Sometimes it’s hard to be a woman. There’s all that mucking about with howling at the moon once a month, either unsupported or badly scorched boobs, the constant struggle to be heard within an oppresive patriarchal society, and to quote Bernard Black, oh, the dancing!

But then again, sometimes it’s hard to be a thunderously self-obsessed, overpriveleged jackanape as well. So you’ve really got to feel for poor old Julia Roberts in Eat Pray Love, drowning prettily in an exotic blend of both of these maladies. My goodness, it’s a wonder she can move her puny bones under the weight of her first world problems. So, is it worth 140 minutes of our time watching her fret and eat and ponder and pray and laugh and love?

Seriously? Eat Pray Love? Well, let us put it this way. Puke Scream Die.

The based-on-a-true story is this: Liz Gilbert, woman, jackanape, inexplicably successful godawful writer of tortured “love is a drug” metaphors and broadsheet travel tosspieces, is dissatisfied with her life. Sure, she’s got the big house and the amazing career, but her husband wants to better himself, the selfish bastard, and there’s so many places in the world she wants to go (you know, apart from all the places she’s already been paid to go to in no small amount of luxury). Plus, it’s raining and her hardwood floors make her look fat.

So she does what all of us would do when battered with such outrageous misfortune; tries to summon God like He’s her own personal concierge to rub her feet and tell her she’s wonderful. And when that doesn’t work, God presumably being too busy not existing/helping American popstars write their albums, she dumps her blameless husband with no explanation and effs off round the world for a year to, and take a deep calming breath before you read the next bit, find herself.

More’s the pity, she didn’t subsequently leave herself there, so the book of her experiences has become the film of the book and we’ve all got to sit here and deal with it. And what horrendous wonders the film encompasses! An omni-patronising global gallop around the most picturesque bits of Italy, India and Bali; an old episode of Holiday with Julia Roberts looking pensive in tastefully ethnic-appropriate clothing photoshopped over Judith Chalmers and her “radioactive mum at C&A” ensembles.

In Italy, Liz eats pasta like it’s a sexually explicit act and simpers at stereotypical nuns eating stereotypical ice-cream and stereotypical young men on stereotypical Vespas honking at passing women like stereotypical imaginary neanderthals. In India, Liz joins a spiritual retreat to meditate and find it in her heart to forgive her husband for his incredibly selfish act of being left by her. In Bali, hecklerspray had already been watching for two solid hours and could no longer make out the screen through the white-hot sheen engulfing all our senses, the result of our frontal cortex shutting down in a desperate act of self-preservation, but we think it was something to do with Javier Bardem being dashing with his enormous Easter Island face.

It’s hard to know what the most offensive thing is about Puke Scream Die. There’s the fact that every single person in it is an awful, awful bastard. Utterly self-involved, of the impression that the whole planet has been conjured into existence solely for their own personal fulfilment. The sort of person who follows gurus because they’re “hot”, or plonks themselves in a church and sneers “Go on then, deity. Impress me with your little tricks.” The sort of person who goes to a spiritual retreat in India, complains that it’s boring and hot and doesn’t specifically cater to their personal needs, before announcing they’ve found God and by a staggering coincidence, His plan for them is to be EXACTLY AS SELF-REGARDING AND TEDIOUS AS THEY ARE. The kind of person who should be forced to do one, just one, honest day’s work in their stupid, vapid lives. Or at least write an article about Muse and spend ten minutes dealing with the furious hordes and their burning bile.

People, if you cut us, we bleed. We bleed more bad words about Muse. You’ve only got yourselves to blame.

Maybe the most offensive thing about Puke Scream Die is its constant insistence that Julia Roberts is so brave, so courageous, for her year-long flit from the daily drudgery of normal human responsibilities. Oh, the bravery, to have so much disposable income you can move to a foreign country with nary a care and immediately fall into a circle of English-speaking Eurosycophants who are just as pleased with every numbskull utterance that falls from their blubbering lips as your self-satisfied New York friends! Oh, no. You’re not getting away with that one, Julia Roberts. hecklerspray stopped going to work so we could concentrate on getting in touch with our inner self once. No-one said we were brave. In fact, they mostly said “For the last time, stop rummaging around in my bins.” To put it another way, here are three things that need more bravery than pissing off to Bali on an expense account to condescend the local pensioners: 1. Eating a kumquat. 2. Tying your shoelaces whilst on a moving train. 3. Watching this video.

Basically, Eat Pray Love is balderdash. But worse than that, it’s long, deeply tedious, over-serious balderdash that fuels the ridiculous notion that self-fulfilment is something to strive for no matter how many faces you trample on to achieve it.

Oh, and that there’s no way you can be happy unless you’re massively, massively rich, which is nonsense, because Tesco Value Cider is only a quid for two litres. It’s Valentine’s Day soon; any hecklersprayers pondering a cosy, romantic movie for the evening would do well to choose Eat Pray Love, as it’s so horrific that your chosen companion would probably acquiesce to the most depraved activities rather than watch past the half-hour mark. But everyone else, avoid like the plague, eat some Heinz spaghetti on toast and pray that this garbage never darkens your door. Oh, and remember…love yourself.

But not like THAT! You filthmongers.

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Everyone knows that, in movies, it’s tough being a woman.

The roles on offer tend to only be those of kindly nuns, tearful wives silently rinsing cups in the sink, or unbelievable ball breakers. There is no real middle ground. Of course, one other role that we haven’t mentioned yet is that of a wonderful prostitute.

Everyone’s played one, from Jane Fonda to Charlize Theron. So with that in mind, we thought it best to highlight the greatest on-screen hookers of them all.

Julia Roberts, Pretty Woman

Yeah, that’s right, you probably thought that to become a prostitute, a woman needed to be a toothless, cackling, drug addict. And it’s a forgiveable misconception, because up until Pretty Woman came out, that’s what we all thought. Plus, gentlemen who used hookers to satisfy their seedy wants were often characterised as sweaty fat men who wouldn’t be able to correctly smear sensual handfuls of soft margarine into a lady’s buttocks for the life of them. Then Julia Roberts and Richard Gere made every single one of us THINK AGAIN. Him a sexy lothario adept at love makes, her just a girl, standing in a room, demanding money for intercourse. What a wonderful whore.

Patricia Arquette, True Romance

After Roberts threw everyone into a spin by scrubbing up well for a street walker, Patricia Arquette brought us all thundering back down to Earth with her portrayal of a call girl dressed in a Barbie doll’s slutty cast-offs. The film begins with Arquette giving Christian Slater some birthday sex as a freebie, then ends up with her strolling into the sunset with her “Trick”. But not before she’s emotionally blackmailed him into murdering her pimp. Clever girl.

Jamie Lee Curtis, Trading Places

As with the two previous prostitutes, Jamie Lee Curtis ends up coming off the game, thanks to true love, and a lot of money. It’s no secret that Jamie Lee Curtis splits consensus, with her rather harsh, angular face. But she also owned one of those 1980s figures that could almost pull off a daring up-the-bum leotard – as worn in a John Travolta film that we can’t remember. Plus, she used one scene in Trading Places to unleash her big juicy bosoms – a moment etched on the minds of a generation. In many ways, she was the perfect brass.

Rebecca De Mornay, Risky Business

Hookers, as is probably well documented, sometimes have to make sacrifices for their work. None more so than Rebecca De Mornay in Risky Business, who was forced to endure full-length body-licks from Tom Cruise’s slobbering walrus-like tongue. Eventually, having stolen a precious egg from the mantelpiece, the pair strike up an unlikely friendship, and it’s not long before her girls are turning tricks and doling out special offer h-jobs from the comfort of Cruise’s family home. This makes the fiercely macho actor appear part-pimp/part-madam, depending on your point of view. And De Mornay a proz with a brain for business, and a body… for business.

Elisabeth Shue, Leaving Las Vegas

Whilst the above prostitutes had the time of their lives servicing their johns, Elisabeth Shue issues a chilling warning that sometimes it’s not all great breakfasts and suitcases of cocaine. Sometimes, it’s Nicolas Cage drinking himself to death, while your downtrodden hooker damn well falls in love with him. Great money, tragic outcome. This film suggests that becoming a prostitute might actually be a bad thing.

This was a guest post by Josh Burt from Interestment. If you like him so much, why don’t you marry him?

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Ever since gorgeous Marilyn Monroe stepped out with George-Formby lookalike Joe DiMaggio, a handful of famous stunners have continued the trend of unveiling their new boyfriends to the sound of a thousand showbusiness journalists dry puking whilst attempting to write short hand.

Surely the rules dictate that great looking people should stick to their own kind, not dabble in the swamp waters of the ugly pool? Not so, say these five beautiful rebels…

Jennifer Lopez

Recently back on the acting circuit having forced some babies out, Lopez has dazzled with her looks for years. Her face is nice, she’s got hair even silkier than a silk worm’s pocket, and she started the taut-stomach-gargantuan-arse trend that has swept the planet. Good for her. She must be married to a male model or George Clooney or something, right? Actually no, you’re way off. Totally ignoring convention, Jennifer Lopez chose to avoid humans altogether, and instead married a talented singing rat, sweetly known as Marc Anthony – not to be confused with the Ancient Roman statesman, who, by the way, was probably quite hot.

Julia Roberts

Hey, that Julia Roberts is one heck of a gal. Anyone who saw her playing the slutty young prostitute who’d do absolutely anything but kiss on the lips probably found out to their detriment that prostitutes do not look like Julia Roberts. And plenty of them do actually kiss on the mouth. Serious Pretty Woman plot-holes aside, in real life, Roberts spent the mid-90s married to a crack-whore-alike called Lyle Lovett. One of the few living humans who would actually come out better in a cartoon caricature, Lovett only managed two years with the actress, before she cited “career demands” as her made-up reason for wanting a divorce.

Christina Aguilera

Some of the notes that Christina Aguilera can hit are fantastic, we especially like it when she’s really working an E sharp, and her lips start quivering while she sings. It was a technique first introduced by Whitney Houston in the 1980s. Unfortunately, the Whitney comparisons end right there, because while Houston snared a hottie like Bobby Brown, Aguilera has veered disturbingly off piste, and is now married to  a mole-faced teenager called Jordan Bratman. At first sight, the celebrity world bit their collective lips, nodded politely and attempted to smile, but when Christina mentioned that the pair like to spend their Sundays naked, small chunks of sick were universally coughed out.

Natalie Portman

Natalie Portman is a wonderful looking girl, and aspirational – after all, girls, she’s both beautiful, business savvy, and she went to a polytechnic. That’s one hell of a chick. Plus in Closer, which was an appalling film, she buoyed everyone’s spirits by slipping on a pink hair piece and wiggling her bottom. Like these other girls, she should obviously be going out with a real hunk. And yet, she once enjoyed many sweaty evening dripping hot candle wax onto Devendra Banhart‘s hungry wolf-like thighs. For those who haven’t a clue who Devendra is, he’s Siavash‘s hairier counterpart.

Lily Allen

If it’s true that it’s who you are on the inside that counts, Lily Allen might actually be slightly punching above her weight with her doughy faced boyfriends. But, as it, is, this list is judged on outward beauty alone, which, in this case, makes Lily Allen really quite good looking. Hence, you’d expect her to be dating an equally good looking pillock, like that Kris guy who was on Big Brother, or someone wearing tight jeans pretending to be on heroin. But no, her type appears to be middle-aged chubsters who could probably do a decent impersonation of the fat man taking a cannon ball in the belly. Like the one from the Chemical Brothers, for example.

For more of this gold, visit Josh’s sterling website Interestment.

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hecklerspray probably has 10 nightmares a night. The most recent one included us stuck in a jail that was entirely made of fish. It was terrifying until the jailer brought us tartar sauce – then it was scrumptious.

The second most recent night terror we had included Julia Roberts riding a Harley straight out of hell. It looked almost identical to those three Meatloaf album covers actually, except in Roberts' one fist she was clenching the spinal columns of what appeared to be 200 babies, and in the other she was leafing through the script for Pretty Woman II: The Moral Dilemma Of A Hooker In Love. Oh, and she was wearing the cutest pink skirt. Other than that the imagery all looked exactly like Meatloaf's albums.

A few Paparazzi recently got closer to our nightmares than we would ever hope to be. Morgan Freeman jumped on their car and started hosing them with a Super Soaker full of that black stuff from a smoker's lung. Wait – no that was our third to last dream. It's always celebrity something or other. What happened to those camera flashers was a fraction less disease-encrusted but equally scary.

They got chased down by an angry arm-waving horn-honking Julia Roberts.

Rarely is physical violence associated with Julia Roberts. Sure, she played the part of Skeletor in that 80's He-Man movie, but that was a real stretch. Seriously, go back and compare the noses – it couldn't not be her. Other than that, aggressive behavior is never associated with the woman. Now, she does want to permanently erase Angelina Jolie from all movies ever, but she'd probably do that with editing software, not her fingers.

With such an overall passive persona it may come as a shock to most of you the woman recently chased down some Paparazzi in her own automobile, and when she caught them she shattered their jaws with the gold brick we heard she always carries with her.

Well that's not quite true – but she did give them a very thorough tongue lashing and a fist threat. E! says:

"In video of the incident, the pretty mad woman, behind the wheel of her biodiesel Mercedes, flags down a paparazzo who had previously been on her tail. After stopping, she lectures the lensman about the appropriateness of staking out a schoolyard. "You know what, you want to take me on? It's a fair fight," Roberts said in an interview airing Monday and Tuesday. "You want to do anything near my children, you're going to have a fucking fist in your face! Metaphorically speaking.""

See? She tacked on the 'metaphorically speaking' part. Good thing too, because that paparazzi was out uncle, and if she puts her fist in his face, she puts it in ours! And you know what we do when we get fists in out faces?

We bleed mostly, so please everyone always just be extra careful around us.

Read More:

Video: Julia Roberts Chases Paparazzi – Associated Press

Now, ask any man who lives in the past to name two actresses that he'd like to see have a bit of a wrestle in a mud-filled paddling pool and, after some heavy prompting, there's a chance he might say Julia Roberts and Angelina Jolie.

That wouldn't happen now, though – nobody in their right mind would want to see the scrawny adopting lady and the middle-aged woman with the horse's mouth do anything even vaguely erotic – but it isn't stopping Julia Roberts from getting all bitchy about Angelina Jolie. According to reports, Julia Roberts hates Angelina Jolie and says she could have easily done a better job at A Mighty Heart than Angelina – something that we'd be inclined to agree with. After all, Angelina Jolie really didn't explore the goofy, fun-loving, spontaneously-laughing-out-loud side of Marianne Pearl when she went on the harrowing journey through Pakistan to track down her dead husband as well as we'd have liked.

Actors aren't usually known for their bitchiness. For example, just look at the Oscars – a giant smug circle-jerk where overpaid puppets get to congratulate themselves on educating the world on important issues just because they made a film about a man who goes on holiday to Africa once. 

However, it seems as if Julia Roberts is the antidote to that, because she bloody well hates the arse off Angelina Jolie. Star magazine is reporting that Julia Roberts was recently watching A Mighty Heart with some friends, when she viciously laid into Angelina Jolie's performance with a foul-mouthed tirade so vile that three of her guests actually vomited and another one fainted like at the start of Quincy. What did Julia Roberts supposedly say about Angelina Jolie? Why, this:

"I would rarely way this, but I think I could have done a better job with this film."

Ouch! Take that Angelina Jolie! Julia Roberts thinks she would have done a better job of blacking her face up and adopting a distracting French accent in that miserable film you made that nobody even watched. How will Angelina Jolie react to such strong fighting talk? By saying that Julia Roberts was a shit Tinkerbell? By wiping her bum on a VHS copy of Flatliners? We just don't know.

And it doesn't end there. According to Star, Julia Roberts' husband Danny Moder worked on Mr & Mrs Smith and is full of stories about what a strumpet Angelina Jolie was towards Brad Pitt:

"Danny told her it was obvious that Angelina was making a play for Brad. People on the set called her the Spider-Woman because she was spinning a web for Brad. Julia said Angelina had no shame. She’s made it pretty clear that she doesn’t hold Angie in high regard."

What brought all of this on, we wonder? Is it because Angelina Jolie managed to get in Brad Pitt's pants after half a movie but Julia Roberts couldn't manage it despite being in The Mexican, Ocean's Eleven and Ocean's Twelve with him? Is it because Julia Roberts is resentful that she has to grow babies inside her and then push them out of her vagina when Angelina Jolie can just swan off and grab one from a poor country?

Or is it, as we suspect, because Julia Roberts has a film coming out soon – the first film in three years where she hasn't played the voice of an insect – and a catfight with a popular actress is just the thing to ramp up publicity for both Roberts' new film and the Oscar buzz over Angelina Jolie's performance in A Mighty Heart? 

If that's so, let's all hope it works, because the last thing we want to do is write anything with the headline 'Oi Kidman, You Ginger Wanker!' Roars Julia Roberts.

Read more:

Julia's Jolie Pop – Megastar