God, look at you all.
Sat there in your ostentatious Ivory Towers looking down on us in our hecklerspray hovel as we scrap around trying to pick a living from the meagre bones of underweight celebrities. You sit in judgement of us like a Feudal Lord views his peasants with seeming omniscience.
You sit there with your lucky dip box at the ready, it loaded with randomly generated insults and put-downs designed to make us feel like the lowest of the low, like the dog dirt on the shoe of the internet, like Tim Westwood. Your words are designed to cut, to hurt but are said with the best interests at heart. You want to protect your favourite celebrity because you know- deep down- that they’re too disinterested or stupid to defend themselves.
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Well, knock us down with a feather. It must be that time of the week again. The time when we force our hands into the stinking, wretched filth that comes into the hecklerspray mailbox.
To give you an idea of what our mailbag actually resembles, allow us to paint you a picture. With words. Imagine taking a bowl of delicious, ripe fruit and writing a series of misguided, offended or just plain idiotic messages on each pieces and then leaving it to rot. Then imagine putting the pulped, putrid remains of the fruit into a plastic carrier bag and leaving it in a very humid room for a couple of weeks.
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There’s been a few changes at hecklerspray, if you hadn’t noticed. There’s new writers coming in to give the old guard a kick up the arse, leaving the old guard to turn on the new boys and girls and beat them with a rubber hose to within an inch of their foetid little lives.
There’s nice pictures to look at of your favourite ‘sprayers, including this delightful image of Matthew Laidlow with some sexy dancers, dressed up in a super hero outfit. What more could you honestly ask for? Insightful and funny articles? You’re taking the piss with that, dear reader.
Anyway.
Click here to meet the writers of hecklerspray.
Twitter accounts are included if you’d like to offer sexual favours/advice/creams.
Hello readers. You’ll be no doubt aware that Stuart Heritage – man of the Hecklerspray house – has stopped editing this site. Our helpline has been flooded with prank calls and cries for help (mine included, see picture).
This means there’s a new editor for Hecklerspray and I’m really genuinely sorry to tell you that it is me. Mof Gimmers. Hopeless word administrator and all round good-fer-nuthin’. I’ve written for Hecklerspray for around 5 years, on and off, and now, they’re foolishly handing me the driving wheel despite my clear lack of license to do so.
Of course, this is terrible news for all concerned… so as my first gift to you, dear reader, I’ve provided you with a letter of complaint template over the jump to send to the dark overlords of the Hecklerspray estate. Read More >>>
You may have noticed this week, that our esteemed editor, Stuart Heritage, has been missing in action. Where has he been?
Some sources have been speculating that our Stu has been getting gender realignment surgery and will return to the fold as ‘Katerina’. Other sources have gone with the thinking that Stuart has been smuggling humans across a boarder in Asia in a lucrative deal.
However, all of these are completely untrue as we exclusively reveal where Stuart has been and what a massive failure he is. Read More >>>
We know we know…Stu’s gone and you don’t know what you’ll do.
You’re probably thinking of jumping in the shower with a toaster, or forcing yourself down the gullet of a large hungry fish – but know this – he’s on ‘vacation,’ or something.
Truth be told, he took some pills to make him lactate, and now he’s slowly working his way across poorest Africa – feeding all he can. We asked him before he left if he thought he’d mind the chafing, to which he clipped on his fanny-pack, looked towards the horizon and said ‘no.’
Don’t worry about him – he’ll be back Monday. Plus he brought a gun.
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