Alright, another hollerin’ at the back. So then. What the hell is going on here? And why do we still visit this wretched website, and why do our children all live in cabins where they currently do not have phone connections? – We hear you cry!  Don’t worry, we’ll give you a leg up.

So, we’ve all had our run-ins with the ol’ Twitter dot com over the past couple of years, haven’t we?  O, the scandal that have been caused! O, the incensed exhales we have expended! O, The Macarena! It was all going so well.

Alas as it came to stand, somewhere down the line, the social networking database has met with disaster, and heartache, like in that film The Social Network, about the other social network. Then in came the cruel side of Twitter: The superinjections, the brain of Natalie Cassidy, and of course the having of an Alan Sugar Twitter account.

Here at hecklerspray, in a brand new feature, we hope to eradicate all that shame, and take Twitter back to the haven that it once was when it started all the way back when in 2006, when times were simpler, and Twitter looked like this.

We have taken it upon ourselves, and only us alone, (like that bit in The Matrix where they let Keanu Reeves have some lunch on a bench because he didn’t feel like chatting) to sort out this whole sorry mess, in a mature, selfless and all manner of sexy way, and single handedly try and solve every single  problem one of our HAPPYFACE-challenged celebrity friends have found themselves taking to Twitter for help this week.  Or about five or six or something. Come on.

GLADIATORS READY.

@Christine Bleakley: “How amazing were our celebs tonight. The best bunch ever xx”

Phew.

Hey Christine, welcome to hecklerspray!

Although this isn’t strictly a question, we think we see what you’re trying to say. You feel so overwhelmed by the plight of the celebrity subconscious that you are fearful you won’t live up to your standards. Like those press cars shrieking down that secluded French alley that brutally butchered the Princess of Wales: not with flying bits of metal and internal bleeding: But with curiosity. Yes, we totally understand. We get that too. We just don’t varnish or try and be happy. So, as you were saying, Christine. You’re really worried about dying. Well Christine, no one wants to die. But unfortunately, we all do – but never fear. In these waking moments before the inevitable strikes, we suggest spending time with loved ones, cancelling all your TV contracts if needs be, and just getting the most Christine Bleakley can get out of being Christine Bleakley.

If you’re curious now, we hear freezing to death is actually quite euphoric. Thanks for writing in.

@JulianClary: “Fortunately I’m sponsored by Mac.”

Ah, well that’s very good news, Julian. You clearly appreciate good cosmetics. Not all problems have to be bad. Thanks for checking in.

@JulianClary: “Fortunately I’m sponsored by Mac.“

Oh.

@thekeithchegwin: “What’s orange and sounds like a parrot?”

Hi there Keith.

We don’t know!

@thekeithchegwin: “Half of Essex“

Ah we see. Very amusing.

@SnoopDogg: “wat u on 2day? it’s #puffpuffpasstuesdays!!“

@Dane Bowers: “Why do people always point out miskeyed tweets or misspelling?! So what! Keys are pretty close together people! Bore off!!“

Dear Dane,

Come on, sport. It’s not like you to get all boiled up in such idle pedantry. Just think of what championed wordsmith Hunter S Thompson, or Dane Bowers might say! Oh wait – how embarassing. THAT’S YOU! Just remember, it’s important to keep face (Especially your lovely one with all that Dane Bowers molecular structure all over it. Phwoar.) at times like this. So somebody ‘miskeyed’. Big whoop. We’re sure even Queen Elizabeth or Stevie Wonder did once too.  Just remember, you always will be the one who wrote ‘Shut Up And Forget About It’ in 2009, Dane. That will never not be you.

“Hope your silicone bursts
You’ll never get signed
But I feel sorry for you
‘Cause your baby is blind”

@MissAmyChilds: “Really random bit I must be the only person that doesn’t like nandos x”

Hi Amy,

We have to say we were rather moved by this. It’s not every day you get a celebrity quite as upbeat and up for a laugh as yourself on Twitter these days. And considering you look mid-arterial embolism 80% of the time, it makes what you have had the guts to tell us here even more admirable.

So, feeling left out from the pack. Amy, this is unfortunately commonplace, especially for a girl with your particular choice of zany hue for a hair colour. First and foremost, the thing to know is this: It’s not your fault. Nandos does serve, admittedly, quite a lot of chicken. And hey, not everyone likes chicken. The key thing to remember is this does not make you a freakish bog-eyed ITV2 psychopath. It does not. Far from it. As for those people who say that all neutral flavoured things transgress back to tasting like chicken? Nought but lonely young boys with eating disorders whom’s nerves have been deadened by the lack of a motherly touch, pretending the air surrounding Robin Williams is actual food. So we’d say you have the edge on them at least, Amy.

@Only1AlexReid: “Lying in bed with Mrs Bump in a hotel in Westminster completely done in from the 10k mud marathon followed by jiujitsu.Up early 4 DayBreak”

Sorry Alex, we’re just not emotionally stable enough to deal with this right now.

@JulianClary: “Fortunately I’m sponsored by Mac.”

Oh GOD FINE. We’ll deal with the Alex Reid thing.

@Only1AlexReid: “Lying in bed with Mrs Bump in a hotel in Westminster completely done in from the 10k mud marathon followed by jiujitsu.Up early 4 DayBreak”

Dear Alex,

All of that is amazing and we know it must be hard having a baby with Chantelle Houghton. Especially with Beyonce and Jay Z copying your exact idea and then writing cruel songs about how Beyonce can’t have a miscarriage because she’s magic. As for all of the other things you mentioned. Well it’s fairly easy to decipher.

WWW.SAMARITANS.ORG
WWW.SAMARITANS.ORG
WWW.SAMARITANS.ORGSIJSOISJPSOIKSO

Christ…

And there you have it, another week of celebrity mishaps all cleaned up. If you come across any lost souls, collecting their jars of hearts, tearing their love apart because they’re going to catch a cold from the ice inside their soul, then please do not hesitate to email in or leave a comment, and you could be saving a life too. Such as Michael Barrymore and his constant conquest to get in touch with Dara O’Briain. And remember, Dr Heckle is only licensed to deal with menial problems such as these. For emotional health and race hate, go to Dear Deidre.

Goodnight!

Dreadful orange sloppy-seconds-bargain-bin-Jordan Chantelle ‘Chantelle’ Houghton, not content with hawking her fake breasts, fake eyelashes and, we presume, non-fake pregnant belly has this week launched an all-out assault on anyone with any sense of decorum whatsoever.

Appearing in nothing more than a bikini in more tatty publications and websites than we were even aware existed (Celebrity Baby Scoop anyone? Anyone? We’re not even making it up) Chantelle has been coining it something rotten from her four-month old child, serving only to remind the world that she is swelled with the product of ex-Katie Price ‘Reidenator’ Alex Reid.

‘Reidenator’. Yes. Katie ‘Jordan’ Price said that out loud.

Do you know what Chantelle said out loud, discussing her apparent inability to get pregnant – because that’s just the thing to mention when promoting one’s new range of fake eyelashes that no-one will buy when the Girls Aloud ones are still on the shelves in Boots no matter how pregnant you are – do you? This:

‘What’s the saying? Where there’s a sperm, there’s a way. I only release an egg three times a year, so the chances of me actually getting pregnant naturally were one per cent – slim to none. I think maybe it happened because we weren’t just having sex to get pregnant any more.’

Ensuring that any right-thinking person vomits from their very eyes at the thought of ‘Reidenating’ in action and never has sex with anyone again.

Chantelle’s unborn foetus was unavailable for comment at time of publication, but sources claim it could live without all the front-page manky magazine coverage until it’s at least born, but is getting-on ok with its housemates and has even nicknamed them “The Silicone Twins”.

And is very proud of it’s mother.

Classy children’s author and stain on the pants of society, Katie Price, has insisted that she would never have sex on the first date.

Stop laughing.

Yes,the horse lover (and horse killer), formally known as  Jordan, turned up on Loose Women to talk about how she’s not the kind of girl who does that kind of thing, despite the fact she pumped the virginity right out of Gareth Gates in a London Hotel in 2002.

We remember things you see.  We also remember that sex tape she made. (Google it you perverts, we’re not here to help you sin.)

Speaking with her voice she said:

“I’m not into doing the one night thing. It’s like, how long do you leave it before you do it?”

“Because I always think if you are going to give it to them straight away, then they think that you’re a dirtbag, and I’m not a dirtbag even though I want to jump into bed with them.”

*cough* dirtbag *cough*

With a list of ex partners, longer than Peter Andre’s remote control sized penis and her last victim boyfriend Leandro Penna, now broken and back in Argentina, she admits she finds it easy to fall in love.

“Even if I’m trying to be cool then I’ll either be really shy and I can’t eat in front of them or I don’t know, I go all silly. I’m an absolute nightmare.”

Yes you are. A great big Wes Craven style nightmare, THAT NEVER, EVER ENDS.

She just kept talking.

“People think that I’m this strong bolshy girl, but I’m not. I’m gullible, I fall head over heels, but I’d rather be like that than not like that.”

AND TALKING.

“I don’t like to play games, I can’t be bothered with that, I’m too old for that now. If I’m going to text them and if they don’t text or call back then I’ve got to the point whereby I don’t want to play games, if you’re not interested and you try and play games and make me keen on you and be cool, forget it, I’m not interested. If you like someone go for it, life’s too short.”

And you lot said she didn’t write her own novels.  SHAME ON YOU.

So there you have it.

We have no idea what to do with this news either.

You all remember Kim Kardashian, right? She’s the business woman and entrepreneur who is also the star of her own reality television series with her whole family. She’s worth a bit of cash is Kim but, in keeping with the American dream, vacuous idiots can always have more.

Is Kim Kardashian a vacuous idiot? IS SHE? WE ASKED IF YOU THOUGHT KIMMY K WAS A BLITHERING NINCOMPOOP?

No, of course she isn’t. Why?

Well, you might remember (or have had it forced down your throat by us every two days for the last month) that Kim was married to a young gentleman called Kris Humphries. Their marriage lasted something like 70 days before it was declared that they were splitting up citing “musical differences” or some such nonsense.

Many people with an iota of sense have claimed that the marriage was a stitch-up job, designed to allow Kim to sell the TV rights to her inspiring ‘life after Kris’ story and make a mint in the process. You’re probably thinking “Oh no! Poor Kris Humphries that I’ve never heard of before!” Don’t worry. He’s in on it too.

That makes Kim Kardashian a very intelligent woman indeed. Imagine the show! Think Katie Price’s documentary after her split with middle-parting extraordinaire Peter Andre. But with a bigger arse and a bigger budget.

Sounds exciting, doesn’t it? The chance to see a grown woman pretend to be heartbroken for the benefit of a camera crew. Still, she’s got to keep the illusion up and who better to “set the record straight” than Kim’s very own Mum.

Dear ol’ Mama Jenner told Now! Magazine:

‘It certainly wasn’t a sham or something for TV,’

It certainly was.

‘We have enough going on that we don’t need to make things up.’

They don’t have to make things up. They have enough going on. They’ve just finished redecorating the Moon Base and they’re now moving on to upgrade the engines in Mrs Jenner’s Krispy Kreme sponsored Donut Rocket.

‘Kim really felt like she was in love with money Kris Humphries. It was an amazing time. Like all of us that were watching, I had no idea there was a problem.’

Perhaps if they had done a ‘Newlyweds’ style show, the American public could have seen the cracks forming! Everyone likes to see a couple hurtle perpetually towards a messy divorce.

‘It saddens me that one of the rumours is we sold the TV rights, which isn’t true. And that she profited from the wedding is absolutely not true.’

It’s not true, y’hear? Not true. That’s her mum saying that and she would have been involved in the negotiation of any TV rights so you can rest assured that it’s all poppycock.

‘She feels like she’s let a lot of people down. She’s sick about it.’

That’s true. It hasn’t been the same since Stuart Heritage left.

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And just when we thought Alex Reid’s career couldn’t sink any lower… he announces that he’s due to tour the country and strip off in front of hundreds of people night after night.

Fresh from getting engaged to, and talking about wanting babies with, fellow former Celebrity Big Brother alumna Chantelle Houghton, Alex has announced that he’s due to star in the play, yes someone’s actually cast him in a play, Wildboyz.

And people say that theatre is too high-brow.

Other stars of the show, about a group of lads who decide to become strippers, you know, like in that film with Robert Carlisle, will include Danny Young, who played Warren in Corrie, Marcus Patrick a.k.a. Ben Davies from Hollyoaks and Dale Howard, from… erm… Big Brother.

This has Olivier Award written all over it.

Wildboyz is due to grace the towns of Stevenage, Bradford, Leicester, Skegness, Colchester, Plymouth, Newcastle and Margate. And while there are no immediate plans for a West End run we here at hecklerspray are certain that Messrs Reid, Patrick, Young and Howard will be treading the boards at the Victoria, Apollo or Gielgud in no time.

Whether the theatre will be open that day or not will be another matter.

The show has been described, by the people who have been paid to lie about how good it is, as:

A hysterical tease from the beginning to its spectacular climax, lifting the lid on the world of celebrity, with audience participation, guaranteeing not a dry seat in the house.

Not a dry seat? Are the audience all going to void the bowels with shame after being subjected to Alex Reid’s acting talent?

That’s REALLY selling it to us.

One thing remains certain at least, even with pictures like the one below floating around, there’s not much of a chance of Alex or the rest of the Wildboyz being signed by Katie Price.

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Premieres for big blockbusters usually take place in cinemas with names like ODEON, CINEWORLD, GRAUMAN’S or BOGNOR REGIS CINEMASCOPE but it seems that the makers of Paranormal Activity are positively itching to associate their horrifying, overdone claptrap with Channel 5′s flagship horrifying, overdone claptrap.

And, as such, the premiere of Paranormal Activity III took place in front of a star-studded audience inside the Big Brother compound proving once and for all that crossover episodes are never as realistic as you hope.

It had been expected that Channel 5 would take the opportunity of having a scary film playing in the compound to systematically murder all of the housemates and celebrities who were assembled inside and the world (100 people whose remotes were broken) watched on with bated breath, waiting for the axe-murderer to be released into the house.

Unfortunately the reality was much less interesting (much like Big Brother, in fact). In fact no actual celebrities turned up to the event, leaving the organisers to sift through the dregs of the Z-List. People who were willing to coo about how good the inevitably terrible film was in order to get £50 from the poor bastards doing PR for yet another shark-jumping horror sequel.

On that subject, we did make the slightly erroneous claim that the premiere was ‘star-studded’ but perhaps a ‘diamanté vajazzled’ audience would be a more accurate term. Well-known Jordan lookalike Katie Price (the one with the tits that she hates us mentioning), Dane Bowers (of ‘sexing Katie Price’ fame), Ironik (the least ironic man alive) and Michelle Heaton (nope, no idea) were among the great washed-up to enter the compound in the pursuit of enough money to buy a loaf of bread and some crack.

Of course, it’s yet another premiere that hecklerspray wasn’t invited to despite us finally meeting the criteria that many of our commenters lay down for us. “What have you ever achieved?” We would argue that we’ve achieved more than Dane Bowers and yet here we are picking the mould off the bottom of our tea cups while he has an awkward conversation with Katie Price about male ejaculate over some plastic nachos.

We can’t win.

The third instalment of the horror franchise is set 18 years before the first film, and is directed by the people who made Catfish, a film that is almost as awful as Paranormal Activity III is bound to be.

Wikileaks founder Julian Assange probably knows all of your deepest and darkest secrets, but it seems like no one wants to know any of his as his new unauthorised autobiography has failed to set the literary world alight.

Since being released last week “Julian Assange: The Unauthorarised Autobiography,” hasn’t managed to shift more than 1,000 copies.

Assange will undoubtedly blame the poor sales on some bizarre CIA conspiracy plot, instead of accepting the fact that no one really cares about him or his allegedly criminal penis.

According to the publishers of the book, Canongate, the slow sales have meant that despite all the media furore surrounding Assange and this unauthorised biography, the only people who have actually made any money out of it are Julian and his aforementioned, allegedly criminal, penis.

Assange and “little Julian” accepted an advance believed to be in the region of £250,000 from Canongate, which was then spunked away on lawyers to help ensure that Julian and his member were kept from being put behind bars in Sweden, following allegations of rape that were definitely part of one of those US conspiracies that sane and logical people always go on about at dinner parties or street corners, whilst wearing tin foil hats.

Rumours we just made up are abound that Canongate are in the process of asking best selling author Katie Price to knock up another draft whilst she’s between husbands, in the hope that maybe she would add some credibility and interest to the title.

Katie Price could not be reached for comment. Mainly because we can’t stand her.

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The curse of Celebrity Big Brother is rearing its ugly head again as former contestants and professional divorcees Alex Reid and Chantelle Houghton announce that they think they’re ready to reproduce.

Jordan’s former fella spread the word via one of those glossy lady rags that you see in your dentist’s waiting room, but would never pick up because there’s a picture of Alex Reid on the cover trying his best to look like he’s still a cage-fighter…

…or vaguely relevant.

According to Reid, who’s been dating Chantelle for less than 6 months, Houghton is, “the one.” He didn’t clarify whether he meant romantically or in more of an intellectual capacity, but for arguments sake we’ll just assume he meant he’s willing to spend the rest of his life with a woman who secretly arranged for photographers to follow her and her ex, Rav Wilding, around, just so that she’d get some column inches.

The lawyers have informed us that we should probably point out that it’s only alleged that Chantelle had the paparazzi follow her around, but let’s be honest, we all know it was true.

So, with a cross dressing cage fighter and an equally imbecilic former Paris Hilton impersonator for parents, what can we expect from this imminently arriving celebrity sprog?

First off, upon exiting the womb the baby will be expected to sign an exclusivity deal with both OK! Magazine and Channel 5, ensuring that every word, step, burp and bowel movement will be documented live for our entertainment. It’ll be like the Truman Show, but with a disturbing sexual undertone.

Secondly, the baby is going to be stupid and we blame the parents. Let’s face it, Reid and Houghton have probably spent more time on a sun bed than they have curled up with a good book.

Thirdly, it’s inevitable that Alex and Chantelle, or Alelle as we are now to call them, will be voted as celebrity parents of the year. Despite the fact the child was quite obviously just a PR stunt that they’ll end up dumping 6 months later, like the proverbial kitten in a sack.

Good luck Alex and Chantelle. May the fruit of your loins be every bit as charismatic and loveable as you are.

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Run for cover! Katie Price (or Jordan if you live in the ’90s) is threatening us all with a new album. Aren’t there war crime tribunals for things like this? Seriously. We need someone like James Bond and some piano wire to sort this, post haste.

We know this because she cruelly asked everyone on Twitter what songs we’d like to hear her singing.

Of course, there were those who asked her to never open her mouth to make any kind of sound ever again, but alas, Price is not a woman who takes no for an answer, as her many, many marriages and babies are testament to.

The last time she made an album, it was a disaster on every level. 2006′s A Whole New World, which featured ex-husband Peter Andre, saw God Almighty considering reversing evolution to see that humans never developed ears (but alas, had better things to do like consoling child molesting priests from their nagging consciences).

Price tweeted:

‘I want to do another album for next year what would my fans prefer cover songs – new songs or mixture?’

One idiot suggested Adele’s Someone Like You and Price replied with:

‘Me and Leo love that song its our fav song.’

We can’t imagine Adele is much of a Katie Price fan to be quite frank and will no doubt do everything she can to ensure Price’s goose-like singing voice doesn’t get anywhere near her song.

Mercifully, one hecklerspray reader chirruped

‘you can’t sing so I wouldn’t bother’

This saw Price reply with

‘Whether you think I can sing or not at least I do things I want in life your obviously a person who would rather knock people.’

This is a woman who once described Jodie Marsh as having a nose like a ‘builder’s elbow’. Ms Pot? Meet Mr Kettle. That said, we have to applaud such a needlessly nasty snark.

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Here’s some advice. Fashion yourself a miniature love nest in your room, masturbate wrathfully for the next four days, then click the following link.

This link right here.

Yes, that’s right.You physically cannot produce enough paranoia and semen to replicate this video, can you? Well, seeing as you’re all loved out – it is all here, spread out in the This Morning studio. And apparently Ruth Langford’s preferred choice of hair mousse. Whatever. Chantelle Houghton and Alex Reid were never meant to be a couple. This is just a Closer magazine work experience girl typing a caption wrong. This is why communism was ultimately an unsuccessful idea. Most importantly, this is why Katie Price should stop marrying male prostitutes.

If you are currently unable to watch the video due to voluntary paralysis, here are a few choice quotes from one the most loveless pieces of television we have ever seen since that BBC sitcom where Jasper Carrot fathered a wheelchair-bound mute.

Chantelle Houghton on why she loves her new boyfriend Alex Reid

“When he walks into a room he is literally like a hurricane.”

Alex Reid on the tragedy of falling in love with a celebrity

“Why didn’t I just date a girl from the library? You know?”

Alex Reid on battling Atypical Depression

“My heart was a bit broken back then. But erm, she’s mended it.”

And not forgetting

“We share a lot of common experiences. Like Big Brother. And marriage.”

And to think we thought they were just rutting for money.

However, as Eamonn and his dried up cavern of a wife very helpfully point out – due to this dramatic amalgamating of two of the major power forces of British culture, there is unfortunately a risk of running into a bit of completely unwanted paparazzi attention.

But never fear, because Alex has found a way of turning this horrific situation into a great thing, judging by his Twitter page from yesterday, where he gallantly posted how ‘Soliders are dying in Afghanistan, but where is our freedom?’ – 36 times. Hero much?

This really puts into perspective that time Denise Van Outen used her Twitter account to call Natalie Cassidy a terrible mother, doesn’t it?

So, on this one occasion, it really has been made clear, that sometimes love can just be about the stolen moments between two lost souls at a TV Quick Awards after-brothel. So put that in your cynical pipe and enjoy your cynical cancer, cynics.

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Hey everyone, you massive pile of galahs! Pandre Peter Pandre Andre here, and I’ve been given just enough time by the scummy hoardes at hecklerspray to give something back to you, the people.

That’s what I’m all about now. Giving something back. You may have seen my new show on ITV2, that I don’t like to talk about, Here 2 Help? That’s all about me giving something back as well, to people who are so pathetic and downtrodden that just me giving them one of my special Pandre hugs and lobbing half a ballad at them makes them rise up and walk like Lazarus.

But I don’t like to talk about that show, that’s on every other hour on ITV2. Or talk about how much I love my kids, because I really love my kids. I just want to give some more things back… like tell you how to get a woman to date you!

Yeah, even you, sadsack with the flabby man-tits and the suspicious downstairs itch and 14 different tabs all open on RedTube!

Just follow the patented method I invented which I used to get my big strong Aussie hands on Stacey Solomon, outlined in the Sunday red-tops after I rang myself and left precise instructions on my own voicemail just so I wouldn’t forget or something, and you’ll be swatting them off faster than you can count to the highest chart position of Insania (3, but I don’t like to talk about it).

First, pick your target. If you’re too busy being on TV (Here 2 Help, ITV2, on right now unless American Idol’s on) or loving your kids to find someone yourself, just get your management company to open this week’s copy of Heat at random and point to the first female under 50 that they see. That’s the girl for you, guy!

Unless it’s Stacey Solomon, because she’s mine, and if you go near her, I’ll cut you, no matter how much I love my kids.
Second, play it cool. Just casually announce in an interview or two that you think Stacey Solomon is amazing, and you really want to take Stacey Solomon to Bella Pasta and treat her real nice, and make sure you write in your trashy magazine column about how your life is no more than a pointless dive into a screaming abyss of depression and loneliness because Stacey Solomon is not by your side. Remember: girls love being complimented, and the more deranged the fashion, the better!

Third, why not invite her to your kid’s birthday party? (Wow, don’t you love your kids? I know I do, but I don’t like to talk about it) Because nothing says sexy like licking icing from a Finding Nemo cake off your fingers and pointing your crotch at Stacey Solomon while she glumly clings to her boyfriend and tries to hide from the TV cameras from your reality show to the soundtrack of 100 ignored and hyperactive kids pinning down a bedraggled and underpaid clown and kicking his face apart! (Yeah, don’t worry if she has a boyfriend, mate. Boyfriend isn’t in Peter Andre’s dictionary. I had to cross it out so I could write “giving” in there twice.)

And lastly, the killer blow. Bombard her with texts and phone calls and beg her for a date. Don’t take “I don’t want to come to your child’s birthday party”, “I’m engaged to someone else” and “If you contact me again I’m calling the police” for an answer. Desperation smells even more potent than my latest album, Accelerate, drenched in Lynx Africa!

That’s it. Easy! Good luck, mate. It’s definitely going to work for me. Watch out for my new series, “Pe-tacey: Jungle Loving” starting next month on ITV2!

Note for lawyers: this article was shoved under the door of the hecklerspray bedsit and was almost certainly not written by Peter Andre. We don’t think he’s got any crayons in that colour.

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You really think you have the energy to hear this? Sure about that, are we? Let’s just take this slow, just in case. Let’s not get lodged inside something dark and unyielding and then regret it afterwards (Extract from Antony Costa’s Bedroom Memoirs, 2008) So. Katie Price has written another book.

You should know the drill by now, because of that time you accidently walked into a Newsagents and bought Heat Magazine regularly for two years. Just in case you don’t – here’s the situation we’re facing. After having had some sex with Dane Bowers, Peter Andre, Katie Waissel, and most recently a hired homosexual gentleman – Katie Price’s career as a businesswoman was for some reason being somewhat overlooked. It was then that Katie discovered her greatest talent – ringing someone up and asking them to write a book for her. A great author was born (but that’s not relevant).

Today saw the launch of Katie’s latest literary delight in the shape of ‘The Comeback Girl’. A story about something, or other. Pssh. Bloody pretentious Pulitzer fodder, if you ask us.

On top of all this, during the event at the 02 Academy in Leeds, Katie decided to give the world yet ANOTHER blessing, by staging a world record attempt to sign as many books as possible in eight hours, like her hero – chess extraordinaire and all round DD+ glamour-puss Anatoly Karpov. Unfortunately, we can reveal that Katie’s attempt was unsuccessful. The bright side is that we we can all focus on the content of the novel now, which is clearly what Katie wanted all along.

Besides, as Yazz once concluded – The Only Way is Up. Based on this logic, and this logic alone – we forecast bright things in the future for Katie. Oh wait, The Only Way is Essex now, isn’t it? Never mind. Katie’s talents will shine through regardless. And if you are unlucky enough to not possess the shining beacon of optimism that we uphold every single day, then take a look at some of these quotes from an interview in today’s Sun about Katie’s next chosen career path instead:

“I’d love to be a detective. I’m obsessed with Harold Shipman, Dennis Nilsen, Ted Bundy and Rose and Fred West, I’ve read about them in detail – really sick, true crime.”

“I’d like to go to a murder scene and try to work out what’s happened. I actually looked into how to be a detective once, but you have to join the police first.”

“Last night I stayed up late watching 24 Hours In A&E. I suppose it all makes me feel better about my own life.”

“For now, I’ll make do with making a TV series interviewing Britain’s worst criminals.”

Goodnight, and god bless.

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Kerry Katona’s mum has told our all-time favourite Sunday tabloid ‘The Star on Sunday’ that she is going to help get her daughter’s life back on track after Kerry was dropped from her management last month.

And how is good ol’ Sue Katona going to achieve this? By encouraging Kerry to text ‘saucy messages’ to her ex. Not the Mark Croft one, the one that we cared about even less. Go mum!

“Sue has very much taken the reigns now and is determined to stop her spiralling out of control like she has so often in the past” ‘A source’ told The Star on Sunday. Because in a week of such a degree of illegitimate journalism, we just want to be honest with you.

Meanwhile, in her latest chapter of ‘The New Me’ Volume 16, The Daily Mail reported today that Kerry Katona has taken up Zumba lessons. You hear that, cruel world? Kerry has defeated you.

But just like all those shocking times before, these glorifying comebacks have somewhere down the line faltered, despite all the odds, and haircuts, and AA meetings.

So come gather round on the carpet, and let’s all have a look back at Kerry’s previous career decisions and try and decipher how it all went wrong. As a nation. Let’s do it for Kerry, guys.

2002: Kerry Katona has sex and babies with Brian McFadden

WHY IT COULD HAVE SUCCEEDED

It was only a matter of time before the managers of Atomic Kitten came to the realization that they had legitimately given Kerry Katona a job as a ‘singer’. There was only one thing to do! Fuse her popstar credentials by marrying another. Step forward Brian McFadden! (Pre-rape music years) Being all blonde, and apparently attractive, the pair were the perfect match, and married in 2002. And the best bit of it all? Kerry gets knocked up, and therefore has to leave Atomic Kitten to ‘be with her children’, before they could sack her for being categorically awful, which ultimately is a much better headline. As such, Kerry Katona’s appearance in Atomic Kitten’s Whole Again video was hastily altered to be digitally replaced by newcomer Jenny Frost. So nothing but class all round. Since the marriage, Kerry joined and subsequently won I’m a Celebrity, Get me Out of Here. During the final of her victory, her doting husband appeared to surprise her. ‘Why are you here?’ Kerry asked. ‘Because I love you.’ Brian guessed.

BUT WHY IT DID ULTIMATELY FAIL

The problem with getting married is that somewhere down the line you have to probably love each other for the marriage to work. In 2004, the couple figured it was probably a good point well made, and tragically split. As if it wasn’t bad enough that Brian then subsequently married the Most Boring Australian Import Delta Goodrem, Kerry resorted to her second bout of reality tv, My Fair Kerry, which was just as awful as it possibly sounded.

2007: Kerry signs every single contract that MTV care to waggle in front of her.

WHY IT COULD HAVE SUCCEEDED

For unfathomable reasons, ITV are always very welcoming to let Kerry Katona be on television whenever she wants – but in 2007, Kerry was offered a lucrative contract deal at MTV with three reality shows, Kerry Katona: Crazy in Love, Kerry Katona: Whole Again, and most controversially of all – Kerry Katona: WHAT’S THE PROBLEM? So for the sake of her career, and her children – Kerry did what she had to do. Gallantly allow herself to be filmed 24 hours a day, eating Mcflurries. Oh sorry, that’s offensive. Eating Iceland’s brand vanilla ice cream, of course. Sorry Kez.

BUT WHY IT DID ULTIMATELY FAIL

Because she was married to Mark Croft at the time.

2008: Kerry writes her first novel!

WHY IT COULD HAVE SUCCEEDED

If JK Rowling can do it, so can Kerry! RIGHT? Because like JK Rowling, Kerry has been at the bottom. Because like JK Rowling, Kerry is a strong, confident woman, who just wants her children to have the best life they can. Because like JK Rowling, Kerry has a vibrant mind, with incredibly unique literary ideas. And her name is Fanny Blake. What – you didn’t expect Kerry to actually write the books, did you?

BUT WHY IT DID ULTIMATELY FAIL

In a nationwide poll last year, the book that people most lied about having read was George Orwell’s classic 1984. This was a book that nobody wanted to lie about having read, let alone read. In fact, people lied that they couldn’t read at all just to get out of it.

2011: Kerry loses loads of weight and cuts her hair and dumps Max Clifford, and dumps her boyfriend, and wears a nice dress, and takes up Zumba!!!!!

WHY IT COULD HAVE SUCCEEDED

Because those Now Magazine Before/After features won’t write themselves.

BUT WHY IT DID ULTIMATELY FAIL

Because at the end of it all, she was still Kerry Katona.

This was a post written by Sophie Hall who is already testing the patience of everyone within a 8,000 mile radius, which means we’ll probably hire her after she completes our depraved initiation ritual.

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In an ouroboros circle of narcissism that’s going to be the reason the universe implodes in on itself in 2012, Katie Price has been spotted with ankle ink that would appear to mark the date she met her latest boyfriend. Which would be fine. Except she’s been dating this latest guy for all of three months and change.

Katie and boyfriend-of-the week, Leandro Penna, have been spending time together since February. This February. The February during which everyone else was getting knocked-up or getting married.

Okay, okay. Maybe meeting and instantly falling in love with some bloke she just tripped over in the street is the lesser of those evils. So long as her womb stays empty and she doesn’t sprint down the aisle again, we’re not going to fight her on this one.

We’re just genuinely perplexed by the logic behind a tattoo of the date she met Leo, when that date was only weeks ago. Unless she’s got negligible short term memory and she’s inking herself in a Memento-style effort to keep track of whom she’s bedding, it’s a touch redundant.

Even if the ink’s temporary, which it could be, it’s still stupid.

As well as staging pictures with her new boyfriend, poolside in Marbella, prominently displaying ‘Leo 27-02-11’, the couple is starting fake engagement rumours too.

During a book signing in early May, Katie wore an enormous diamond ring on her engagement finger. Not the middle finger, which, given the insult to people’s intelligence, would have been more fitting. Pictures showed Katie holding up copies of her latest poorly-penned and probably ghostwritten book, making sure to showcase a ring she likely bought herself.

It’s pretty headache-inducingly hackneyed at this point. And it’s always a convoluted misstep before she marries whichever virtual stranger.

Wait, do we hear wedding bells? Oh no!

This was a guest post by Amy Grindhouse, so three stinkin’ cheers for that.

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If the borders of reality and literature were to ever blur by magic and represent members of society, then Peter Andre would be the human equivalent of the Mr. Happy character from the Mr. Men books. You can’t pick up a trashy 67p magazine without seeing the ex husband of Katie Price and general lousy pop star slapped across it.

Over on ITV where the bosses are keen to fill their airtime with any old tosh, Andre has been given his own show where he shunts his children around, showing what an adoring parent he is.

Tears literally roll down our cheeks everytime we watch, but we get the impression that the footage will be used as evidence to show he’s be a more responsible parent than Katie Price who spends her time running over horses. When Peter Andre isn’t kissing bot-bot to the camera, he supposedly has a day job as a singer. Tragically, he’s in demand.

If you’re a performer who has a fan base who’d literally jump through burning hoops to see their idol, it doesn’t matter if you announce tour dates two weeks or even a year in advance. People will buy tickets on mass and treasure them until the big night arrives. Looking at people like Rihanna, Take That or even the late Michael Jackson, those who want to go to a gig will travel far and wide for the spectacle.

We can only assume that Peter Andre is using the same model for his live shows. In actual fact, it came as a surprise to us that Peter Andre has enough followers who pester him enough to divulge in touring information. His Twitter feed must have been full of the same messages and mail sacks must have spilled over the floor of his home as fans desperately pleaded with the Mysterious Girl singer to tell them his tour plans. Taking to magazine column which doubles as a Peter Andre PR board, he said:

“People have been asking if I’m planning to tour again, and I’m pleased to say the answer is yes.”

Adding:

“Dates and venues haven’t been confirmed, but it looks like I’ll be on the road around January.”

January? We can’t fucking wait January to see a mediocre pub singer wheezing his way through a half hour set against a backing track. Before you start constructing effigies of Peter Andre to burn for making us wait till 2012, fear not, he is planning some summer festival action. So where will he be heading? Down to Glastonbury with all the hipsters? How about Glade to do a secret nosebleed Gabba set? Or perhaps he wants to literally take it easy at The Big Chill? No, his stage is much bigger; Andre broke the news again by saying:

“He couldn’t wait” to perform at summer festivals, including gigs at Kempton Park Racecourse and the Isle of Man’s Bay Festival.”

We imagine his slot will be perfectly timed between the donkey ride ending and the finger painting event getting set up by the festivals organisers.

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