To be a successful female in modern America, you have to release records that are edgy, oozing with sex and somehow able to offend various subsections of society or else you’re just old fashioned.

Rihanna constantly tells us how she likes to engage in adult activities, Lady Gaga likes to dress up as meat and Beyonce likes to fake pregnancies (if the mentalist rumours are true). So where does Nicki Minaj fit in?

Some say she bypasses all of the above shock factors and does an alright job of reinventing female rap. Previously, Nicki Minaj upset America when her right boob popped out to say hello. Now conservative types will probably get into a fluster as she prepares to release new songs as a gender bender.

People have cottoned on to the fact that controversy sells. Frankie Cocozza will probably be offered a record deal based solely on his hair and the fact he has amazingly tall hair, drinks booze and wears jeans that are so skinny, they have begun to disappear up his own hole.

So what’s the story with Nicki Minaj?

Well, something posted on her website (since removed) said:

“Roman will be in rare form this time. You know why? Cuz he no longer gives a fuck. He realises that his core matters the most. Everyone else will figure it the fuck out. He can no longer be censored. That’s not Lewinsky on a$$. It’s Roman. He has 2 more weeks in boarding school. We’re going to pick him up now. When he lands, he will address the nation in the form of music. He will announce the date.”

Don’t worry if you can’t make head or tail of that. We’re here to help.

Basically, Nicki Minaj has an alter ego, gay BFF called Roman Zolanski. We’ve no idea how that’ll work though, and more to the point, Minaj has missed a trick.

Instead of creating a gay alter ego, we would have liked to see Nicki creating a character who was an actual Roman. Imagine him racing around in a golden chariot wearing nothing more than a leather studded loin cloth, beads of sweat dripping down his hard chiselled stomach, whipping the crapola out of his stallions and pounding out raps that seduce you into his mercy.

Honestly, why aren’t we creative consultants to anyone?

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Drake is one of the world’s most hyped rappers on the planet despite releasing lame song after lame song. And his latest album, Take Care, has been delayed, presumably because it’s so poor that it’s hiding under the stairs, surrounded by people trying to cajole it outside.

As a teaser for just how lame it is, a new song called Make Me Proud featuring Nicki Minaj, has been leaked.

Yes, you can hear it over the jump and yes, Drizzy (when will this ‘izzy/’eezy thing end?) showcases rap in the style of The Little Book Of Calm. Again.

Talking about his lame process of making wet songs, Drake says:

“Whenever I make songs surrounding women, I always try to find refreshing stances to take as opposed to just like, ‘Oh, you’re sexy’ or ‘Oh, I want you.’ The song, it really came up in passing conversation, just being like, ‘I’m proud of you’.”

“Not even necessarily that a woman has to go achieve grandiose things to be proud; it’s just that I’m proud of you for trying. It’s hard to be a woman out here these days, especially to be pretty and especially to be smart and want something for yourself. So I’m just proud of you whether it’s Nicki or any girl that I’ve ever known in my life that’s doing well for herself.”

Did you hear that? Did it make you puke?

This song actually states at one point that Drake is proud of a woman who has just had a shower. Seriously. He’s proud of womenfolk because they are able to stand under water for a short period. Astonishing.

He’s not finished being a huge drip either.

He’s pushed back the release date for Take Care to give him more time to clear some samples. Talking like a trainee priest, he says:

“I do apologize for the delay but I promise that it is only for the benefit of our experience together”

Christ. Anyway, listen to Make Me Proud and get the sick bucket ready.

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You. You’ve thought about dying. Of course you have. You’re a pathetic excuse for a human. Look at you. You’re an embarrassment compared to your friends with their careers, savings, mortgages and stupid pets.

Of course, they’re worthless and resentful as well. They know people doing even better than they are. And this continues all the way to the toppermost of the poppermost, where they tell us, it’s lonely at the top.

And so, the entire human race wants to die. And Nicki Minaj is expecting us to give two hoots about the fact that she wanted to die before she was famous because she’s foolish enough to think that fame will solve her demons. HAHAHA!

Before people started throwing money at her to buy new wigs and such, Nicki Minaj wasn’t having a very good time. She had a life much like the one we’re all currently loitering in.

And it was dark apparently.

*looks around*

Yep. It’s definitely dimmer than someone who is surrounded by neon lights spelling their name.

Nicki says:

“I kept having doors slammed on my face. I felt like nothing was working. I had moved out on my own, and here I was thinking I’d have to go home. It was one dead end after another.

“At one point, I was, like, ‘What would happen if I just didn’t wake up?’ That’s how I felt. Like maybe I should just take my life?”

And if she had, she would’ve been just another vaguely depressing statistic… but alas, we wouldn’t have heard of her, so we wouldn’t care a jot if she’d gone through with it. Sorry.

Alas, while us plebs deal with the fact that our suicide is less-newsworthy than skateboarding dogs and orangutan who have learned to smoke, Nicki’s now just fine.

“I will have put out five albums and will have an Oscar and Grammys. And I will be getting married and, a couple of years after that will have a bun in the oven… My whole life is about being Nicki Minaj now. It’s a never-ending saga.”

A never-ending saga that will end when she’s put our five albums and got married and junk. Great. Will nothing give mortals like us the will to carry on?

No. But here’s a video (we’ve previously shared) which will make you want to die.

No problem.

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How did people entertain themselves in the days before electricity was invented? Imagine life a trillion billion years ago when there was nothing on the planet apart from your fellow human and stupid animals. People actually had to use their brains to amuse themselves, urgh.

Caveman drawings have given a small glimpse into what our ancestors got up to, but there’s one activity that is as popular as it ever was, and it involves the humble nipple.

From self exploration of your own, to nipple twisting someone else’s to cause them pain, its fun for everyone involved. You’d assume that everybody would embrace their bodies and not become overly offended by something they already have. Think again morons, because over in America, the sight of a nipple causes a blazing uproar and during a recent performance for Good Morning America, Nicki Minaj offended everyone. And probably Jebus.

Why is America is so anti nipple, yet doesn’t have a problem with giving away firearms with every tenth purchase in burger joint? Unless Americans have a genetic modification that allows them to fire lasers from their chests and don’t want the world to know about it, then hiding your nips ain’t on.

But it got us thinking – are people just sexist about nipples when it comes to men and women? On the front of beefcake magazines such as Men’s Health, vain and muscular types flex their buff bodies whilst bongo magazines featuring topless housewives are confined to the top shelves which are impossible for us to reach.

But sex indeed sell and women are generally easier on the eye than men. And the very pleasing Nicki Minaj combines the ability of being a decent rapper (listen to her show stealing section in Kanye’s ‘Monster’) and the whole Being A Little Crazy when it comes to outfits which may reveal a little bit too much for some.

It’s because of these sexy outfits that America has requested a system where potential wardrobe malfunctions are combated thanks to a five second broadcast delay.

We assume this is after the unsavoury incident when Janet Jackson exposed her boob during the Superbowl. Of course, parent groups in America need something to complain about on a continual basis, and this is the perfect chance. Some boring person from one such group of meddling spoilsports commented:

“For the umpteenth time in recent memory a morning news show has included inappropriate content for children and families. Instead of asking for forgiveness, they need to stop apologizing and implement the five second delay that so many Americans have been calling for.”

If Nicki Minaj had scrawled something offensive on her bare chest like “Bomb Christianity” then maybe the people complaining would have more of an argument. But crying over a bit of nipple?

Idiots.

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Despite the music industry being in some kind of financial crisis, it doesn’t stop certain artists from flaunting their gargantuan wealth and having wardrobes that are more expensive than absolutely everything in Ireland and Greece combined.

And so, when we need to make an example of them, we try and throw the book at them right? Try and teach them a lesson for having the audacity to be massively successful.

With that, cartoon rap sensation Nicki Minaj has been fined for swearing her way through a performance at a Jamaican music festival. In Jamaica, they don’t like the swearing, but overtly homophobic dancehall records are just fine. So how much did the obscenely wealthy Minaj get slapped with?

If you happen to be internationally successful and cuss cuss your way through a performance, the cops will come and yell at you and demand you start handing over some of your hard earned pennies. A grand total of 1,000 Jamaican dollars! WOWEE! So how much is that in Sterling? Is it, like, a million quid?!

Try £6.90.

That’s right. If you want to deter an international superstar from misbehaving, you need to threaten them with fines that roughly equate to the price of a bottle of Buckfast. Or a 20 pack of smokes.

It goes without saying that the hitmaker completely ignored warnings about profanity fines at the Reggae Sumfest in Montego Bay and delivered swear after swear, safe in the knowledge that she could cover the cost with the money she loses down the back of her sofa.

So small is the amount, that Minaj just sent her lawyer along to court to settle the fine with a guilty plea, which they promptly did with the loose change in their suit pocket.

Next week: Jamaica threaten someone famous with a 30 second stretch in prison for shitting from a balcony on passers-by.

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Ryan Giggs may have won just about everything a footballer can win at club level, but really, what he most excels in is How To Balls Up A Brilliant Career By Completely Mismanaging A Scandal Surrounding Your Sex Life Forever And Ever.

So badly has Giggs played the whole injunction/Imogen Thomas thing, is that he’s now the new Barbra Streisand Effect, with everyone tittering at him for being such a colossal berk.

And weirdly, while no-one is actually supposed to be talking about him, thanks to the injunction still being in place, Imogen Thomas is apparently set to star in a musical about her affair with him, which surely contravenes all manner of laws. Still, at least Giggs isn’t trying to buy people’s silence again… wait? WHAT? AGAIN?

That’s right! It has been reported that Ryan Giggs is now offering his brother £250,000 so he doesn’t speak to the press about the fact his wife has been shagging him.

If you missed it, Gigg’s brother Rhodri had to pick his jaw off the floor when his wife, Natasha, sold her story to The News Of The World saying that she’d been having an affair with the Manchester United player for eight years! Hilariously, someone else reported that Ryan also tried it on with Natasha’s mother too!

And so, for £250,000, Rhodri has been asked to keep his mouth shut.

The poor shit has enough to deal with as it is now rumoured that Natasha has slept with at least three other Manchester United players.

Of course, this has left Ryan Giggs weighing up retirement, leaving his last game in a Manchester United shirt being the European Cup Final, where everyone looked at Giggs and thought ‘you tool, well done for disrupting your team’, before Barcelona handed their arses to them in a high hat.

A club source said:

“Concerns are growing. Sir Alex is willing to cut Ryan some slack and give him extra days off to clear his head.”

It’s emptying his head that got him in this mess in the first place.

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If the rumours about Ryan Giggs are true, then he’s a class act. For years, he appeared to be the model professional footballer, quietly going about his business and winning more trophies than is decent.

However, everyone (apart from sallow Man United fans) has forgotten all about that as his erect member appears to be the one firmly in the spotlight now. In fairness, it is shocking that a wealthy person misbehaves in their private life.

Hilariously though, the newest rumour (the previous one still has an injunction on it so we’ve no idea whether we can mention his reported sexual relations with Imogen Thomas or not… oh…) is better than the last as his sister in law is claiming that he’s been having it away with her, as well as a third woman. Morals aside, he’s not doing too badly for a man who looks like a hairy testicle merged with a wingnut in some horrible genetic splicing accident is he?

So, here’s the tittle and the tattle. Natasha Giggs, who is married to the footballer’s brother Rhodri, recently admitted that she had been getting her leg over with Ryan for the last eight years. Eight years! Zoinks!

And now, she’s saying that an anonymous woman has got in touch with her claiming that she was being wooed by Giggs at the same time as he was ALLEGEDLY putting things inside her and Imogen Thomas.

A source, who has probably met no-one relating to this story, says:

“Natasha got a call last week from a mystery woman saying she had been sleeping with Ryan. After the Imogen revelations it was too much. She thought she and Ryan had something special, only to find out she was just another girl.

“But now it’s dawning on her what she has done. She’s destroyed her marriage and her life is in ruins.”

The insider continued, despite having absolutely no authority on the subject:

“Natasha’s lost Rhodri and Ryan and feels very alone. She’s scared to show her face in Manchester. She made an emotional phone call to her mum on Sunday night, they were both upset and had a long talk. Nobody knows what the future holds, but it’s not looking pretty at the moment.”

This will be a kick in the teeth… well, more like a two-footed, studs-up lunge… for Ryan’s wife Stacey who had decided to forgive him for the Imogen Thomas thing. However, having it off with someone in the family is unforgivable right?

“Stacey decided to forgive Ryan after the Imogen claims because she thought he was entitled to make a mistake. But the whole Natasha thing is a completely different matter. Her family are saying she should kick Ryan out once and for all.”

It would appear that Giggs is looking at a life meeting his children on park benches, smelling of Breaker lager and dog-ends of Lambert and Butler cigarettes he’s found on the floor, crying at his forlorn offspring while they tug at his yellowing beard.

It’d make a great black-comedy. Someone write it because we can’t be arsed.

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We don’t know where we’re at with this stupid, pointless superinjunction story. Can we say THE PLAYER’s name now? Everyone else has been screaming it from the rooftops, yet some are still saying that the superinjunction is still in place and that we’ll be in trouble if we say it.

As we don’t really know what we’re allowed to say, we’ll just run two completely unrelated stories together in this one article, okay?

One involves the poor, desperate plight of former Big Brotherer and sex-tapist, Imogen Thomas. The other story involves Stacey Giggs, who is refusing to let her marriage be destroyed by outside forces. Okay? Good.

First up, media-martyr and cock-taker, Imogen Thomas. She’s not happy. She’s not happy one bit. All this attention is making her have a sadface. And we all know that sadface is bad, because it gives you wrinkles.

She’s weally weally sad, not because people are accusing her of blackmail (not us, hecklerlawyers), but rather, she’s had her wickle heart broken.

She said:

“Yes, I did know he was married. It did concern me. But it was never going to blossom into anything. I didn’t really think about it. I really couldn’t help it, to be honest. Feelings take over. I never thought that far ahead. All I knew was that I was just totally in love with this man. I never thought we would get married. That’s ridiculous.”

“I loved him and I couldn’t control how I was feeling, but I never asked him to leave. I know I’ve said before that I would never get involved with a married man – it’s a no-go.”

So what now for the sincere and emotionally devastated media thing?

Well, she’s resorted to carrying a rape alarm. That’s right. A rape alarm.

She added:

“[People] said they were going to stab my mum in the head, cut my face open and feed it to my little nephew, and also shoot him in the head. Then I’d have to go and watch him at his funeral, a ‘rest in peace’ kind of thing. I’ve got the police involved, because my family are at risk and this person knows where I live. I’m scared for my life.”

This is all awful, awful news, but at least Imogen found solace on a night out with Max Clifford who was only there for a good time and not in any way looking to exploit a situation for huge sums of money.

Still, it isn’t all champagne and kebabs.

“There have been points where I think, ‘What’s the point any more?’, because I am hated. I think I’m seen as an evil homewrecker. A slut. And a slag.”

Elsewhere, in news that has absolutely nothing to do with Imogen Thomas, Stacey Giggs’ fighting for her marriage and sanity.

For some unknown reason, Stacey is upset with her husband, Ryan. Who hasn’t done anything wrong from what we can gather. He’s just been running around on some grass and not much else.

Nevertheless, Stacey is upset with him (lawyers, this way if you please) and wants to stand by him, regardless of absolutely no wrong-doing.

She told ‘pals’:

‘Ryan’s made a mistake but I’ll stay with him’

Is she angry with him for footballing reasons? Could be, because in a weird twist of fate, she seems to be angry at one of the Barcelona players who shares the name of the Big Brother starlet we were talking about earlier!

Stacey’s apparently said:

‘I’m not prepared to let Imogen win.’

Sadly for you Stacey, Barcelona have already won the European Cup Final 3-1 and there’s nothing you can do about it. Just let it go. And don’t let your children buy an Imogen replica shirt.

Okay? Good.

Oh. And Imogen Thomas had an affair with Neville Southall. Look him up. She’s got a thing for Welsh lads, obviously.

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There’s been a lot of talk about a superinjunction this weekend, concerning a footballer who has allegedly been doing absolutely nothing wrong. In fact, what has happened is that the footballer in question has simply ceased to exist, with some theorising that he’s been raptured by God Almighty.

In a weekend that saw internet searches for a particular footballer rocketing through the roof, many have missed the fact that there was supposed to be a rapture this weekend, where God was to take some of the most goodly, evangelical Christians up to heaven, leaving the rest of us to sin ’til October (that’s when the End Of The World comes – so hurry up and get shagging and boozing).

However, thanks to the meddling press, God had to have a quick rethink and, as such, it would appear that he decided to take the footballer instead, leaving poor Imogen Thomas in some horrible legal limbo where she’s unable to use absolutely anyone’s name, ever again.

This is worrying news for Twitter. Initially, the footballer was suing the online social networking site for the breach of privacy (which is like suing a garden fence for the gossip that flies over it from chattering housewives), but instead, it seems that God will be taking up the case.

This is distressing news for all humans as God is a well-known tyrant, not averse to killing entire countries in one felled swoop. God is a proper, heartless bastard. Make no mistake about that.

Imogen Thomas, representing the rest of us (in the case now called: God Versus Humankind) is facing an uphill battle of epic proportions. She’s now working out just how much crying she’ll need to do on This Morning in her attempts to defeat, not only God, but a footballer who no longer exists.

Before he ascended to heaven, the footballer said:

“                              ;                                          “

adding

“                 !                 ,                             ?                         .            ,                  ,                      !”

Meanwhile, God Almighty’s representative on Earth, David Icke, said:

“Obviously, thanks to legal proceedings, God can’t make a comment at this point. Obviously, he’s frustrated that the rapture couldn’t roll out as planned, but he wants to assure you all that he will be rescheduling his tour dates for the near future.

“He hopes you can respect his privacy at this tough time and he’ll be taking no further questions on the identity of the footballer who, as he’s sure you’re aware, no longer exists.”

Icke added further:

“Oh, and while I’m here, you just watch now. All those lizard bastards will reveal themselves and come October, you’ll see! I won’t be a laughing stock then, will I? No. No I won’t.”

And so, us humans are now left with a situation where no-one can even say the name of the raptured footballer, for fear of legal action or, worse still, God sending a lightning bolt straight through the tops of our skulls.

All that remains is to leave you with this piece of music.

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Before we even begin, what you’re about to read could well be the biggest crock of fibs you’ll ever read. And we don’t know where we stand legally on the whole thing. However, it is scurrilous rumour and that’ll do for us!

See, what happened over the weekend, should you have missed it, is that someone set up a twitter account and promptly spilled the beans on a bunch of super injunctions. Now, as hecklerspray has been hit with a couple of these lately, we can’t possibly verify which ones are true.

Okay lawyers?

The account – which you can stare at for yourself here – says loads of salacious stuff about some famous sorts. There’s one that says

“[FAMOUS TELEVISION PERSONALITY HERE] has an injunction preventing the publication or mention of intimate photographs of him and [REALLY FAMOUS WEALTHY WOMAN HERE].”

While another states:

“British comedian/actor [NAME HERE] is into BDSM and visits spanking establishments to engage in the whipping of women.”

The twitter account doesn’t censor the names out like we’ve done. We’re just chicken shit that someone will try and razz us for loads of money and our lawyers aren’t picking the phone up to us this morning, presumably because they’re also indulging in a spot of light bondage.

Either way, what’s so funny about all this, is that a dumb little twitter account is making a mockery of the British legal system and the very notion of these injunctions are getting piddled on from a great height.

MP John Hemming, who is compiling a report on super-injunctions, said:

“It shows the utter absurdity of what is being done in the courts. It ignores the way that modern communication works.”

“Normally these things are kept so that only a few people in North London know what is going on. But more recently people have been coming to my constituency surgery and telling me that they know who these people are.”

Aye John. Are you learning that the British media stretches out further than ‘North London’ as well?

A lawyer, who was willing to talk to the Daily Heil, said:

“Clearly the courts are coming second best here. The reality is if you go for one of these injunctions you paint a cross on your back as a target for every itinerant blogger and user of social media.”

So there you have it. Type in #superinjunction into twitter and see what everyone’s been saying using that hashtag. We’re off to have affairs on our partners in the hope that we get some notoriety out of the whole thing. Just don’t tell Andrew Marr.

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What happens when people convince a complete bozo that he’s a shaman and a poet? Well, in the case of Jim Morrison from The Doors, they repay you with cod-psychedelic twaddle, alcoholism, abuse, a death-wank in the bath and occasional flashes of the penis.

Great. He’s a real rock hero isn’t he? All brainless and sinew, just desperate to shock you with 6th form poetry and stinking leather trousers.

Of course, the only decent thing he ever did was to get his flaccid member out, because that’s just about the only honest thing he ever did in his faux-bohemian life… and now, thanks to a pardon, he may have never even done that, thereby, rendering him pointless.

See, Jimbo the Himbo’s notorious dick waggle at a gig saw him getting his beard yoinked by the long arm of the law. This of course, gives dowdy bores the chance to live vicariously through Jim while they sit statically in their houses feeling dangerous while listening to Morrison Hotel.

And now, hilariously, Jim received a posthumous pardon for his conviction over the whole Getting Your Old Chap Out During A Shoddy Concert.

The rest of The Doors, some of the squarest humans alive, have always insisted that Morrison never exposed his wang but rather, drunkenly teased the revellers with it, probably showing a bit of pube or something. Those who attended the show at the Dinner Key Auditorium in Miami in ’69 probably can’t remember in fairness. They’re probably still trying to work out whether the Soft Parade LP sounds like Elvis at his worst, only with added fauxetry about horses eyes and all that junk.

Of course, a real rock ‘n’ roller wouldn’t give the slightest shit about being convicted of indecent exposure, six months in jail and a $500 fine. It’s all good for the eventual fawning biopic isn’t it?

The governor  reviewing the case said that he was not convinced Morrison committed the crime. Or, if you like, he probably thought “Jeez. Does anyone even care either way? I’ll just shut those shrieking Doors fans up by a wave and a pardon. I’ve got real crimes like murder to deal with.’

Doors keyboardist Ray Manzarek, a man continually keen on hawking Morrison’s corpse around with him every chance he gets, said:

“You know what would really be nice? Florida is Jim’s home state. He’s a Florida boy. Wouldn’t it great if Florida could finally say, “Hey, native son, your name is cleared. We recognise you as a young American poet”.”

Jesus wept. Poet indeed! About the incident, Manzarek added:

“He taunted the audience, “I’m going to show you! I’m going to show it to you”. Then he took his shirt off, held it in front of him like a bullfighter’s cape, wiggled it around as if there was something going on behind it.”

Brilliant showmanship there, we can all agree, eh? Still, anything that distracts from his awful, awful lyrics and sub-standard blues bollocks that they were peddling at the time.

Feel free to assume that hecklerspray only listens to manufactured pop music in the comments.

What's the one thing better than constantly reading about the ridiculous, abnormally braindead custody squabble between Charlie Sheen and Denise Richards?

Why, watching it on TV! And that's exactly why Denise Richards has reached the genius decision to take part in a reality TV show all about her cack-brained efforts to make Charlie Sheen look as monumentally dimwitted as possible in public.

Best of all, there's nothing that Charlie Sheen can do about it.

OK, we told a bit of a lie in the headline there – Denise Richards isn't going to make the best TV show in history. That's because the best TV show in history would be a live, constantly-updated theatrical dramatisation of Denise Richards' brain acted out in real time as each thought happens. It'd be great, just like 24 but starring one mad woman in a chicken outfit trying to sing the love theme from Starship Troopers in the style of an uppity horse.

No. What's actually happening is that Denise Richards is making a reality TV show about her life instead. And her kids' lives. And Charlie Sheen isn't very happy about it. E! Online reports:

Another closed hearing pertaining to the duo's ongoing custody battle took place Tuesday, with reps for both exes declining to comment on what went down behind closed doors. Sheen arrived at the Los Angeles courthouse with his attorney, while Richards' legal camp participated by phone. But even though the public was shut out of this latest round, TMZ is reporting that, despite Sheen's objections, a court commissioner greenlighted Richards' plans for a reality show featuring her and Sheen's two daughters, 3-year-old Sam and 2-year-old Lola. 

That's fantastic – it's not like Denise Richards' film career is going anywhere, and this will give her a perfect opportunity to utilise her best assets; which are her absurd thought patterns – but we still have two big regrets here.

The first regret about the Denise Richards reality TV show is that it didn't start 14 months ago so we could have seen Denise hurl that laptop at a wheelchair-bound old lady, and the second is that Charlie Sheen's not going to be in it.

Because, as much fun as it'll be watching Denise Richards constantly muttering things like "Daddy doesn't love you, you know," and "Yes, that's a lovely drawing of a flower. It reminds me of that time your Daddy murdered a prostitute," it won't be a patch on what the show could be if Charlie Sheen co-starred as the angry, racially-confused ex-husband who constantly stood in the background screaming about what a sad jobless pig Denise Richards is and how funny it is that her mother's got cancer.

But we'll survive without it. Unless Denise Richards' reality TV show features clips of Blonde & Blonder. That's something we can do without.

Read more:

Charlie Can't Touch Denise's Reality? – E! Online