break her nose on a dog.

It just works. Randy Jackson, Simon Cowell and Paula Abdul are basically American Idol‘s good cop, bad cop and splutteringly incoherent cop. You’d have to be a gigantic fool of epic proportions to meddle about with that line-up. Which is why someone from American Idol has done exactly that and announced that, as of next season, Kara DioGuardi will become the fourth American Idol judge.

Oh, come on. You know. Kara DioGuardi. She’s that woman who did that thing. You remember. She’s got that haircut. Possibly wears make-up sometimes. Come on.

Oh, alright. We haven’t got the foggiest idea who Kara DioGuardi is either. But Wikipedia knows, and it says she’s a songwriter and producer responsible for hits like Spinning Around by Kylie Minogue, Rich Girl by Gwen Stefani and Ooh Ooh Baby by Britney Spears. You just can’t argue with a pedigree like that. Unless you have ears, in which case you can go right ahead.

We can’t help feeling that this is a massive misstep on the part of the American Idol producers. Sure, Kara DioGuardi might know her way around a song, but when has American Idol ever been about songs? Everyone knows that it’s about wet-mouthed little turds belting out the occasional bad karaoke standard to punctuate the constant sadfaced retelling of their tragic backstory. And we’re fine with that. But songs? Urgh. How crass.

But why has American Idol suddenly decided to hire Kara DioGuardi as a judge anyway? We think we know why – the new season of X Factor has seen its audience boosted by about a million percent because Cheryl Cole out of Girls Aloud is the new judge and, since American Idol‘s ratings have dropped slightly in recent years, it clearly wanted to pull the same trick.

But here’s the thing – people didn’t watch X Factor to see Cheryl Cole give considered feedback to people’s singing ability. They watched it because her footballer husband shagged a load of other women and they hoped that she’d start crying about it.

So we’re doubtful that Kara DioGuardi will make much of an impact on American Idol. That is unless her boyfriend once got so drunk that he puked on a slag while having sex with her. We’re not idiots.