Every week it’s the same, nothing ever really changes. We come into the hecklerspray bedsit on a Monday morning, having been released to poison the outside world over the weekend, and find the same stinking pizza boxes, the same drained bottles of methylated spirits and the same greasy, ignominious faces staring at us across the room.

Our ‘colleagues’ as we laughingly refer to them are actually lawyers who, down on their luck after losing a Tax Evasion case, have rented out the far corner of the bedsit which is sometimes known as “The Fred West Wing”. They look ill. Lawyers always look ill.

Perhaps it’s the smell which is putting them off their writs. The festering stench of the opposite corner, marked out by a laminated card which- in odious Comic Sans- reads “POST”. It’s enough to make anyone sick to their stomach.

Of course, it’s not just the hideous odour of your letters that can make people sick to their stomach; sometimes we are responsible for sucking all the good humour out of a given situation. This week it was the turn of Robert Pattinson to feel our tepid wrath when we had a laugh at him for stating the bleeding obvious.

Why is it that some of you writer’s feel it’s ok to be mean and stupid about Robert Pattinson? He’s a nice guy and he’s a good actor, but you would rather corrupt us fans with lies and Bad stuff, will let me ask you this, who makes more money? who has more fan’s? not you that’s for sure, bye.

Whoa there Guene! Let’s not be so final here! Bye? Before we’ve even had a chance to retort? That’s like asking a barbed question in the House Of Commons and running away before the Prime Minister can give an answer. Yes… in this analogy, we’re the Prime Minister and you’re some git MP from out in the sticks. The only appropriate response is this: it’s not about the money. It’s about how cripplingly dull you come across in the media.

Which Pattinson wins hands down. Of course, it’s easy to see why you’d ignore his spine-shuddering mundanity when he’s… just… so… attractive. Look at his broody reptile eyes and his pasty-white, alabaster skin. It’s not just us that wants to lay him down among a field of corn either. Happy Sue wants to break off a piece of R-Pattz too:

Since all these millions of girls and women are crazy about Rob, whats your problem? Does it make any sense you run him down when we all adore him? You must be a man and don’t have any idea what women like. Maybe you should check on the Twilight Saga, do you read? See what women do like. Love them…

Do… you… read? Do you- and we’re picking on this for comic effect- read? Read it back, readers. Here’s Happy Sue hoisting the bloated corpse of the Twilight Saga up onto an imposing pedestal made out of faeces and pulped Dan Brown novels. If the Twilight Saga is indicative of what women like then all women must be necrophiliacs who have a sideline in bestiality.

All women are not like that. Some women, like Happy Sue, are. Pam on the other hand is on to us!

Come on, we all know this ignorant little twit’s opinion doesn’t matter. He has to justify his paycheck with this drivel.

Thanks to our self-aggrandising style, many of you may be sitting in front of your computers nodding along with her rousing call to arms. Who cares about hecklerspray’s opinion?! Those guys are nasty! Booooooo. Down with hecklerspray! To those people we suggest 20 minutes of vigorous sexual activity a paper shredder and those feelings will go away forever.

It’s Been Something Of A Stereotypical Week For Your Defective Correspondence. We’ve Gone From Robert Pattinson/Twihards To Idiots Who Type Like Their Entire Point Is A Title. Like Malinda here, who is apoplectic at our suggestion that Biebergeddon might finally be upon us

Okay Now, Look Ya Dumb B*tches!
This Is Ridicouls Bieber Is Amazing And People Love Him, Your Just Freaking Jealous. LOL! There’s No Way The WorldIs Gonna Go All Out Because Of Him, I Mean Yes, He’s Amazing And Wonderfull Gorgeous And Talented. But He’s Not Going Anywhere And Niether Are We!!! Beliebers Forever. And If YOU Have A Problem With It, Well Go Tell It To Someone Who Cares, Like Your Lonley Fat *ss Mom Who Has 3o Cats!

Thanks Malinda (:

Aww, isn’t that nice? He’s amazing, wonderful, talented and gorgeous but not quite amazing, wonderful, talented or gorgeous enough for people to start literally spontaneously combusting in front of our very eyes. What a shock. Then, of course, no-one cares about what we have to say. Remember the advice we gave you about a paper shredder? That.

Still, some of you got in touch to reveal some tragic personal details about yourselves. Like Sarah, who was delighted to see The Tumblr Trawler sink away into the briny depths, killing all hands:

Yay! Yes I am a sad individual. I’m ok with it though.

 So say we all!

Until next week, you sad, pathetic, excuses for human beings. Go and enjoy your 30 cats.

It’s Friday and the hecklerspray bedsit has breathed a collective sigh of relief as they’re allowed out into the world to live among functioning humans for a couple of days. Unfortunately, I’m still here as there are Readers’ Letters to be analysed. Still, it’s nice to have a bit of peace and quiet to work. No Mof Gimmers shouting about codpieces, no Sophie Hall shouting at Kris Wood for making a reclining chair out of sausage and no Euan L Davidson, breathing heavily in my ear.

Yes folks, Fridays are the nicest time to be in the bedsit. It’s easier to sit in “the clean chair” and the stale stench of discarded cigarettes and methylated spirits is beginning to lift. Unfortunately, that means that the foetid stench of the hecklerspray post bag is coming through loud and clear.

It stings the nostrils.

This week has seen some of our most preposterous correspondence to date. Even long-forgotten artists of yesteryear are getting a mention from the lobotomised dingbats that frequently troll their way through the site. What, you don’t believe me?

How about Justine Clark who got in touch to, and I’m not making this up, offer an opinion on Daniel Bedingfield, the artistic equivalent of a beige dining room:

You talk absolute crap re: Daniel Bedingfield in my opinion. His CD Gotta Get Thru This is totally amazing as far as I’m concerned. This is why art is so wonderful and the media is so crucifying. You annoy me immensly and if only you were that spider you so lovingly spoke about.

Art is wonderful, of course. Daniel Bedingfield’s artistic craft and vision is outmatched only by his sister, Thingy Bedingfield. Of course, it’s not just music that’s an art form.

Some people believe television is art, a sensory waltz for the pleasure of your eyes. That’s probably why people react so well to the colourful dribblings of the Tellytubbies or their grown-up version, Noel Fielding’s Luxury Comedy:

I can see why some people really wouldn’t enjoy this show. But personally, I thought it was brilliant. Haha. I adore Noel Fielding and his work, I always have. But what saddens me is that this show has been getting so many negative reviews.
What people need to really understand is that this show is NOT The Mighty Boosh. It never will be. Julian Barratt DOESN’T need to be in this show, because that would basically make it The Mighty Boosh.
Noel can be independent. Let him. Give the show a chance, guys. You’ve only seen one episode. Noel worked quite hard on it.

There we go folks. Artistic vision is not based on the worth or the quality of the finished piece, it’s based on how hard you work. We should have given Luxury Comedy more of a chance, of course. It was wrong of us to judge it on the strength of just one episode and we realise now that next week’s instalment of Carpet Badger’s Woodland Rainbow Experience will likely be one that pushes it into an entirely new realm of comedic existence.

Or it will continue to be pervasively shite for the rest of its run.

On the bright side at least, he’s not Brad Pitt who, according to this five year old article has a tiny penis. Mind you, that’s according to Juliette Lewis who doesn’t seem to have brilliant depth perception. Luckily, Brad has the world’s slowest rapid-response unit to stick up for his pecker.

A woman is more than acunt and a man is more thanacock. This is a very small woman with a need to talk down to a man she hates to admire. Bradly Pitt is a very BIG man where it counts most to be big. He has a big heart, a big bank account and lots of kids with very BIG love for their dad. Also, Brad’s wife respects him which places them both as close to Hollywoody as the planet Mars. Its a real tribute for them to come off as martians in Hollywood where no human thing lasts for long no matter what its size. And another thing about size… In Hollywood the size of a THING is closest to the hearts of men, only a man who loves women would care less about who is unimpressed with the size ofhisSHOE. Pisson HayawathaKuntababe who coulda shoulda woulda but wasn’t anything at all.

Decipher the nonsensical crap and that’s quite a pleasant comment. Men and women shouldn’t be judged on things that they can’t help. Although, not everyone shares the same opinion of people. Remember homophobic git-drip Diane Richardson from last week’s Readers’ Letters? Well, this week she’s back with one of the most sexually menacing comments we’ve ever had:

I am not a moron, i can lay on my bed and put a 14? dildo into my anus until its disappeared and you wont even see a flinch in my eye, can either of you to dipshits do that, the answer is NO !!
What planet are you guys living on, everyone knows that the deeper you can put something into your ass, the smarter you are, so you had better straighten up because i am obviously far superior to either of you.
As for you JOANNA, you probably couldnt even get your pinkie finger in your ass, thats how dumb you are…………Retard !!

Make sure you don’t puncture any vital organs while you’re doing that, Diane. Of course, the insertion of floppy, phallic objects into oneself is high on the agenda of one Paris Jackson, daughter of Michael. She’s pre-destined to have really kinky, unprotected sex with Justin Bieber, according to God. Naturally, the whine of pernicious cunts that call themselves Michael Jackson fans are furious about this biblical necessity:

Whoever wrote this article is a fucking dickhead! You have no respect for anyone whatsoever. Maybe your just jealous coz no one gives you the sex-eye you fuckwit. Excuse my language but you deserve it doochebag. RIP MJ. We love you man. I wish Paris the best in life. Not so much of a fan of Beiber but..whatever.

We also wish Paris the best in life. Perhaps she’ll have a child out of wedlock with young Bieber and it can grow up to be the second coming of Christ, given the religious following that both precocious brats have. Still, at least that was polite compared to DharmaRepublic’s effort, who decided to call us Nazis:

THIS IS MEANT TO A WEBSITE?..news?..entertainment??..or is it the Nazi guide to news….from a Christian perspective?

lol..

GROWN UP GOSSIP…lmAOooOOoo,….hahah

some people REALLY DO DELUDE THEMSELVES DONT THEY….like the creators of such errr…..Site .

This is definitely a website. The fact that it can be read on the internet should be the first clue. Of course, the Nazi guide to news wouldn’t have a Christian perspective, as such but given that DharmaRepublic laughs at their own “jokes” using the term “lmAOooOOoo”, it’s hardly surprising to see them not understanding that.

On the bright side, at least they’re not threatening us with physical violence. Unlike the inimitable Stefani, who was so upset about the Michael Jackson Glee episode that she threatened us with actual bodily harm.

WHAT THE FUCK WAS THIS FUCK ARTICLE ABOUT? STUPID ASSFUCKER IMMA KILL AND SMASH YO ASS AND EAT IT!

Given that the charming Stefani seems to believe that ‘assfucker’ is a biting insult, we’re surprised to see that she would be absolutely fine with eating the anus of our writer. Then again, Michael Jackson fans will do anything to imitate their spiritual leader Uri Geller.

That’s it for this week, folks. We hope you’ve enjoyed this sickening display of fatuousness and we’ll leave you with this:

I think this is a real great blog. Keep writing.

Just kidding, we’ll actually leave you with this:

Fuck you – you little tick terd. You’re a shithead like your buddy Stuart.

‘Til next week, you piss-stains.

When you’re in a position of note, it’s easy to get carried away and become an egotistical crack-shack. One need only look at Sting’s self-satisfied fizzog to see exactly what we mean.

Not everybody has it so easy once they’ve been elevated to a “status” – especially one they might not want. Who are we talking about? Why it’s none other than ol’ safe hands himself, ‘Sexy’ Dr. Conrad Murray. The man that, in the eyes of Michael Jackson fans, makes Harold Shipman look like a competent medical professional.

There’s a very good reason that whilst you’re reading this, Dr. Conrad Murray is being held in a prison somewhere. He was tried and convicted of manslaughter. Tsk tsk. Still, he’s looking forward to some time away from a depressing concrete cell. If he gets his way, you might be able to see him sooner rather than later!

Any medical textbook will tell you that if you give someone a bucket-load of industrial strength medication, it probably won’t make you feel overly chirpy in the morning. Then again, perhaps the people around him should have whispered “Michael, stop injecting yourself with that stuff and talking to your stuffed animals, they’re not real. Bubbles is gone.”

Even if Dr. Conrad Murray had been found innocent, the Jackson estate would have appealed the conviction, due to them worrying about where the next pay cheque was coming from. After all, it isn’t like Janet Jackson has stepped up and become the breadwinner has she? In the first of a million more trials, Dr. Conrad Murray is going to argue the original decision. He’ll be using the following utterly incomprehensible defense:

“Improper exclusion of defence evidence and witnesses that resulted in violating the defendant’s State and constitutional rights to due process, to present a defence and to the effective assistance of counsel.”

Because none of us are trained lawyers, we assume that Dr. Conrad Murray feels that some of the witnesses used against him were dodgy. Perhaps his argument does have a modicum of logic. Michael Jackson was getting quite deluded in his later life, so perhaps calling on the sworn testimony of Santa Claus wouldn’t be appropriate. After all, Murray’s lawyers have said that he’s living in:

“Maximum security conditions in jail and had exhausted virtually all of his available resources.”

It’s well documented that before accidentally knocking off a pop star, Dr. Conrad Murray had no previous criminal conviction. So is it fair that he’s shackled around all day and spends most of his time inside on his own? What’s the ideal solution for team Murray? Living on a secret island with 2Pac? Oh no, it’s something much more quaint:

“He would live with the mother of his child, Nicole Alvarez, and would seek employment. He also is said to be willing to wear an electronic bracelet so his movements can be monitored.”

Michael Jackson fans could benefit! Imagine the Dr. Conrad Murray GPS tracking system app. The Jackson family could easily tap in and leech off that idea.

When Michael Jackson was alive (he’s very much dead these days), he ended up getting married to Lisa Marie Presley. It was weird. The King Of Pop shacking up with The King Of Rock ‘n’ Roll’s daughter. Mixing pop royalty like that… it’s incestuous and odd.

And guess what is going to happen?

That’s right, with a little bit of history repeating itself, Michael’s daughter – Paris Jackson – is giving the sex-eye to pop midget, Justin Bieber. You can just imagine the people behind both of these veritable toddlers advising them about how good a relationship with each other would be for their careers. Blecch!

It appears that Paris is not able to resist the juggernaut charm of Bieber, after she introduced him at her father’s tribute show in Hollywood.

It is reported that she ‘nearly melted in the process’. Much like her father’s face then? Nice that someone should carry on the noble family tradition.

In her intro, Paris said:

“We are all very big fans of [Justin] and his music” — and then, with a coy smile, she added, “I know I am.”

Then, Justin appeared to thunderous screams (again, much like the screams Michael would be greeted by when he found himself dazed and drugged and wandering around a playground without his special Bad trousers on) and rattled through a version of ‘Rockin’ Robin’, which MJ covered back in ’72.

Sadly, now Bieber has covered the song, it has rendered it unlistenable forever more.

Either way, keep an eye out for a gut-wrenching break-up between Bieber and Selena Gomez as he cruelly tosses her aside for a more famous, more bizarre Jackson sprog.

Good news is, is that this could get very, very ugly indeed. She’s the one with a tea-towel on her head, right?

Americans have loads of stuff that’s essentially just for them, but occasionally seeps into the cultural mindset of others. Even though its just rounders for men, they call it the “world series” even though only American teams compete.

Then there’s the general extra injection of happiness and excitement that all Americans possess. Even going to the toilet to expel waste results in over enthusiastic whoops, screams and cheers, almost like they’ve passed a sparkly stool.

TV is, sometimes, America’s best export. But then again, this is the same nation that still churns out The Simpsons despite all its charm vanishing years ago. One giant success is Glee, even though it is essentially a TV version of High School Musical, but even more sweet and sickly. And the series is about to broadcast a tribute Michael Jackson episode. What could possibly go wrong?

Now, we don’t really want to bring this up, but if memory serves, there were a few incidents during Michael Jackson’s career where he was accused of being slightly inappropriate with children. Not by accidentally swearing in front of an infant, rather, he was accused of committing the last taboo – having a fiddle with a tot.

That made him bad, dangerous and totally off the wall when the world found out.

But who are we to accuse someone of a crime they didn’t commit? After all, not one, but two separate juries let him off all charges brought against him. Hooray! We’re sure he Michael Jackson celebrated with a Jesus Juice party inside a tree house. Of course we still make jokes about it, but then again, Michael Jackson fans are no better.

They’re still baying for the blood of ‘Sexy’ Dr. Conrad Murray. Nobody ever overlooks the fact that Jackson was a known addict to industrial strength drugs. And poor ‘Sexy’ Conrad was convicted of his manslaughter as he was the provider of said drugs. Great to Team Jackson – Jermaine, Tito, Randy and Janet all involved in the process of trying to save their brother. Not La Toya though. She’s too mental to care.

With the world more or less over the death of the pop star, there’s still another way for the Jackson estate to bore us about his career and see a mini surge in sales.

On January 31st, an episode will premiere featuring a bucket load of songs which will be praised by fans of the show and hated by Michael Jackon nutcases, who’ll be angered that someone dared emulate their hero. A teaser trailer has been released to promote the episode. LOOK:

This will all be interspliced with the following storyline that we have no idea about. Even the hecklerspray phantom couldn’t manage an episode:

“The rivalry between the New Directions and the Warblers intensifies en route to Regionals. Meanwhile, Kurt and Rachel receive news regarding their admissions process at NYADA, and things continue to heat up between Sam and Mercedes.”

2-4-6-8, what do we appreciate? A large bottle of gin and backstreet fried chicken.

Eighties child-star Corey Feldman has revealed his plans to release a tell-all book naming and shaming two Hollywood pervs.

The-famous-Corey-that-isn’t-dead made similar allegations last August that he was targeted by predatory men from age 14. However, rather than take these claims to the police, he seems to have walked passed the station, right to a publisher.

This is Hollywood after all.

He seh:

“Even today people say about me, ‘Eighties heartthrob; hasn’t done anything since.’ The truth is I haven’t stopped. Last year I did four films.

“Corey and I were pegged as the scapegoats…

“People need to know the reason Corey and I were swept under the carpet like the beaten dogs that were sent to the pound so no one had to deal with us anymore.”

Now, there’s no telling what Alive Corey is talking about specifically. Predatory perverts, in Hollywood?! Next you’ll be telling us that those weren’t yoghurt stains on that big comfy sofa in our agent’s soundproofed, airless office.

Disclaimer: allegations of abuse of any kind are a serious matter. However, there are better ways to shop perps (yes, we said perps) than in a tell-all book. There are entire institutions and agencies dedicated to this sort of thing.

And to hang your dead-in-the-water career on it, well, hate to tell you this Corey, but your rollercoaster ride with heroin and weight-gain may have contributed to that a little.

Considering Feldman was one of Michael Jackson’s biggest champions (despite admitting the singer once showed him a book containing photos of diseased genitals), we’re all quite interested to see who he is going to name and shame.

Bonus point: The video back from August 2011

Well hello there, and good tidings! But let’s just cut the small-talk here before things get all chatty-chatty like what those baby lesbians do off Coronation Street. So, Janet Jackson’s awful.  

Hear that, Great Britain? Here that, Janet Jackson’s official fan club underneath all the wild babble?

Oh, quiet down at the front ? JanFan47?! Cease and desist 1nPHATuation! (Amazing.) PIPE DOWN Janhova_Troll_Slayer! Not our words! No! We’d never flirt with incessant mockery and combine that with the Jackson family, what with all that pain and despair they’ve been harboring these past few years.

No, these are the harsh, cruel, ill-judged vibes of PETA of course. That’s the one. Bitch-eyes from the furries. Tut tut. Ohnoshedidn’t. Holy Things That Matter Entirely, Batman. All that.

After designing a (admittedly quite real-fur specific) fashion label BlackGlama, Janet has been called up for her crimes against all the adorable little swans and herons she’s been murdering grumpily whilst rolling her eyes and muttering about glass ceilings, The Klumps, and cardiologists that dawdle, and been told by the PETA to “GRR STOPIT WE DON’T LIKE HOW FAMOUS AND NASTY YOU ARE.”

Or if you’re hankering for something a tad more specific:

‘When Janet Jackson had her infamous wardrobe malfunction during Super Bowl XXXVIII, at least what popped into view of 170 million onlookers belonged to her, unlike the animal skins she drapes herself in, which are as dead as her fashion taste and her career.’

What, Justin Timberlake’s odium? Oh, right her nipples. Oh, let us off, it’s the end of the year.

Hmm. This doesn’t really make sense at all, really. Does she…win? Is that it? Did Janet Jackson win at PETA?

Oh, well in that case, that’s wonderful! Congratulations Janet. Especially when you must have had stiff competition from our own UK genocide attempts.

 *Sigh*

If anybody tells you that car boot sales and charity shops are pointless, they clearly don’t know what they’re talking about. Nothing beats the wonders of rummaging through boxes on a cold early morning with a ropey £1 polystyrene cup of tea whilst searching for hidden gems.

The high street charity shop is a haven for those sourcing everything from old records to a piece of clothing that would sell for bucket loads in a vintage boutique. Granted, someone might have died in the blazer you’re donning for a night out, but a few washes and squirt of Lynx Africa will cover that death musk.

Whilst second hand goods of the common man and woman change hands for a handful of pounds, the rules change when famous people are involved. One particular auction has been on the cards for ages with Michael Jackson extremists squealing in their droves as they get the chance to own items that they probably already have.

One of the more bizarre items that was rumoured to have been up for sale was the bed where poor Michael Jackson did his last boogie in. After Dr. Conrad Murray had administered a dose of sexy medical help and had been unable to save him, the bed could have wound up as a weird shrine to Jackson nutters everywhere.

In a way, we’re sad that it wasn’t up for auction. We’d have just published rumours that if 10,000 litres of tears where poured on the bed, the ghost of Jackson would reappear. Thrilling.

The pre-auction estimate of what was on offer ranged from $200,000 to $400,000 which would have filled the pockets of the Jackson estate quite well. Instead, this figure was blown out of the water with the final total being close to $1million. For that amount of money, Joe Jackson could customise all of his famous beating belts with the finest gemstones in the world. So what exactly was on offer?

“A kitchen chalkboard where Jackson’s children wrote ‘I love daddy,’ which sold for $5,000, and an armoire upon which Jackson wrote a message to himself on the mirror that fetched $25,750.”

It’s important to note that the chalkboard came from one of Jackson’s kids and not from one of his alleged child abuse victims when he bought their love with Jesus Juice and extreme sleepovers. However, it does make us wonder what a chalkboard with a message saying “HELP, HE TOUCHED MY SPECIAL AREA” would be worth.

Whilst it might seem creepy that someone purchased items with personal family messages on, you can always count on Michael Jackson weirdness to go that one extra step:

“The headboard from the bed where Jackson died at age 50 was removed from the auction at the family’s request, but the rug that was beneath the bed sold for $15,360. The estimate had been $400 to $600.”

Yeah! Maximum respect for the headboard there. Who knows what someone would do it if they purchased it? Christ, they might replace it with their bedroom rug, so that  Michael can almost be watching over them whilst they sleep and search for the sweetest of dreams. Who wouldn’t want their very own drug addicted skin morphing guardian angel looking after them?

With the auctions all over, how refreshing is it to know that grown adults will be going to bed and cuddling objects that Michael Jackson either touched, licked, rubbed or got aroused over?

They say that everyone deserves a second chance to learn from their mistakes. Or if you happen to have an ounce of intelligence, not copying the moves of those that led to their downfall.

One of the greatest examples of cocking-up a childhood comes from no-other than the Jackson family. Whilst we were left marvelled and amazed at the family’s dance moves, they were secretly hurting inside thanks to regular whippings from father Joe. Missing out on childhood clearly affected Michael, so you’d assume that his three children would be ushered away from showbiz? Oh, how wrong you’d be.

Thankfully, Paris looks like she’s decided to venture away from singing and head towards Hollywood. Yep! She’s going to be in a film! Good thing the movie industry hasn’t got a record of dark deeds and conspiracy, eh?

Despite not seeing any pages of script or knowing what the film is about, we can guarantee you that the movie will be rubbish. How do we know that? Well we haven’t consulted a fortune teller, but instead, we just looked at the title. It’s called “Lundon’s Bridge and the Three Keys,” there’s a glaring typo that’s more obvious than a streaker at a football match.

Nearly everyone in the whole wide world knows that London Bridge is a hotspot for tourists when they visit England. So misspelling a capital city is something that should make the producers cringe since we’ve now brought it to their attention.

People will probably argue with us that there’s nothing wrong with a young teenage girl embracing her talent that can be enjoyed by the world. But then again, Lindsay Lohan started off in films such as the “Parent Trap” as a youngster before the yummy substances took over. Even the magic of Disney couldn’t stop Miley Cyrus taking her clothes off and smoking bongs. So what will “Lundon’s Bridge and the Three Keys,” have in store for Paris Jackson before she starts a death cult?

“The film’s website says she plays heroine in a story where magic “turns a dolphin into a human, a teenage boy into a dragonfly and a loving jellyfish queen into an evil fairy godmother.”

Things turning into stuff? Sounds like the sort of mental stuff that Michael Jackson would’ve seen when he was getting a sexy dose of brain altering drugs from Dr. Conrad Murray. But even we assume that she’d probably not want to appear in a film that reminded her of her father’s death.

Even if the film is a load of donkey scrotum, you’ll be guaranteed that it’ll be a box office smash due to mentalist Michael Jackson fans going to see “Lundon’s Bridge and the Three Keys,” at least seventy times a day.

So, you and your stupid family are thinking about having a nice day out together. You don’t want to. You’d rather sit in and watch TV. However, some nagging guilt tells you there’s a world outside, so you make the gesture to others in a bid to make you look like you give a hoot about them.

So where do you go? A theme park? A wildlife sanctuary? A stroll around a vast meadow? A place of historical significance? Banger racing?

OF COURSE NOT YOU BLITHERING RAT BRAIN! There’s only one place worth going to these days, and that’s Michael Jackson’s death house! That’s right! Now that Jacko’s house has been opened to the public, you can stick your nose into the possessions of the recently deceased! Isn’t that wonderful?

So will we all be able to look at the sheets he died on? Will we be able to point and cluck at the stained rug which he took some of his final breaths on? Perhaps we’ll be able to gurgle in the direction of his Propofol cupboard?

Not likely. See, the contents of the Bell Air mansion go under the hammer this week, which means that we could potentially find ourselves stood in an empty house, accompanied only by weeping Michael Jackson fans and the smell of death.

That said, if you’re the kind of cheeky scamp who is determined enough (or, if you prefer, ‘mental’) to get into his house and feel like you’re ‘near him’, you could go down under the pretence of looking at the auction pieces.

Many of the items there will no doubt have been touched by Jackson, so by merely standing by them, you’ll be able to cry loads and feel the will to be charitable grow in your stomach, which in turn, will make you cry even more at all the suffering in the world.

And of course, the fact that a very, very wealthy man managed to spunk loads of his money on a funfair and painkillers as opposed to, y’know, wiping out the third world debt with a waft of his expensive sequinned glove.

Still. DEATH EH? Wooo!

At the moment, ‘Sexy’ Dr. Conrad Murray will be inside a jail cell, confined to a space that’ll make him feel like an animal at the zoo. Last week, justice was delivered to Michael Jackson’s former doctor as punishment for his the star’s manslaughter.

Four years was the term handed down by the judge who deemed Murray a danger to society. Unless he ran around America striking people with hepatitis tipped syringes, he seemed okay in our book. After all, he hadn’t killed anyone before or practised voodoo magic rituals.

Then again, Murray always had an uphill battle as this wasn’t a case against a normal member of society. This was Michael Jackson, a bloke who was famous around the world. Not just for his singing, but his face morphing ability and reliance on painkillers. As expected, this trial rolls on with Dr. Conrad Murray set to protest his innocence.

Taking over two years to come to trial, the whole Dr. Conrad Murray vs the Jackson Estate trial felt extremely weird. Whilst it’ll always be sad that one of the world’s greatest entertainers has died, it does seem that the Jackson family pocketed from the loss.

Millions of pounds have been generated from basics such as record sales and money will have been set aside for his children, but what about the rest? Has it gone to charity? Mental Michael Jackson fans tell us he was in debt due to charitable donations. Something tells us that it’ll be used to bump up the accounts of other family members. The whipping belt collection of Joe Jackson might be set to expand.

One such person to benefit from the vast wealth of Michael Jackson was Dr. Conrad Murray. With a wage of £90,000 a month that was, ironically enough, never received, he had one basic job of keeping the singer alive. Granted, he didn’t do a good job of that, but when someone as powerful as Jackson demands drugs that only a doctor could get, what would you do? Yup, we’d do the same and dole ‘em out despite the fact they could probably knock down a dozen elephants.

Many people are looking at theory that Dr. Conrad Murray was made out to be a scapegoat in the whole messy situation which is a fair point. After all, we didn’t see Janet, Tito, Jermaine or Randy around that often. According to reports:

“He disagrees with the jury’s findings and the pretrial rulings made by the court,’ defence lawyer. Murray filed the appeal in ‘pro per’, which means he is representing himself rather than using an attorney.”

In today’s economic climate, a lot of people carry out two jobs. But to be a lawyer and a doctor? Crikey, Dr. Conrad must be one intelligent bloke to be able to that. But before anyone starts praising him for going in alone and defending his corner, this whole incident could have been avoided as:

“Murray declined to testify during his trial but participated in a documentary in which he said he didn’t consider himself guilty of any crime and blamed Jackson for entrapping him into administering the drug.”

Looks like he’s a comedian as well. We pray that he can somehow get on the next series of Celebrity Big Brother. The sexy, sexy man.

Does anyone ever get the feeling that you can have too much of a good thing? Imagine if someone forced you to live on nothing but steak for a year. You’d get sick of it after a while, no matter how much you love chewing bovine.

The same can’t be said about Michael Jackson fans. Their diet has been nothing but Neverlandian for decades and will remain so forever more.

Worse still, they’re rabid about him. They move in psychotic packs, froth at the mouth and howl in disgust at anyone who badmouths their now deceased idol. However, it seems that their interest is cooling because they’ve nothing to love now that Dr Conrad Murry has been found guilty. Maybe they liked the grief and strife more than MJ’s music?

For Jacksonites, two child molestation cases and the recent trial with Sexy Conrad gave more footage for the fans to record and lust over. Now he’s dead, it seems even more video of the king of pop is surfacing. But for once, nobody could give a flying propofol.

So what’s this footage? Does it contain incriminating evidence where Joe Jackson gave Michael a workout with a belt? Of course not, we’re sure a “lashing tape” doesn’t exist. Instead, its footage filmed during the “Dangerous” tour that happened in 1993.

Fanatics will know that a show from that tour is available to buy when he played Bucharest and is still available for purchase if you want to ruin someone’s Christmas. But something new has emerged, with reports say:

“Made during Jackson’s “Dangerous” tour in 1993 at a stop in Argentina and at nearly two hours long, the footage was shot by Jackson’s own production crew and meant to be an intimate portrait of Jackson on tour. But the singer was unhappy with the quality and gave the only copy to his driver, who was now trying to sell the footage.”

And the price for the tape? Only a paltry £4-6 million. Effectively, it’ll be a piece of video that’ll prove how much of a prick Jackson was to his tour staff. Did he spit out lasagne if it wasn’t cooked with the right sort of mince and demand children on his rider? Or will we be able to see if he really has removable facial feature like Mr. Potato Head? As for now, we won’t know, but a small leak from the tape emerged when he died in 2009. Reports again say:

“The driver said he had been given the tape as “a reward or a bonus” for his “transportation services” and leaked a very short clip of the film online in 2009 after Jackson’s death, but was stopped by the singer’s record label and lawyers who claimed exclusive rights to the film. However, although he is forbidden by US law from distributing copies, he does have the right to sell or transfer the VHS to third parties.”

But no-one cares. Especially Michael Jackson fans. They all probably like Chris Brown now.

Do you know how they make mink coats? They get a mink and shout obscenities at it – IN MINK LANGUAGE – until it cries. Then, they make then stand on their hindly mink legs until they break before men come in and kick the skin off them.

Then, worst of all, the skinless, frightened mink creatures are all forced to sew their fur together into expensive coats.

COATS DESIGNED BY JANET JACKSON WHO HATES MINKS.

Of course, wearing fur is desperately unfashionable these days, now that most have got a conscience. However, that won’t bother Janet Jackson as she’s been out of the pop-cultural loop for years, right?

Apparently, Janet Jacko has managed to get over the death of her brother Michael, forgotten all about those animals that made him cry when they were mistreated and used, and signed up with a fur firm called Blackglama.

No. We didn’t make ‘Blackglama’ up.

Anyway, Janet is going to create a luxury mink collection, which features 15 items ranging from coats to gloves made from the backs, faces and scrota of mink who have been bullied by men with special mink-kicking boots in lipstick.

Janet, unaware as usual, says:

“The art of fashion is one of my great passions. I’ve worked for years to bring a collection into the world. Partnering with Blackglama is very exciting.”

It goes without saying that Jackson has already come under fire from animal-rights campaigners. Last year, after she modelled various dead mink, PETA went mental.

Spokeswoman for PETA, Amanda Schinke, is on record as saying:

“It’s amazing what celebrities will do when their careers are on a downslide, but we didn’t think that Janet was this desperate.”

Schinke should totally write for hecklerspray.

Over the last few years, stories regarding Michael Jackson have all focused on one specific issue. That’s right, his demise from this world and descent into a tacky gold coffin that’s buried deep underground so nutjob fans can’t rub their genitals across it.

More recent events have led to the climax of Jackson’s life where the whole world got to hear what drugs were given to him via ‘Sexy’ Dr. Conrad Murray. Ever since the incident on the set of a Pepsi commercial where the former king of pop’s head resembled a stinky sparkler, Michael supposedly downed pills like Smarties.

We’d like to distance ourselves from the recent courtroom drama featuring the only decent member of The Jackson Five. Instead, we want to relive some of the more memorable moments from his lifetime when he was alive, full of life and generally not being beaten by Poppa Joe.

Now, we’ll get this out of the way now – towards the end of his adult life, there were a couple of incidents that everyone associated with Jacko. As a dedicated animal lover, he didn’t settle at having a budgie or a dog. Instead, Bubbles the monkey was his pet. Granted, there was always the risk of the creature ripping Jackson’s face off, but who cares? Do you know anyone else who owns a monkey? Actually, that might have been the reason for his wonky nose, damn that pesky monkey!

When people play word association with the words “children” and “Michael Jackson”, they automatically start thinking of evil thoughts designed to ruin the singer’s reputation. Remember everyone; he was acquitted twice of having sexy time with children, spiking them with wine and generally tucking them up in bed with a loving look in his milky eyes. So what are we going on about then? Well there was that time in Berlin where Michael proudly showed off his offspring. Most people would pass an infant round a room, but if you’ve got more money than sense, then dangling the tot of a hotel balcony is a much better option of showing your love for children.

Chances are that you’ve never met Michael Jackson and at best, have had to settle for his sister Janet. So how do we get an insight into how the singer acted and behaved when not plagued with dodgy allegations? Well a conveniently released book that’s out just in time for Christmas entitled “My Friend Michael” by close friend Frank Cascio might be able to help us. All sorts of fascinating aspects are revealed, such as a fun loving side to the star who:

“Giggled while throwing a bucket of water over unsuspecting dinner guests.”

Imagine that, you’re sitting down about to bite into a delicious piece of cow and then bloody Michael Jackson covers you in water, touches his crotch and then runs to his room to escape from the people he’s just narked off. But if you think that was abnormal behaviour, it gets slightly weirder. Cascio wrote

“Princess Diana was at the top of Jackson’s list of women he wanted to date, and that Jackson made out with one of his fan club members.”

We can only assume that Jackson had this crush on Princess Diana before her body was smashed to bits by her drunk driver/the paparazzi/MI5 in a Paris tunnel. Unless, of course, we never really discovered how sick and twisted he really was and he really had a love and fetish of dead princess corpses. We’ll never bloody know.

So is the book all happiness and rainbows? Sadly not as Frank Cascio seemingly wants to portray his former friend as a drug addict, seemingly without the help of ‘Sexy’ Dr. Conrad Murray. More extracts from the book say:

“Jackson started one of his anniversary shows an hour late because the star was high on drugs. Particularly in late tours, when Michael was under great stress and needed help falling asleep.”

We await the mental Michael Jackson fans to start nitpicking the book to pieces like vultures and explaining how his former best friend is a total liar and has painted the wrong image.

Finding a man to play Michael Jackson in a biopic is no easy task. Listen, LaToya Jackson is surely not in the picture, despite being MJ’s reanimated corpse. Think about it. You need someone who vaguely looks like the former King of Pop.

Naturally, what with Michael going from handsome black man to Roswell white man, there’s not many people who are up to the task, unless someone creates some ET/human/chameleon hybrid.

However, seeing as a Michael Jackson biopic is in the pipeline, there’s actors being touted to guzzle Propofol like UHT milk. And oddly, most of them are white.

Weirdly enough, Johnny Depp has been made the favourite to play Jackson in a film that will be made by Ghostbusters producers Ivan Reitman and Tom Pollock. Let us hope that their ghost enthusiasm hasn’t waned and they include that amazing MJ seance held by Derek Acorah when he channelled Mike and said ‘Say hi to Quincy Jones for me.’

Anyway, bookmakers Paddy Power opened betting and Depp ran away with a hilarious lead with odds of 4/1 with other big white names like High School Musical’s Zac Effron getting odds at 9/2 and Justin Timberlake at 12/1.

Will Smith and Usher have also been mentioned too, but that kinda spoils our angle on the article.

Sharon McHugh, spokesperson for Paddy Power, said in a statement:

“It’s going to be one mammoth task trying to get someone good enough at acting and dancing to fill Michael Jackson’s moon-walking shoes but when it comes to the race we’re betting it don’t matter if he’s black or white!”

Jesus Christ. Anyway, one person who has been cruelly overlooked is the marvellously odd Eddie Murphy who is certainly not averse to playing different characters with different faces. Better yet, he’s got form when it comes to singing bad synth-soul!

Check this out. He could totally do a Jamie Foxx when he played Ray Charles and sing the OST!

And, even BETTER than that, Eddie Murphy has links to Michael Jackson. Yes, he appeared in one of MJ’s videos (Do You Remember The Time), but Jackson appeared on one of Eddie’s singles from ’93.

Yes he did. And boy howdy, you’ll laugh when you see this video. Eddie dressed up like he’s just been kicked out of the Blue Oyster club and Jackson looking as ghoulish as ever!

Enjoy this one and start putting your money on Eddie Murphy playing Jackson in his biopic. Oh, and Carlton from the Fresh Prince to play Sexy Conrad Murray, please.

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