Eamonn Holmes is a man famed for the legendary status of his gargantuan gob.

Not only is it capable of producing more crap than his backside on a day-to-day basis, but when it isn’t spewing verbal sewage it’s being stuffed with all manner of deep-fried goodies.

Well, let’s hope Eamonn has deep-fried his foot after he managed to, once again, get it firmly lodged between his gums during an interview on This Morning.

Holmboy was interviewing a woman who was described as a, “sex addict,” or slag as they’re oft’ known in certain parts of Essex, when he dared to ask her:

“If you need this five or six times a day, have you never thought about making a business of it? Charging for it?”

Taxi for Holmes.

It transpires that sex addicts don’t like it when you ask them why they don’t just become prostitutes, because apparently they’re people too.

Albeit people who like to blame their socially blossoming genitalia on an addiction, in the hope that people will feel sorry for them as opposed to questioning how many STIs they have or asking them if they’ve ever considered becoming a prostitute live on daytime TV.

THIS IS SERIOUS DAMMIT, STOP LAUGHING!

Oh, you weren’t?

The bonking bonkers lady in question, Crystal Warren, curtly told Uncle Eamonn that she didn’t want to go on the game because:

“Then it becomes a business, then I become maybe like a robot. This way I am enjoying it, I do it when I want to do it, I get to choose who I sleep with.”

It’s the business side of prostitution that’s definitely the worst part of it, after all, who really knows how you go about claiming condoms as a tax-deductible expense?

Seriously. HMRC wouldn’t return our calls.

CONGRATULATIONS HUGH GRANT. You have had a baby. Is it with a prostitute? We don’t know! But the answer is definitely, irrefutably, unequivocally, probably.

‘Hugh Grant’s publicist’ (HAHAHA) revealed the news, yesterday insisting that honestly:

“He and the mother had a fleeting affair and while this was not planned, Hugh could not  be happier or more supportive. He and the mother have discussed everything and are on very friendly terms.”

Because honesty really, really is by some considered to be something of a policy.

Oh, and for those who prefer their Hugh Grant news in a safer sounding, slightly witty, and altogether more endearing way, as always, here’s the Richard Curtis version of the same official statement.

“Blimey!”

That’s right. Hugh, who is 280 years old, has done a ‘Hugh Grant’ (that’s a bit of a Hugh Grant humour for you there) and become a father for the very first time to an accidental infant girl. Christ, some people have all the 1999 Kids Choice Favourite Movie Couple Blimp Awards luck, don’t they?

No word yet from Hugh on whether or not he gives a toss about this yet. Does he even know? Does Hugh Grant look like the kind of gent who reads the ‘PS’ section of emails? Not with haphazard, free-falling locks like those, that’s for sure.

As you may imagine, we’re head over heels for Hugh, and of course the glowing, irrelevant, and forever anonymous mother, and wish to send a special hecklerspray congratulations to the happy couple.

But wait! What will this little bundle of joy (but more importantly: RESPONSIBILITY) do to Hugh’s saucy, libidinous, constantly-happening-all-the-time sex life, we hear you cry?

What’s that, you say?

Go on. Don’t be shy.

‘Hugh Grant never met a vagina he didn’t like?‘

Guys. That is sick.

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Awesome or Off-Putting is a weekly delve into cryptozoology, ufology, aliens, medical marvels, scientific wonders, secret societies, government conspiracies, cults, ghosts, EVPs, ancient artifacts, strange facts, odd sightings or just the plain unexplainable.

Some people think that the greatest threat posed by shape shifters is that they might turn into large dogs and eat you. Those people are right. That is definitely the biggest threat posed by those who shift their shape.

A lesser known problem presents itself, however, when the person with this magical ability is a hilarious prostitute. This, according to a Zimbabwean man arrested while humping a donkey, is exactly what happened to him.

When you’re drunk in a bar and a big toothed woman offers to turn a trick for seven leafy carrot-ends, it’s probably a good idea to get a second opinion from the bar tender. Had Sunday Moyo, a man from Zimbabwe, heeded this advice then perhaps he wouldn’t have been arrested while listening to Barry White with a decent-looking donkey.

He was in a bar, you see, and a human being prostitute made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. And now he has donkey-AIDS.

To be fair we didn’t actually read anywhere that Moyo has donkey AIDS, we just assume it to be the case as he was dallying with a whorish mule. He didn’t bopp the burro on purpose, though. According to him he thought he was making sweet love to a regular two-legged lady who was tied to a tree. In his own words (to a judge):

“Your worship, I only came to know that I was being intimate with a donkey when I got arrested.”

Now that may sound weird to you, but it isn’t. And it isn’t because of love. Real love – like the kind between a man and his wife, or in Zimbabwe, a man and various animals in his barn. See – Moyo goes on to explain:

“I think I am also a donkey. I do not know what happened when I left the bar, but I am seriously in love with (the) donkey.”

That’s the exact reason we always dry hump pizza boxes. Love.

You can’t help what you love. That’s why we’re considered legally married to a cheesy pie in 23 states.

Mother is not pleased.

Proud Englishman and former England captain, David Beckham, wants to become a U.S. citizen. If you listen very carefully, you can just about hear the disappointment emanating drifting over the ocean.

That’s right America! You can put up with his silly, squeaky voice from now on and we’ll all chortle as his voice becomes Americanised, replacing ‘rubbish’ for ‘trash’, dropping the odd ‘U’ from words and spelling ‘defence’ the American way – A.T.T.A.C.K.

And better yet, you’ll get to keep his wife Victoria all for yourselves.

The footballer… sorry… soccer star and Posh Spice (yes, we’re still calling her that because she hasn’t really done much since her Spice Girls days, other than simply exist in a variety of expensive clothes) moved to Los Angeles with their three sons in 2007 when he signed up to play for L.A. Galaxy for so much money that it guaranteed his team mates hated him on sight.

And now, Beckham wants to stay in the States so his children can finish their education there. They’ll be experts in Creationism before you now it!

Of course, ol’ Davey Boy wants to reiterate that despite wanting to sever ties with England, he’ll always be an Englishman. Just one who prefers to be officially ‘American’.

When asked if he would consider U.S. citizenship, he told the Los Angeles Times

“I hope so, one day. It would be nice. I’m English born and bred. And that’s the way I’ll always be. I’m an Englishman, you know…

“Our boys go to school here. They’re happy here. As long as they continue to be happy here, my wife’s happy here, then we plan on staying.”

So there you have it. Let a reverse tug o’war proceed where both parties insist that the other takes the spoils.

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It’s been quiet for the tabloids this week. Things have gotten so bad, they’ve been forced into covering politics! Admittedly their coverage of the Labour leadership has been more like the video for Two Tribes by Frankie Goes to Hollywood, but with Liam and Noel Gallagher cast as the cold war leaders.

There was such a severe dearth of decent celeb-stories for them to cover that The Sun reported the revelation that Kate Moss was taking Folic Acid, popular amongst hopeful and pregnant mothers, by having a page long banner calmly announcing “KATE’S ON ACID”.

The Daily Mail accused Madonna of being undignified and not acting her age because of some saucy Dolce & Gabanna pics, although when Helen Mirren is pictured scantily clad, it’s a triumph for the representation of older women everywhere. The Mirror decided to dedicate a front page to Coleen Nolan almost having her arm ripped off (known in some circles as not having her arm ripped off) when handling a pony, the content of which amounted to a more sober ‘ex-pop star breaks finger’ scoop.

Fortunately there’s still one story with mileage and that was the ‘evil dead-eyed Eastern European succubus definitely didn’t have sex with David Beckham’ controversy.

There has been unanimous disapproval for the woman even Jesus would invariably refer to as “that lying whore, Irma Nici”. She’s been the object of the type of demonisation that multi-national news companies normally reserve for working-class women in Sheffield who forget to update Social Services of a change in their circumstances.

The gist of the story is that the media are so outraged on our behalf that this woman has claimed to sleep with David Beckham as a short-cut to fame, that they have given her extensive front-page coverage thus ensuring her total anonymity. Luckily the papers act in the confidence that they occupy a moral high ground since they would never give money to someone selling a story about sleeping with a celebrity.

Things took a new twist with claims that she could identify distinguishing features on his willy but according to The Sun, the Beckhams have a secret weapon. Whenever our nation is under attack by foreigners, it is only a matter of time until someone invokes the name of our favourite balaclava-clad super-soldiers, and so it was that they reported that the Beckhams had “engaged former SAS soldiers to help destroy Nici’s claims”. Yes, that’s right, our elite fighting force have got involved. They’re going to storm the embassy where the claims are holding the truth hostage and calmly shoot the evil lies in their heads. Their stupid metaphysical evil lying heads.

On Wednesday The Sun, who by this point had relegated all other global events to a footnote on page 12, reported that the Beckhams would donate any money gained from the court case to a charity. An entirely made-up source referred to as a “pal” of the couple stated “any cash retrieved from this liar will help sick kids”. So essentially, if Nici does win the case she will have been responsible for the deaths of children. Where will her web of evil end? Find out next week, when we bring more entries from the diary of our hardworking tabloid journalists, the fearless truth-seekers.

This article was edited, and all spelling mistakes destroyed, by former SAS soldiers.

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David Beckham probably doesn’t like hookers. Not that one should suppose he takes personal umbrage with all hookers. But there’s one who’s singing like a canary to a tacky tabloid that he’s got to be at least mildly annoyed by.

David also doesn’t like to be heckled, hecklers. You’d do well to not bring up the call girl who, to be fair, David probably didn’t sleep with in 2007. You might get shouted at. Really loudly. In David’s totally not scary helium-inhaling-sounding voice.

David, for those out of the loop, is rumoured by an American magazine called In Touch Weekly to have a bit of a soft spot for the ladies of the night. Ladies who cost $10,000-per-night. The kind who twiddle their thumbs for three years before coming out of hiding to ruin your life. Ladies like 26-year-old Irma Nici. That tart – and we’re not just name calling because we’re annoyed we wasted our time at Heckler University to earn… not $10K-per-night.

At least we get to live vicariously through the imaginative minds at ITW. Though, with the amount of creative writing going into each of their cover stories, sometimes we wish we worked there.

Irma’s claims of vanilla paid sex sessions, three years ago, during a time David was already married with three kids, have gained surprising ground considering they’re not based on much. A few text messages, and perhaps a few photos, do not a scandal make in our books.

Someone needs to tell that to the smart mouth who mocked David over the cheating allegations. Someone who sounds like they are being an utter ass about the whole thing. Someone who made our beloved, silly-voiced David fly into a rage. A totally not terrifying rage.

News of the World has the video. And Us Weekly magazine reports:

Don’t tease David Beckham about his hooker scandal. The soccer stud, 35, exploded after one fan taunted him after his team LA Galaxy defeated the New York Red Bulls, 2-0, Friday night. “Stop with the prostitutes!” the fan yelled, referring to In Touch Weekly’s erroneous cover claiming that Beckham had wild sex with $10,000-a-night hookers.

Hearing the remarks, Beckham immediately turned around and marched toward his heckler. “Oh, he’s coming after me!” the fan said (see that on the video from Britain’s News of the World’s website, above). Seconds later, Beckham got in the man’s face and snapped, “Do you want to say it again? Do you want to say it again?”  The person pleaded, “I didn’t say anything!” Disgusted, Beckham replied, “You got a Galaxy shirt on! You got a Galaxy shirt on!” He walked away still furious before turning back again, pointing at his head and mouthing the words: “Say it to my face.”

This was a guest post by Amy Grindhouse, so hooray for that.

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Peter Crouch is a rare fish isn’t he? He’s about 60ft tall and 3 inches wide. He looks like Brassneck from The Dandy if he was made with straws by toddlers at a playgroup. Yet, despite all this, he’s a rather talented footballer.

Of course, him being a footballer means that he’s prone to monumental idiocy. After seeming like he was one of the good ones, answering “a virgin” when asked “what would you be if you weren’t a footballer?”, he went and shagged it all up by ALLEGEDLY have sex with a prostitute in Madrid.

You might imagine that Crouchistuta would be pretty angry at the newspapers for breaking that story… and he is indeed angry at them. Though, it appears that he’s not fussed about the whole ‘lady of the night’ thing, but rather, the fact that The Sun broke a story about his gal, Abbey Clancy, is pregnant.

Indeed, the rag-top newspaper announced that Clancy (of no fixed talent as yet) is expecting a baby boy, claiming that she had been overhead talking about her 12-week scan in a restaurant.

This is supposed to be good news, right?

Well, Crouchinho has complained that the publication broke the news before she was three-months pregnant (something of a no-no) and, worse yet, they’d not even got ’round to telling all their family members.

Crouch said:

“I am very upset by the way in which The Sun has behaved. This is a private matter between me and Abbey and she is in fact less than three months pregnant. Abbey told me on 25 July that she was pregnant but we agreed to keep it private until she was ready to make an announcement.

“There were even some members of our families who were still unaware that Abbey is pregnant until today’s revelations in The Sun. I will not be saying anything more at this time.”

The footballer’s solicitor Graham Shear added:

“Peter Crouch today condemned intrusive Sun reporters who followed his girlfriend to a private clinic and eavesdropped and apparently recorded her private conversation in a restaurant. The Sun published a story stating that Abbey is pregnant, depriving her of the opportunity to make this public in her own time and in her own way.”

We can only hope that any babies that he’s about to have with prostitutes don’t get the same treatment, eh? Not that we’re saying there’s more babies out there.

IT’S MEANT TO BE A JOKE.

Oh, leave us alone. We can’t write properly anymore because we can’t stop thinking of Peter Crouch’s long, thin penis. It probably looks like a butcher’s pencil or something.

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Did you read The Dandy? Ever looked at Peter Crouch and thought to yourself “Ah! That’s what happened to Brassneck!”? No? You’re an idiot. Anyway, Peter Crouch has been a bit of a favourite amongst many because he’s seemed like a nice chap and owned that rarest of footballing traits – self deprecation. And then he stuck his long, thin penis into a prostitute.

Yes indeed, a man that was clearly continually punching above his weight was almost egged on by a nation because thanks to being nice, everyone wanted the lanky freakshow to get himself an attractive girlfriend.

However, like all professional sportsmen, he ultimately let us down by being acting like a spoilt dick.

Whilst on a stag-do in Madrid, Crouchistuta apparently got sucked off in a taxi and then, to use footballer parlance, nailed a prozzer in a cheap hotel for €1000.

Of course, the tabloids had a field day and couldn’t wait to tell everyone about it, just before the football season starts and England play a friendly against Who Cares?

Naturally, Abbey Clancy (his missus) was furious and probably said something like “I was doing you a favour you massive streak of piss! And you’ve blown it!”

Now she’s moving out of the home they share.

The Daily Star helped her to pack some of her stuff up, offering sagely advice on how to cope with a break-up. That, or they spied on her crying over the boxes piled up in the hallway of the Surrey mansion.

Clancy was yesterday shown being comforted by John Terry’s wife Toni, whose marriage to the Chelsea captain survived newspaper reports of his infidelity.

Oh, and click here for a picture of Brassneck.

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Remember how Boy George once cameoed on The A-Team, a show about men jailed for a crime they didn’t commit?

Well now Boy George has more in common with them than ever. Because he too has been jailed for a crime that… oh no, wait, Boy George did chain that Norwegian prostitute up and threaten to kill him, didn’t he? In that case, ignore everything we just said.

Boy George has been sentenced to 15 month in jail for falsely imprisoning a manwhore. Logic states that he’ll be out in seven for good behaviour, but reality states that he probably won’t because he’s a dickhead.

When Boy George wrote Do You Really Want To Hurt Me, there’s a fairly solid chance that he wasn’t picturing a scenario in which a tattooed serial arsonist has got him pinned to the inside of a prison cell by his throat and is waving a rudimentary stabbing device close to his eye because of his reputation as a homosexual.

Which is ironic, really, since that’s probably how Boy George is going to be spending the next 15 months of his life. You see, Boy George has just been sentenced to 15 months in jail for the crime of a male Norwegian prostitute to a wall against his will and loudly threatened to kill him that he was found guilty of last month. The Guardian reports:

Boy George was today sentenced to 15 months in jail for falsely imprisoning a male escort by handcuffing him to a wall and beating him with a metal chain. Passing sentence at Snaresbrook crown court, east London, Judge David Radford said the singer’s offence was “so serious that only an immediate sentence of imprisonment can be justified”.

Of course, at the time Boy George believed that he was well within his rights to chain a Norwegian manwhore to his wall, threaten to kill and then beat him with a chain when he tried to escape, because he honestly believed that the prostitute looked at his computer funny or something – an accusation that we also thought could be punishable by chaining and beating and death threats. Goes to show what we know, huh?

As the judge pointed out in his sentencing, this jail term will come at a considerable cost to Boy George. There’s a very strong chance he’ll never be able to perform in America or Japan again now, which is a double shame, because American and Japanese male prostitutes are renowned for their tenacity and endurance when it comes to being chained to a wall by former popstars who now closely resemble extraordinarily dour potatoes.

Since he was immediately sent to prison, Boy George didn’t get to pass comment on his sentence today, but last month he did say the following to gig-goers at a show in London:

“I like to think you can say a lot by saying nothing. I’ll just say this: none of us are defined by our mistakes.”

Which is dignified and poetic and everything but, if you can say a lot by saying nothing, you can probably say even more by screaming “Fucking whore! Now you’re going to get what you deserve!” into the face of a naked, petrified Scandinavian who you’ve chained to your wall against his will. And that’s what’s important.

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Bald, fat, previously androgynous 1980s homosexual popstars, let this be a lesson – no beating up manwhores with a chain.

We’re being serious. It doesn’t go down well at all. Boy George, king of the bald, fat, previously androgynous 1980s homosexual popstars, has been found guilty of handcuffing a Norwegian male prostitute to a wall, beating him with a chain and threatening to kill him, and now he’s probably going to jail for it.

It just goes to show – never copy Boy George. It was true when you decided to decided to grow those nasty white-boy dreadlocks and it’s true now.

Poor Boy George, he’s such a victim of circumstance. After all, who can honestly say, hand on heart, that they haven’t ever hired a Scandinavian male prostitute with the intention of making a number of pornographic photos together? We certainly have. We’ve done that very thing three times already today, and we’re going to use the resulting images on our Christmas cards.

So when Boy George decided that he wanted to make a load of gay porno pictures with Norwegian prostitute Audun Carlsen last year, nobody batted an eyelid. But the thing is with male prostitutes from Norway is that they’re notoriously unpredictable – something which Boy George understood and dealt with by handcuffing Carlsen to a wall. And beating him with a chain. And threatening to kill him, just in case all the stuff with the handcuffs and chain-beating didn’t really get the message across well enough.

Notice we didn’t use the word allegedly once there? That’s because it’s all true – our Christmas cards really are going to feature disturbing scenes of homosexual bondage and, after admitting that he used handcuffs to restrain him, Boy George really has just been found guilty of manwhore-chaining. People reports:

Boy George has been convicted of falsely imprisoning a male escort. The singer looked grim as the verdict was delivered. The singer was released on bail until his Jan. 16 sentencing. Judge David Radford warned Boy George that he was likely to face jail time. “The fact that your bail is being continued does not imply that this will be dealt with by a non-custodial sentence. I don’t want any false expectations created.”

No wonder Boy George is looking a possible prison sentence. Jailing Boy George seems like the only sensible option, and not just because everyone knows that if you give Boy George community service, he’ll just run around hitting people with a broom and squealing.

No, we should think of poor Audun Carlsen here – he’s the real victim of Boy George’s crime. Getting chained up and beaten against your will is bad enough at the best of times, but knowing that you could be kept there forever or – worse – have to listen to any of Boy George’s solo albums is almost the dictionary definition of inhumane.

And think of his career prospects – by getting Boy George convicted of a false imprisonment charge, Audun Carlsen probably won’t be able to get any male prostitution work now. The poor boy will probably be reduced to… wait, what’s something that you can be reduced to when your last job involved being paid paltry sums of money to get bummed by chubby hasbeen singers? Is there even anything? No?

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Remember when that male prostitute said Boy George chained him to a wall, hit him and threatened to kill him?

Well, turns out it’s true. Partially – Boy George has admitted that he did handcuff Audun Carlsen up, and that he did hit him a bit, but only consensually. But Boy George swears that he wasn’t going to kill him, because a dead manwhore wouldn’t be great for his career.

Remember, Boy George once painted his jaw black and pretended to be David Bowie on Celebrity Stars In Their Eyes, so he obviously knows a great career move when he sees one.

You can tell that Christmas is coming. There’s a chill in the air, a sense of breathless anticipation in everyone you meet, and also Boy George has managed to cartwheel gormlessly into another fat crapload of trouble.

It’s becoming a tradition, you see – Christmas 2006 was when Boy George went to court because a) he wanted to show off the new Fat Bald Goth look he was cultivating and b) he’d been arrested for filling his house with cocaine or something.

Then Christmas 2007 was when Boy George got arrested for allegedly falsely imprisoning a Norwegian male prostitute by handcuffing him to a wall, beating him up with a chain and threatening to kill him and, now it’s coming up to Christmas 2008, it must be time for Boy George to go to court for that very thing.

So he has. And in a shocking display of honesty, Boy George has admitted that he did chain his Norwegian manwhore up to a wall in his house. But only because Boy George wanted to make a series of pornographic photographs with him and then got a bit paranoid because he thought the manwhore was stealing the photos from his computer. Reuters reports:

Singer Boy George admitted to police that he handcuffed a male escort to his bed and threatened him, but was not going to kill him, a court heard on Monday at his trial on false imprisonment charges. “I absolutely admit I had him in the handcuffs, so he wouldn’t go anywhere while I checked the computer. I certainly wasn’t going to kill him, that’s hardly going to do my career any good is it?” he told police.

So let’s get this straight – Boy George is in court because he didn’t want a glitter-covered Norwegian prostitute to make pornographic photos of Boy George public? And he might go to prison for this? This is all wrong – Boy George should be freed immediately. Freed and given the keys to the city. And a castle made of solid gold to live in.

Seriously – if Boy George hadn’t chained Audun Carlsen up and threatened him like he supposedly did, then do you know what we’d be looking at right now? Pictures of a fat bald goth who looks like he does a bit of bricklaying on the side standing around licking his lips with a funny little erection wedged between his fat little thighs, that’s what.

No, by making sure that those photos stayed private, Boy George has saved us all from blindness or madness or both, and we should all shake him firmly by the hand for that.

Well, OK, maybe not literally shake him by the hand. Not unless we want to catch Norwegian hand-syphilis or whatever it is that these manwhores pass about. But, you know, we can bump elbows with him or something.

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Kids, if you ever want to be famous, don’t forget the importance of having sex with high-ranking government officials for cash.

That’s what Ashley Dupré did, and it’s been the making of her. Since being named as the prostitute who led to the downfall of former New York Governor Eliot Spitzer, Ashley Dupré has become a megastar. She can’t even leave her house anymore without people recognising her and shouting encouraging messages like “I know you! You’re that whore!” and “Hey Little Miss Grubbyknickers! Here’s some money! Eat this!”

In fact Ashley Dupré is now so famous that she’s got her own episode of 20/20 coming up where she gets to reveal that she doesn’t feel responsible for Eliot Spitzer’s resignation, the emotions she experienced as the scandal unfolded and the way that she feels ‘connected’ to Eliot Spitzer’s wife – which we think might be code for crabs or syphilis or something, though we couldn’t say for certain.

We have to tip our hat to ABC at the moment. We don’t know how it’s doing it, but somehow it’s managing to find all the stories that everybody cared about half a year ago but don’t any more and give them all super-long documentaries for no apparent reason whatsoever. ABC, you deserve a medal.

Seriously, thanks to you we’ve learnt all about Peter Cook’s divorce from Christie Brinkley several months after it stopped being interesting, and we’ve learnt all about the pregnant man long after he stopped being even vaguely controversial – so what now? Oh, that whole ‘Eliot Spitzer banging a whore’ thing! Nobody’s thought about that since about April, so it must be time to drag it all out back into the open again, right?

Apparently so. Despite doing her best to lay low since being implicated in the vice ring that brought down New York Governor Eliot Spitzer by only being endlessly discussed by Donald Trump and appearing on a low-rent soft pornography DVD and almost getting her own TV show, Ashley Dupré has finally decided to break the silence that we’re told she’s apparently been keeping on a special edition of 20/20.

Perfect. This Ashley Dupré interview will have something for everyone, provided that a) you’re into the human interest side of political scandals, b) you’ve been in a coma since April and all of this still seems like news to you and c) prostitutes! Woo!

So what shocking and still completely newsworthy nuggets of fact does Ashley Dupré reveal in her 20/20 interview? ABC has more. And remember Ashley, extra points if you can phrase your answer in an unfortunate way:

Dupré told ABC News’ Diane Sawyer that she does not feel responsible for Spitzer’s downfall. “If it wasn’t me, it would have been someone else,” she said. “I was doing my job. I don’t feel that I brought him down.”

Very good. That was an impressively unfortunate way for a prostitute to discuss one of her clients. Full marks, Ashley.

But what of the future? Well, even though she’s so famous that she could probably live quite comfortably on a handful of blowjobs a year now, in the interview Ashley Dupré reveals that she has actually quit whoring to concentrate on establishing her singing career full-time.

It’s foolish for Ashley Dupré to want to switch from being a prostitute to being a pop star – the two professions are so far apart. After all, being a pop star involves brutal, near-constant degredation that saps your will to live and often leads to habitual drug use and grotty bunk-ups with middle-aged men who promise that they’ll help your career and… oh, wait.

Ashley Dupré’s going to be a brilliant pop star.

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Kerry Katona might whore herself out for reality TV shows and adverts for frozen prawn rings, but never for sex with men – and now that’s super-official!

Yesterday Kerry Katona won five-figure damages from The Sunday Mirror after it claimed that her mother was about to write a book claiming that Kerry was a massive prostitute before she became famous. Which obviously isn’t true for a number of reasons.

Firstly, anyone who’d consider buying a book by Kerry Katona’s mum about how Kerry Katona was a hooker is obviously stupid to the point of illiteracy, which tends not to be a good demographic to market books to. Secondly, and most importantly, Kerry Katona can’t have been a prostitute because most men would rather attack their own genitals with a claw-hammer than pay Kerry Katona cash to touch them with her hands or mouth.

Kerry Katona has been several things in her life – singer, actress, reality TV show star, fat idiot – but she has never ever been a prostitute. That’s because she’s already a bipolar, chainsmoking, recovering drug-addict who’s been held up at knifepoint and is in the middle of a vicious custody battle for her children that’s humiliatingly being played out in public. Being a prostitute on top of all that would just be over-egging the whole ‘bad mother’ vibe, wouldn’t it?

However, that didn’t stop The Sunday Mirror from claiming that Kerry Katona used to be a prostitute back in June. Actually that’s not strictly true. Rather than claim that Kerry Katona used to be a prostitute, the paper claimed that Kerry Katona’s mother was writing a book in which she’d claim that Kerry Katona used to be a prostitute. Which is completely different.

However, the article – given the headline ‘Betrayed by Mum: Kerry’s mother dishes the dirt in explosive new book’ – was still wrong enough for Kerry Katona to march the paper to court and get a great big stack of libel cash out of it, as The Sun reports:

David Price, mum-of-four Kerry’s solicitor-advocate, told London’s High Court the claim was “completely false”. He added: “Sue Katona has never alleged that the claimant worked as a prostitute.” He said the claim “particularly distressed” Kerry, 27, as it allegedly came from her mum, “giving it added credibility”.

In fact, more than writing a book about Kerry Katona’s hooker days, Old Ma Katona hadn’t even written a book or got a publishing deal in the first place. That sort of makes sense, because if Sue Katona is the woman responsible for making Kerry Katona the woman she is today, then we’d expect her manuscript to basically be just three sheets of dribble-covered Crayola scrawls. Although we could be wrong. Nobody sue us.

Besides, Kerry Katona doesn’t need books written by opportunistic third parties to reveal how much of an intrinsically terrible person she is – she’s already got her own MTV reality show, and that does the job perfectly well thank you very much.

So Kerry Katona has definitely never been a prostitute. That’s good news for Kerry but bad news for Iceland. It’d already planned out its next advertising campaign, you see, centred around Kerry Katona standing on a street corner in a miniskirt, leaning into cars to offer dirty old men bags of cook-from-frozen chicken strips and then being beaten up by her pimp.

Ashley Dupré doesn’t just get to have tawdry, regret-filled sex with every ugly old man that offers her cash any more, as if that wasn’t enough.

No, now Ashley Dupré gets to be on TV because of it as well, the lucky cow. Although up until now she was most famous for being the high-end prostitute who had sex with New York Governor Eliot Spitzer until he had to resign because of it, Ashley Dupré is apparently in talks to star in her own reality TV show.

Honestly, she is. As yet nobody seems to know if Ashley Dupré will star in a Simple Life-style fly-on-the-wall reality TV show or a Tila Tequila-style dating show, but at the moment the latter seems to be out in front. Quite right too, because that’s the only way that they’ll ever get to use the title Ashley Dupré: Who Wants Me To Kiss Them With The Same Mouth I Recently Had Wrapped Around A Bald Old Man’s Penis For Cash?

Kids, if you’re reading this then there’s something you should know. You’ll never accomplish anything by working hard. Maybe you’ll wind up with an anonymous middle-management job in a generic strip-lit office, but you’ll never really accomplish anything. For that you’d probably be better off becoming a whore.

That’s what Ashley Dupré did, and things are working out just dandy for her. Because, thanks to her gainful employment spent charging thousands of dollars for a series of businesslike, slightly depressing bunk-ups, Ashley Dupré is a megastar.

After news of the Spitzer scandal broke and she was outed as a hooker, Ashley Dupré has been busy fending off professional advances from Donald Trump while trying to keep a video of her whapping out her underage boobies from being released. She’s not a whore, you know. OK, technically she is a whore, but… look… oh, we’ve lost our point. She’s a whore. We think that was it.

More than that, though, Ashley Dupré is a whore with a reality TV show in the pipeline. What a lucky whore. The New York Daily News reports:

Ashley Dupré, 23, has been negotiating with Los Angeles-based Handprint Entertainment on a reality show, possibly one focusing on her dating men for free, E! News Online reported. The program would require Dupré to move to the West Coast, E! News claimed. “They’re talking to MTV about Ashley being the next Tila Tequila,” a source told E!

We honestly hope this reality TV show thing pans out for Ashley Dupré, because it would make our day to see her in a dating show. Just think of the demographic it’d attract – the exact venn diagram overlap of grubby blokes who don’t mind going on TV to publicly compete for the affections of a woman who lets men dick her for money and grubby blokes who want to sleep with prostitutes but can’t afford to. Genius.

And if Ashley Dupré can salvage her reputation with a reality TV show, then maybe Eliot Spitzer can do the same. Best of all, he’d probably do it for scraps of food at the moment.

There's an old saying that goes 'An Englishman's home is his castle, and if he ever wants to imprison a Scandinavian male prostitute in his castle against his wishes then that's probably OK'.

But sadly it seems like America, the so-called land of the free, has got some issues about people chaining male prostitutes to their walls and vaguely insulting them for a bit. Just ask Boy George.

Boy George is just about to set off on a tour of America, except that now he can't get a visa because of his upcoming prostitute-chaining trial. Not that Boy George should worry too much, though. We know for a fact that there are plenty of other countries who'll give you visas no matter how many terrified manwhores you've chained up to a wall in your sordid little sex dungeon. Um, we read that in a book or something once. Ahem.

These days you can get banned from America for just about everything. If you punch people you get banned from America, if you're a terminally habitual drug user you get banned from America, and now it seems that if you might have chained a prostitute to a wall once you get banned from America as well.

Weirdly, though, if you're Fearne Cotton you can just breeze through passport control without a care in the world despite your numerous atrocious crimes against humanity. It hardly seems fair at all.

And this utterly illogical immigration system has messed up Boy George's plans something horrible. All he wanted to do was go to New York and give a free concert to all the binmen who he managed to ritually humiliate by spazzing out like a girl that time he was forced to do community service with them, but now even that's been taken from him.

Why? Because there's a possibility that he chained up a Norwegian male prostitute in his house last year. Did we mention that? We did? Oh, whatever.

Although he denies the charges, Boy George's false imprisonment trial is set to start later this year. And because of that, Boy George has been denied an entry visa into America. We can see why – as far as we're able to tell, America is full of fat bald gay men with oddly-painted faces who enjoy nothing more than chaining prostitutes to their wall and threatening them, so there's a chance that Boy George might just blend into the crowd and never return – but Boy George is getting quite worked up about it, as the New York Times reports:

Boy George was “devastated” and that “George is astounded at the decision and is having lawyers here in the States look at it in the hope that someone will change their mind.” … The statement said, “George has not been convicted of anything in London, and there is a presumption in the Western world of innocence until proven guilty.”

Well, that's partly true – the presumption is innocent until proven guilty, unless the accusation involves chains, 1980s popstars and frightened homosexual prostitutes from Norway, in which case it's funny to just mention it as many times as possible regardless of how true it is.

So Boy George won't be going to America any more. And, as rough as Boy George has got it, it's not him we feel most sorry for. No, it's the New York binmen who won't get to see Boy George's concert any more. True, there's a chance that an alternative act who's also done community service with the binmen will be shipped in from overseas to compensate, but if that happens it's likely to be Naomi Campbell, and those poor refuse workers will be lucky to escape with their lives.