DON’T PANIC EVERYONE! Frankie from The Saturdays has been found alive and well! Go back about your business.

The World was left in a state of shock when The Saturdays pitched up on London’s Oxford Street to turn on the Christmas lights, only to find that Frankie (the one people know the name of) wasn’t there.

It turns out that the former S Club Juniors singer was just feeling a bit poorly, so wasn’t able to join her band mates when they officially started Christmas on Tuesday evening.

Rumours circulated that the singer must have been kidnapped as part of a terrorist plot to derail the musical behemoth that is The Saturdays. The plan came about when senior Al-Qaeda leaders discovered documentary evidence that suggested that The Saturdays, the most powerful pop group in the West, are unable to defend the country in their giant fighting robots, which can merge together to form a giant mechanical monster, when they are not all together.

Hold on, we may have confused the Saturdays with the Power Rangers for a minute.

No, Frankie just wasn’t feeling well and apparently wasn’t up to the task of standing on a stage with 4 other people to do a single synchronised movement, despite the fact that this has formed the basis of her career to date.

Now that she’s back, The Saturdays can resume being the biggest pop band in Britain that is still yet to have had any semblance of commercial success outside of an ad campaign or a copy of Now! magazine.

Although, thinking about it, we can’t help but feel that if The Saturdays did actually become Power Rangers, they’d probably be a bit more successful and we might actually care whether or not one of them was too ill to flick a bloody switch on Oxford Street.

Oh well, at least we now know how many Saturdays it takes to switch on a light bulb. If only we could remember their names.

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Alice Cooper is just great isn’t he? He’s the old dame of rock ‘n’ roll, pissing about with snakes, guillotines and fake blood, all the while, churning out goth-pop and stadium horror rock with a cheeky glint in his eye.

He takes his work about as seriously as hecklerspray takes writing.

Yet somehow, despite the Iggy Stooge shock-tactics and releasing LPs that come in schoolgirl knickers, he’s become a hugely famous star. Your mum probably likes some of his tunes. And so, you should have a nice family day-out to his UK Halloween shows which, in fairness, look like they’re going to be one gigantic laughathon. With cobwebs. However, Alice Cooper needs you… if you’re a freakshow of a human that is.

So why are we doing appeals for Alice Cooper? Well, this is a naked, unashamed attempt to get free tickets for his show. We write words and hopefully, we get to see Alice and his band, alongside the New York Dolls and potentially The Crazy World Of Arthur Brown.

There’s an intimate gig where Cooper will take his ghoulish pop to the 100 Club on June 26th. That’ll be a good gig for Cooperites. However, it’s the big-ass tour in Autumn that will be the shows to catch.

In October, he’ll roll out ‘Alice Cooper’s Halloween Night Of Fear’ to promote new LP ‘Welcome 2 My Nightmare’, which is nice and all, but we just want to hear ‘Under My Wheels’, ‘Poison’ and all the hits. Sorry Alice, you know how it works.

Alice says:

“This show comes with a health warning – We don’t do acoustic, this will be loud.”

Being a Detroit kid, we should bloody well think so. So where do you come in? Well, Alice is calling together the depraved weirdos and fire breathing loons to star in his show. He’s holding auditions for freaks to gross out everyone.

Says Alice:

“It takes a lot to shock me, but last year even my stomach was churning, Britain really has got freaks. That’s what’s Halloween is all about. It’s my favourite time of the year, bring on the gore!”

Auditions are June 27th in London’s Hyde park. Go to alicecooper.com to find out about it all. You’ve got ’til June 22nd. Start making people puke with glee. It is your duty.

Now, here are the tour dates. Can we have some free tickets now? Thanks.

Tour Dates

JUNE 2011

SUNDAY 26 LONDON 100 CLUB – Doors 7pm

OCTOBER 2011

TUESDAY 25 SHEFFIELD CITY HALL

WEDNESDAY 26 BRISTOL COLSTON HALL

THURSDAY 27 BIRMINGHAM NIA

SATURDAY 29 LONDON ALEXANDRA PALACE

SUNDAY 30 02 APOLLO MANCHESTER

MONDAY 31 GLASGOW CLYDE AUDITORIUM

Tickets go on sale 9am on Friday 17th June 2011 and should cost around £35.

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Badvertising likes nothing better than seeing the breakdown of an advertising executive portrayed through their adverts. It heartens us to see people so devoid of creative talent making adverts which are actually supposed to be designed to sell a service but leave the target audience feeling more bemused than Lindsay Lohan’s gynaecologist. The world needs more confused, off-message advertising but it won’t get it. Why, you ask? Oh… you didn’t…

The advertising world is filled with people so nefariously clever that they can make you suddenly decide that you need something you’ve previously never even considered, just by the power of suggestion through a stupid combination of words and moving images.

Sometimes it won’t hit you for weeks or even months but rest assured that it will hit you. One minute you’re in the queue at the post office and BANG! Next minute, you’ve bought a Saab and have no recollection of how you got to the showroom or paid for the thing.

On the whole, it’s the same deal with comparison websites and hotel services.

You won’t think you’re being coerced due to the fact that you’re not parting with any money but thinking about Money Supermarket or any of these things has been placed in your mind.

You didn’t pluck that out of nowhere. Google rankings? Advertising. SEO? Advertising. It’s all there and it’s all designed to get your money or your clicks- whichever the business deals in.

Hotel finders are much the same animal only looking at this, you’ll wish they weren’t.

This is Hotel Derek from Hotels Direct. We’ll deal with the elephant in the room first, shall we? Hotel Derek is so-called because it sounds a little bit like Hotels Direct. If we hadn’t dealt with that one first, we might all have missed the point of the advert. Hotel Derek is a superhero; something which should be abundantly clear from his catchy superhero name and penchant for wanton acts of criminal damage.

The couple in the advert are going to London. They’re from the North so this is clearly the closest that they’re ever going to get to leaving the country and seeing some culture. Going from a world of smoke-stacks and lung disease to the greener pastures of ‘That London’ must be so exciting that they decided to mention the fact that they’re going to London every time they speak to one another.

You see, these people don’t seem to be able to afford to go on many trips. Hence her asking if they can afford a certain hotel so why would she feel the need to mention London every time. Is it because the script demanded it in order to shoehorn the idea of their ‘big trip’ into a 30 second advertisement. Probably. Either way, it’s still more annoying that waking up to find a choking coal miner in your bed.

The guy doesn’t care. Guys in adverts never do. A woman is speaking, why should he listen?

That is until Hotel Derek, the latest in a long line of humiliated failed actors comes bursting through the wall. Quite literally through the wall. Despite there being a door just to his left- he bursts through the wall. Criminal damage. Phone the police? No. He’s dressed up as a lime green superhero complete with nut-hugging spandex. He’s bound to actually be a hotel-touting superhero as opposed to just a nutjob in a cape, right?

Wrong, apparently.

After zipping around the furniture, speaking to them as though they’re floating detritus that he picked off his boot the last time he was shooting up in a sewer, Hotel Derek decides to launch them into the air towards London. Aside from being impossible, it’s also assault and, assuming they don’t live in a house with no ceilings or roof, yet more criminal damage. They’re saving a bundle on their holiday but the cost of fixing their house is going to be astronomical.

Dialogue again and of course, Hotel Derek does it Hotels Direct. So confused and ill-thought out is this advert that the writer clearly felt the need to have him say it twice in a 7 second period just in case people didn’t quite understand what the advert was about or why an Eton-educated superhero would be firing people into hotels, completely avoiding the check-in process.

It beggars belief. Of course not all adverts miss their message quite so spectacularly but when they do, the results make the brand and the advertising company look so idiotic that they might as well have done the advert themselves dressed up like Jabba the Hutt on a unicycle while crying.

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It appears as if 23-year-old, London born singer Adele has the Midas touch at the moment. Her album has been at number one for so long that it saw off both the end of the world and Cheryl Cole’s US X-Factor career. She’s performed at the Brits to universal acclaim and she’s captured the hearts and minds of both sides of the Atlantic.

But turning everything you touch to gold isn’t so great when the Tax man comes knocking it seems.

Adele has kicked up a right storm, after whining about the fact that she had to pay around £4,000,000 in tax after the runaway success of her debut album, 19, in formerly relevant music mag, Q. She said that:

“When I got my tax bill in from 19, I was ready to go and buy a gun and randomly open fire.”

Which is a lovely sentiment. Although the worrying thing is that, being from Tottenham, she could probably get her hands on a gun pretty quickly, if those bastards at Revenue and Customs didn’t keep taking all her money that is.

And what are Cameron and Clegg going to do with this massive windfall anyway, well, if you ask Adele, nothing that’s going to make her life any easier:

“I can’t use public transport any more. Trains are always late, most state schools are shit, and I’ve gotta give you, like, four million quid – are you having a laugh?”

Of course they aren’t having a laugh Adele. They’re the Government; they don’t know how to laugh.

£4,000,000 is a ludicrous amount of money for the UK Government to be demanding though, after all, how is Adele meant to dine on nothing but the finest beluga caviar or quaff the finest Champagne’s money can buy… or buy several million kebabs and a bottle of Lambrini from Abra Kebabra?

The answer is with the other £4,000,000 that was left untouched by HMRC.

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Robocop was, in a way, the original plastic police officer, except he was made of metal and could actually arrest people, unlike his real life counterparts.

Made from the parts of an old police officer who was brutally murdered by Red Foreman from That 70s Show and scraps of metal collected from a dumpster out the back of the General Motors warehouse, Robocop kicked crimes ass all over Detroit.

People loved Robocop because he stood for law and order, by any means necessary. He was also near indestructible and made an awesome whirring sound whenever he moved, plus he had a massive gun and if there’s one things American’s love, it’s a hero with a miniature cannon strapped to them at all times.

The people of Detroit, and by people we mean geeks, wanted their metallic hero immortalised in… erm… metal, in the form of a statue. After all, Philadelphia has a Rocky statue, so why not reward another fictional character from the 80s who’s no longer relevant by making a permanent shrine to them.

The Mayor of Detroit, Dave Bing, received a tweet asking for him to put a statue of Robocop somewhere in the city to boost morale. After Bing had finished laughing he rather predictably put the kybosh on the whole thing.

This angered the geeks, who did what they do best when someone tells them they can’t do something. They took to the internet.

Rather incredibly the campaign was a hit, resulting in both a plot of land being donated for the statue to be built on as well as the sum of $56,000 being raised for the statue itself, smashing the $50,000 target.

So it looks like Robocop will have his own statue built in Detroit, conveniently just in time for the new Robocop film that is due to come out in 2013, not that that has anything to do with it you understand, it’s all just a massive coincidence… maybe… probably… not.

We here at hecklerspray aren’t against the statue per se. Actually, that’s a lie, we are. It is completely stupid to try and create a landmark to a fictional character, unless they’re considered to be some sort of deity. Think about it, in thousands of years, when the statue is found in the ruins of old Detroit, what will people think? They’ll think we’re buffoons, that what they’ll think.

A Robot policeman, honestly.

Besides, it’s plainly obvious for everyone to see that the people of Detroit chose the wrong character to immortalise. So the hecklerspray team has come up with a plan:

That’s right, let’s put a statue of ED-209 on the fourth plinth. Infinitely cooler, as trigger happy as the Met’s SO19 squad and hard as a coffin nail, he’ll really put London back on the map.

Suck on that, Detroit.

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

Right? RIGHT?

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

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

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

ROCKNFUGGINROLL!

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

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

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

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

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This is just a guess, but it seems fair to suggest that Beyonce has just suffered her worst day ever.

She’s been in a car crash. According to reports, Beyonce was getting out of her Mercedes in London this week when another car ploughed in out of nowhere and ripped its door from its hinges.

That’s not the worst part, though. The worst part is that a) Beyonce was going to Harrods and b) the other car was a black cab. So basically Beyonce’s day involved a terrifying car crash, a visit to the world’s most awful department store and a period of time spent listening to a self-righteous cockney cab driver drone on and on and on about himself. Honestly, it’s a miracle that she hasn’t flung herself off a bridge yet.

As one of the world’s biggest pop stars, Beyonce can be assured of a warm welcome wherever she goes. Unless she’s going to Malaysia, because they don’t approve of all her sexy clothes there. And apart from wherever it was that she smashed her face up on a staircase. But everywhere else she goes, Beyonce can be assured of a warm welcome.

Oh, and apart from London. Because London seems to go out of its way to give Beyonce the shittest time possible. This during a trip to London, Beyonce decided to go to Harrods, presumably because she enjoys visiting desperately ugly department stores that basically function as ridiculous low-rent tourist gift shops. But on the way there, she was almost killed by a taxi or something. Fox News reports:

The cab missed her by inches as it collided with the singer’s Mercedes. A source said: “It was terrifying to watch. It all happened so quickly, the taxi came out of nowhere. She seemed very shaken and was lucky to be alive. A couple of seconds difference and God knows what could have happened.”

Apparently the taxi came at Beyonce so fast that the door of her car was completely ripped off in the crash. But still, it was just an isolated incident and everybody involved is OK. And that means that Beyonce was able to go on to enjoy all the glorious spectacles of London life, like being bashed into by a million strangers on Oxford Street, spending an uncomfortably hot tube trip with her face wedged into a stranger’s sweaty armpit, breathing in the air until her nostrils became clogged with dirt and getting stabbed at by a teenager. Lucky old Beyonce.

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In a news nugget sure to change the very way we think about humanity itself, Lindsay Lohan has arrived in London to do some stuff.

Hold us back, this could be epoch-making.

Speculation has been mounting that the star of Herbie and, umm… hecklerspray has timed her arrival to coincide with that of former/current were-they-weren’t-they lover/pal/fanny chum Sam Ronson, who is in town to get paid to play a couple of records.

It’s called “DJing”, apparently. Ah well, at least it involves more talent than standing still and managing not to die while being photographed. For money. Which exactly what Lindsay is doing.

The conspiracy theorists don’t normally go to town on celebrity news, instead focusing on more important things like why the pyramids exist, how aviation fuel “doesn’t burn like that!!!?” or why Piers Morgan is allowed to carry on living.

This time, however, the paranoia is flying in from all angles with a plethora of conflicting reports, hearsay and general anarchy on the presses. It’s sure to be the end of the world as we know it.

It is possible people have just got a bit bored of talking about Robert Pattinson, they realised they don’t like Susan Boyle anymore and they discovered that (as we said) the Eminem/Bruno skit was indeed set up, so they have to fall back to some more generic celebrity news.

Either that or there’s been an attack of nostalgia on the part of all of those celebrity news outlets and they have collectively felt the need to report on a true classic of the gossip columns.

Why all the speculation? Well probably because there isn’t a whole lot to go on with regards to this story – Lindsay Lohan has arrived in the UK a day or two after her possibly-though-maybe-not-anymore-if-she-ever-was-to-begin-with girlfriend Sam Ronson, and is scheduled to make appearances in similar places at similar times.

The most astonishing facts from the story popped up in The Mirror though, with the paper reporting:

“While she was on the Eurostar, LiLo took pictures on her mobile phone of her with her fingers in her mouth, looking all worried.”

Truly mind-blowing stuff.

But hey, it’s not like people haven’t always followed their other halves around – we managed to alienate one whole girl from our lives by relentlessly following her for three years solid. It would have been fine, but we’re not one person, we’re an amalgamated form of writers and critics, so it’s sure to spook anyone out.

Lindsay is only human though, and not an amorphous blob of biting cynicism, so she’s more than welcome to stalk her (possible) ex. Yes, human, and – if she is a bit of a mental stalker – definitely creepy with it.

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As Michael Jackson was born of his mother’s womb while filming a Pepsi commercial with his hair on fire, his main thought was probably about how he’d one day like to inflict that same pain onto his own child.

And now he finally will. As everybody who enjoys watching glittery skeletons dance all about already knows, MJ is having a series of big comeback gigs this summer – and he’s reportedly decided to use the opportunity to launch the career of his 12-year-old son Prince Michael I.

At this time last year Michael Jackson was just a guy who enjoyed dressing like a woman while applying makeup to his face in public Bahraini women’s bathrooms. An awful lot has changed since then, though. For instance he’s not in Bahrain right now. Another thing that’s changed is that people are once again willing to give him money. This is great news for all of his bleeding giraffes. With Jackson’s new found income its possible they can once again afford to scab properly.

This summer as Jackson plays at the London O2 Arena, over one million people will have seen his knees creek dozens of times while he tries unsuccessfully to slide his feet backwards in a smooth manner by the time of the final curtain call. One million is a huge number – and Jackson probably realises that. We said probably. That’s why he’s going to use that opportunity to launch his oldest son into the musical spotlight.

If what the Daily Star says is true, then:

“Pop legend Michael Jackson is set to introduce a surprise special guest at his first London show – his son Prince Michael I. The lad, 12, will make his stage debut at the O2 Arena after being hidden from the world for years. Jacko, 50, has covered his three children in blankets and masks for most of their lives. But he is set to unveil Prince Michael to the world as he carries on the Jackson showbiz family tradition.”

We can hear the conversation now – backstage Prince Michael I (PMI) will be enjoying a nice video game while his dad comes in winded for a costume change and says:

Jacko: Get out there son. It’s your turn.

PMI: Buuuut Daaaaad! I don’t wanna do the zombie dance!

Jacko: (changing his shirt) Just get out there and do the zombie!

PMI: I don’t wanna!

Jacko: (changing his pants) Fine, then no more alleged wine-filled sleepovers for you at other adult males’ houses.

Then PMI sulks to the stage and does the zombie dance, but the audience can tell his heart’s not in it.

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People of London, pin up your bunting! Roll out your barrels of Jesus Juice! Cover the eyes of your squeamish young! Michael Jackson’s coming to town!

And it’s all thanks to that sheik’s lawsuit that threatens to push Michael Jackson into permanent financial ruin. According to reports, Michael Jackson will fly to London next week to give his testimony in the case that literally everyone’s calling ‘about the millionth Michael Jackson lawsuit of the last couple of years, and certainly one of the most dreary’.

But you know what this means? This means that if Michael Jackson’s going to court then the old Michael Jackson lookalike used in the TV coverage of his child molestation trial will get some work that doesn’t involve starring in adverts about the dangers of being hit in the face with a firework or being a scarecrow for once! This must be the happiest day of that particular Michael Jackson impersonator’s life.

Michael Jackson has a special history with London. It’s London that usually gets chosen as the venue for Michael Jackson’s eternally-delayed comeback concert even though not a single person on the planet believes it’ll ever happen.

It was London where Michael Jackson gave his now iconic ‘three lines of We Are The World and a sharp exit‘ performance of 2006. And, most fondly of all, it was London where Michael Jackson was allegedly caught jumping around on a hotel bed dressed as Mickey Mouse accompanied by several children in Peter Pan costumes a few weeks after being acquitted of child molestation. Ah, the memories.

And now it’s been reported that Michael Jackson is due to return to London next week, although sadly for something that doesn’t conjure up as many bone-chilling mental images – his lawsuit.

Remember Sheikh Abdulla bin Hamad Al Khalifa, the man suing Michael Jackson because he apparently gave Michael Jackson millions of dollars and let him live in his house on the proviso that they made an album together? Well, he’s called Michael Jackson to court to defend himself, as Reuters reports:

Singer Michael Jackson plans to testify next week in a British court in a lawsuit brought against him by a Bahrain prince, Jackson’s lawyer said on Thursday. “Mister Jackson is intending to travel to this country…and will be available to give evidence to your lordship,” Jackson’s lawyer Robert Englehart told the British High Court in London. The singer is expected to take the witness stand on Monday.

Now, don’t get your hopes up. Michael Jackson has already tried to wriggle out of the court appearance once by claiming that he was too ill, and Monday is a long way off yet – in Michael Jackson’s world that’s enough time to catch six or seven new illnesses, to be hit with about 400 new lawsuits and for a large percentage of his face to slip away from his skull like a sort of gruesome melting icecap. His court appearance is nothing like a dead cert yet.

But Michael Jackson would be a fool not to come to London. Not only does the court need to hear his side of the argument – that he assumed everything the sheik lavished on him was a gift – but also, if he does lose the case and end up penniless, he’ll be nice and close to King’s Cross. And if he wants to rebuild his fortune anywhere, he’ll find that wanking off drunk businessmen in an alleyway for pennies is probably the best way to start.

Being Metallica must be great – you get to be in a metal band for 20-odd years, you get lots of money, you get to tour the world many times over and you get legions of devoted fans.

Oh, and you get to be complete and total prannocks about seemingly everything involving the internet, yet still somehow manage to maintain the credibility that would clearly be destroyed if you were any other musical act in the world. Things, they are strange.

For this time Metallica have decided that allowing people they have invited to listen to their new music to review it would be something of a cardinal sin. Possibly on a par with the holocaust, but we’re still waiting for a quote on that one.

It all began a few days ago when the band invited a number of music journalists to hear their new material, somewhere in London. These critics gorged their aural senses with the gravelly-voiced delights of James Hetfield and co. and returned to their respective abodes, fresh in the knowledge that they could freely impart their newfound wisdom to the fans of the world.

Unfortunately, these journos seemed to forget that to satiate the hunger of these waiting Metallica fans they would have to use the tool most hated by the band: the internet. In using this evil device – which was probably crafted by Satan no less – the information pertaining to the new album was uploaded onto a few blogs.

Good God, what were they thinking?!

It didn’t take too long for Metallica to get wind of this though, and soon enough they were out bullying the sites where reviews were hosted, forcing them to withdraw the offending articles.

Just as with the horror that was Napster and its ridiculous idea of a future where digital distribution could thrive, the tiny, underprivileged band managed to safeguard their music and their reputation once more.

So thank you, Metallica. Thank you for being so utterly, completely and totally insane. Thank you for hating technology, discouraging innovation and stamping down on all those far smaller than you. It makes us feel all warm and fuzzy inside to know that you’re still a bunch of tossers.

Britney Spears has been offered the chance to play nutjob Blanche DuBois in an upcoming London stage play of Tennessee Williams’ A Streetcar Named Desire.

You may be wondering why on earth anyone in their right mind would deem Britney Spears an appropriate figure to take on the role of one of America’s all time great femme fatales but, before you get carried away with that thought, just stop to consider a few things:

First of all, Blanche, as all over 50s and film students know, comes from a small town in Mississippi. And where does Britney come from? That’s right; a small town in Mississippi.

Blanche is eventually exposed as an alcoholic, and Britney too has been found out to be dependent on a drug or two .

And, as if that wasn't enough, later on in the story Blanche has a nervous breakdown and is shipped off to a mental hospital.

Not so sure about yourself anymore, are you dear reader? Suddenly it becomes all too apparent why someone might deem the girl suitable.

There is one potent misnomer though, which is that when Blanche looks upon the vicious, working-class, alpha-male that is Stanley Kowalski, she sees nothing but a hideous ‘ape’, and tries but fails to fight off his sexual advances. Whereas Britney…

A source close to the production said of Miss Spears:

"She has poise, timing and real flair. We’d wanted her for Blanche because even though she’s technically too young to play her, who else could embody this fallen southern belle so well? She’s living out the story, so to harness that on stage would be amazing for an audience to see – and cathartic for Britney too."

Maybe you’re right, Mr ‘close source to the production’, but perhaps instead of trying to find therapy in humiliating herself night after night in front of the boos and hisses of the baying-for-her-blood British theatre-going public, she could just have a lie down and a cup of tea?

It’s just a thought.

Read More – Britney Spears Gets Role In Play – Trans World News 

Madonna has said that she will not vote for Ken Livingston at the upcoming London Mayoral elections.

Madonna, as we all know, is a renegade – in both senses of the word.

Indeed, if you were to google the word 'renegade', the returning results would probably offer little more than a biog of her maverick career, alongside the likes of Jesse James, Billy the Kid and Mel Gibson.

What Madonna wants, Madonna gets. If Madonna wants a 'brown' baby, Madonna gets a 'brown' baby. If Madonna wants to speak on behalf of Jesus, then she will goddamn speak on behalf of Jesus. And if Madonna wants to post a video of herself inserting a crucifix into her vagina, then Madonna will, without a moment's hesitation, post a video of herself inserting a crucifix into her vagina (we seem to be having some trouble getting that last link to work, for some fictitious reason. You dirty bastards).

And if Madonna wants to emigrate to the UK and call the Mayor of London a commy-twat then, well, she'll do it, won't she? And she has. Talking to Q Magazine, she said:

"Will Ken Livingstone get my vote? No. The traffic in London is worse
than ever now. All Red Ken wants is roadworks going on everywhere."

Worse than ever? She's only been living there five minutes and suddenly she's an expert on the history of London's infrastructure!? Just another day in the life of a renegade, we suppose. But what exactly would Madonna do if she was in 'Red' Ken's shoes?

"I would make it so that young musicians, aspiring musicians, wouldn't have to pay the congestion charge or pay taxes. They would be exempt from those kind of things, so they would have more money to do other things." 

Wow! Madonna for Mayor! Madonna for Mayor! God, imagine that, what a wonderful world this would be! She'd certainly get our vote. But we're quite short-sighted when it comes to economics here at hecklerspray, and so – just to be on the safe side – we have run Madge's proposal past the pedantic ear of hecklerspray's senior economist, Samuel Long, who commented thus:

"If the 'Madonna Tax' was to come in to effect, then she would certainly have – in the initial few weeks, at least – the highest approval rating in living memory. But as the population of London wise up to the fact that all they need do to avoid paying taxes is buy themselves a cheap guitar and learn their first chord then, within a month, society as we know it would shut down entirely. The budget would be depleted to levels not seen since pre-1308. There would be inadequate funding for the dustmen and the police to sweep up the dirt and scum that would be violently erupting on the streets. Within two months women and children would be being raped willy-nilly, each and everyone of us would be praying to God to forgive us for ever listening to this heathen, and the Thames would be swimming with rotting Westfields and Fender Stratocasters. Basically, what I'm saying is that Ken Livingstone would have the last laugh."

God damn Samuel Long – he always ruins everything! First, he rejects Stuart Heritage's proposal of getting our own hecklerspray helicopter – our own hecklercopter to trawl the sky for up-to-the-minute celebrity news – just because 'we absolutely can't afford it' and that 'it's totally immoral to hover over Christina Aguilera's house trying to perve on her back-garden love making'.

He spoils all our fun. 

Still, he's probably right.

Read More – Red Ken won't get my vote – Madonna – The Press Association

It wasn't so long ago that we were banging on about Stars in our MySpace Trawl feature. Whilst we'd like to think that it inspired somebody to invest in their music, we couldn't be quite sure. No banners were on prominent display with slogans such as "Hecklerspray brought us here" and "honk if you like hecklerspray".

Still you can't have everything you want in life, but regardless of our own potential ego-boosting propaganda of this band not being recognised, the venue was still rammed to capacity. For those who had never been to the place before, it was a unique little venue. The theatre-style layout presented the perfect viewing platform from nearly every angle. Though if you wanted to be packed in close with your fellow gig-goer, the chance was still there.

After being stopped and hassled by security who had nothing better to do, we were able to enter the venue and walk straight in to support band Apostle Of Hustle's set. As they are on the same label as Stars, the style of the band wasn't that to dissimilar of who we'd came to see. This three-piece however had some unique quirky ideas of their own.

Looking they hadn't dressed for a week or so, there sound managed to combine a mix ranging from samba to indie to hints of electronica and post rock. Obviously ones not shy of mixing things up, they waltzed around the stage like they'd played there plenty of times before. The highlight of the set came when they presented a song written about former N.W.A member Easy E. This strange guitar-based ballad saw the drummer leave his sticks behind as he prepared to sit on a block of wood in the middle of the stage. Simply using his hands, he banged away as the other members played.

At roughly 9.30pm, Stars were finished setting up their various bits of equipment and graced the stage to huge whoops and cheers from the adoring audience. Now, it's always good when a band you like plays a song you really enjoy. So imagine our joy after they tuned up their instruments and kicked off the night with our favourite song Ageless Beauty from the album Set Yourself On Fire. We were quite overjoyed and fully expect to see Youtube footage appearing on the internet soon with our dog-like howls ruining the entire thing.

Whilst the band were on a tour to publicise copies of their newest album In Our Bedroom After The War they didn't forget about all of their other material and played a comfortable mix of songs from the current crop to the older and more obscure stuff. Each song went down a storm with the crowd and it was clear from the energy the crowd generated fed back to the band. They almost seemed overwhelmed with the response that they were getting and it wasn't until the final song of the evening – the title track from their newest album, that the looks of joy and happiness appeared on their faces.

Nothing could be faulted. Even the set-up on stage had its own unique little touch to it. Various lamps decorated the set and it gave the night an almost homely feel. The band were even giving things to the crowd in an almost panto style. Flowers were being thrown in to the audience throughout the night which we can only assume caused mini riots between various groups of girls as they fought for a free present.

Though true to the finale of a theatre production, every single flower should have been tossed back on to the stage to congratulate the band on an excellent performance.

They tried to make Amy Winehouse go to rehab, but she said n… oh, you've already heard that one. Never mind.

Anyway, thanks to the release of that video where Amy Winehouse appears to be inhaling every last atom of crack in the universe through a glass pipe after a mighty big drug binge, Amy's finally decided to get herself off to rehab for good.

True, Amy Winehouse does already have one unsuccessful rehab stint under her belt, but she's learnt her lesson with this rehab – this one's in central London and not on a private island, so she won't have to wait for a helicopter when she inevitably sacks it off and goes down the pub.

Amy Winehouse has something of a history with rehab. Rumour has it that one of her songs is about rehab – possibly Just Friends – plus after that time she nearly died from a drug overdose, Amy Winehouse went to rehab for about 35 minutes before she decided to run off home again.

But it seems as if Amy Winehouse's alternative method of treatment – fighting her husband with razorblades and then watching him go to jail – hasn't particularly done a lot of good, if that video apparently showing Amy Winehouse smoking crack after a cocaine, ecstasy and valium binge is anything to go by.

However, aside from pissing on our plans to open a £10,000-per-day razorblade-fighting rehabilitation centre for the next time Lindsay Lohan falls off the wagon, the crack video seems to have convinced Amy Winehouse to get proper long-term treatment, which is why she's just put herself into rehab, in the form of the London Capio Nightingale Hospital. CNN reports:

"Amy decided to enter the facility today after talks with her record label, management, family and doctors," the Universal Music Group said in a written statement. "She has come to understand that she requires specialist treatment to continue her ongoing recovery from drug addiction and prepare for her planned appearance at the Grammy Awards. … Amy entered the facility by mutual agreement and continues to receive the full support of all concerned."

Will this rehab stint be successful for Amy Winehouse? Well, that surely depends on why she's decided to go there. If Amy Winehouse has entered rehab for herself, to get cleaned up for good in professional medical surroundings, then there's a good chance her stay will help her a lot.

But if Amy is just doing it so that the police will get off her back and the American government will give her a visa for any US shows and isn't committed to her recovery, then chances are it won't work.

And if Amy Winehouse has just gone to rehab because it's a safe place to hide from Mary J Blige's annoying advice, then that's probably just fair enough.

Read more: 

Amy Winehouse going back to rehab - CNN