Another week, another loosely adhered to theme for Dancing on Ice. This week the theme was “Pop”, although really it should’ve been “Katarina Disagrees”. But that wouldn’t have fitted in so well with One Direction’s appearance, so pop it was.

Some teenage boys with suits and sideways hair weren’t going to stop Katarina, though. She has monumental cleavage AND Olympic medals. Nothing’s getting in her way.

Not even fellow Olympian Chemmy Alcott, who Katarina infamously called “big” a few weeks back, before begging her not to ever do any lifts ever again. Chemmy wasn’t having any of it though, and decided to do a handstand on her partner’s leg. Queen Katarina tried to pretend that she only wanted to keep Chemmy safe for the next Olympics. Nobody believed her.

Unlike Rosemary, who everyone believes all the time, bcause she’s lovely. Which is why the evil overlords of ITV decided that she had to be tipped upside down and spun round in circles until she was nearly sick all over the ice. Katarina loved it and gave her a seven. Everyone else was deeply, deeply indifferent.

As they were when Jennifer Ellison took to the ice. According to her VT, she needed to “go for it”, which is becoming such a recurring theme that we expect it will soon be given its own show. What Jennifer went for this week was some seriously unfortunate hair, supposedly because she was skating to ‘Vogue’. Really, we think the stylist just hates her.

Still, at least Jennifer can take comfort in the fact that the stylist hates Sam more. He was given a very, very dodgy blonde wig and made to skate to Wham. Which was presumably punishment for dropping his partner repeatedly in practice. Or for forcing everyone to see him in bed, as he did at start of his routine. It’s one or the other.

Despite his best efforts to traumatise the entire country, Sam still lost out on his attempt to become “Most Disturbing Person on Dacing on Ice”. Because Chico and Heidi were there.

Heidi skated to the caterwauling wreck that is Jessie J, and decided to pay homage through her wardrobe. Which was a catsuit. With spangles. On the vadge. Again.

Chico said the word “fluidity” and then donned a skin-tight silver t-shirt, leaving the entire country feeling more queasy than Rosemary after her upside-down-vom-spin. Robin told Chico to “keep something for himself”. We assume he meant the t-shirt. Please, please, make Chico keep that t-shirt for himself.

Whilst the midfield were battling their wardrobes, Jorgi and Matt were continuing their ice dance war. Except that it was a bit one-sided this week, because while Jorgi was skating around in a paedophile’s dream of a school uniform and getting top scores, Matt had ruined his back a bit.

Not really ruined, you understand. Just ruined enough to make him miss two days of training and struggle a bit with the sexual assault that is the sit lift. Robin and Louie thought he pulled it off. Katarina, shockingly, disagreed. She gave him 6.5 and a shake of her shoulder pads.

And then she ruined all of her credibility.

It all started when Andy came out and did a weird stomping dance to the Proclaimers. We were expecting Katarina and her bosom to point out that it was an awkward crock of dung, but instead she tried to tell everyone that it was entertaining. The lying bitch.

And she didn’t even try and stop Robin and Louie from throwing endless clichés at Sebastian. Apparently, he is on a journey, and has a lot to offer, and various other inane and predictable things. We were mostly just annoyed with him for trying a strange new jump and not falling over.

Also trying very, very hard not to fall over was Charlene, who was given a fast routine and a Lady Gaga outfit, which she then used to terrify everyone. It turns out that Charlene can do the splits. So she did. In the air. With her ladybits pointing at the camera. It was part of her attempt to ditch her status as the “skate-off queen” and get straight through to next week.

It didn’t work.  At all. Not even a little bit. Because she didn’t just end up in the skate off with Sam, she got booted off the show. So now we know; when middle-aged women flash their lycra-clad bits at you, bad things happen.

Now can someone please tell Madonna?

Hey! You know Julian Assange? What do you mean you don’t know who he is? He’s the man who leaks things. Allegedly, he leaks things all over people against their will (which he denies, natch). He also likes leaking documents which really gets up the nose of the world’s governments.

Sounds like a thrilling bloke, doesn’t he?

Well, the activist, currently under house arrest in the UK, is going to play himself in the 500th episode of The Simpsons. Yes really. We suspect he’s going to be very, very funny indeed. ‘He’ being Homer Simpson, not Julian Assange.

Apparently, Assange recorded his lines from a secret location, after show creator Matt Groening heard a rumour that he was interested in appearing on the television programme, according to The Telegraph.

The episode (airing in February) will see Homer and Marge hearing that Springfield residents have been holding secret meetings to evict the troublesome family from the town.

“The Simpsons go off the grid to this very rugged place where they meet [Assange], who’s sort of their new Flanders,” said Al Jean, executive producer of the show.

Then, in a really cheerful move, Assange then shows Homer a video of an Afghan wedding being bombed. No. We’re not making that up.

“He’s a controversial figure, and there’s a good reason he’s controversial,”Mr Jean told US journalists. “There was discussion internally whether or not to have him on the show, but ultimately we went ahead and did it.”

In other news, Julian Assange is due to appear at a hearing in the Supreme Court on Wednesday to appeal extradition to Sweden over sex crime allegations.

Is that officially funny now?

Ka-loo ka-lay everyone! It’s almost the end of the week, and just like Lenny Henry tells us on those awful hotel adverts, it’s almost time for the weekend. And what’s a weekend all about? Going out, getting trashed and generally being like those pesky kids from Skins, sitting around in your pants as much as you can in 48 hours.

It’s what sets us aside from the animals y’know. They can’t figure out the little hole bit for willies.

It’d be remiss, and frankly irresponsible of us, as your favourite website of all time ever in the history of Google, to not keep you occupied between your next bottle of something fizzy or yeasty. It’d be like the 1994 film, Baby’s Day Out. You clearly can’t be left to your own devices can you? Sometimes, just sometimes, you actually make us sorry to know you.

So, like sheep to a machine that would slice their throat and ceremoniously bleed them to death, ready to be skinned, chopped and packaged in cellophane for your delectation, this is what you should be watching over the upcoming weekend. Make sure you do watch it mind, there’ll be a quiz afterwards and we wouldn’t want you to look like a dick.

Friday

Martina Cole’s Lady Killers, ITV3, 9:00pm

Serial killers are big business. Knock up a book with a feisty female detective and a particularly gruesome killer and you could be on the Richard and Judy Summer Booklist; a heady accolade indeed. Reading about the reasons behind notorious killings can be entertaining for two reasons: to better understand the human condition and what drives it to such depraved extremes, and to get tips to pull off the perfect crime spree.

So to help us all in our rampages crime writer Martina Cole has created this series about six of the most notorious female killers in history. Tonight is the turn of Myra Hindley. Which is slightly by-the-by to be honest, because the star of the show is Cole herself, who is the exact opposite of what you’d expect a crime writer to be. She’s essentially a female Phil Mitchell. Gruffer than chewing a plate full of pebbles and more mannish than Fatima Whitbread, this woman is something great. Believe.

How The Brits Rocked America: Go West, BBC4, 9:00pm

How great is music from the 60s please?

We could’ve just left our look at BBC4’s Friday night of documentaries at that, because you’re probably already sold and setting your Sky+, but that would be bad journalism and that’s something we strive not to do at HS. Sometimes it just gets away from us, mainly due to Chris Brown saying and doing such stupid things.

The first episode is a new series looking at how British brands broke the illustrious US market in the 60s. So there’ll be lots of footage of The Beatles. Followed up by the also-rans that are The Hollies, Herman’s Hermits and The Animals. With contributions by Sir Paul McCartney, Peter Noone, Donovan and Micky Dolenz, this will be a lovely reminiscent look at an era that changed music forever. Swinging.

Saturday

TOTP2: The 60s, BBC2, 23:35pm

Not only content with watching almost every minute of The Beatles’ career last night, you can also see what else was going on during the 60s in this brain friendly summing up of the main songs to come from the 1960s. So we’re looking at Beat music, the opening shots of the British Invasion, some of the greatest blues music of all time, and psychedelia. We dare you to watch this and not feel a) completely at ease with yourself afterwards, and b) want to cave something sharp into Ed Sheeran’s face for ruining music for everyone.

Look forward to seeing Cilla Black, Dusty Springfield, Tom Jones, Sandie Shaw* (with no shoes probably) and Fleetwood Mac, and literally slatherings of Eurovision.

Airline: The Story Of Pan Am, BBC2, 10:00pm

Pan Am. A name synonymous with glamour and a woman knowing her place, that being at a man’s beckon call. It means a lot of things, to a lot of people. Clever people who know things like history and economy. And luckily for you dense collections of cells, they’ve made a lovely documentary for you to stick your telly balls at. Generous, generous people, them at the BBC. Find out how Pan Am kick started a new age of travel and managed to shrink the World, and made jaunty hats the absolute bee’s knees. Also, Honor Blackman narrates it. She was in The Upper Hand, so that’s got to count for something. It had a McGann in it.

Sunday

The Only Way Is Essex, ITV2, 10:00pm

The hecklerspray bedsit is literally a-buzz this weekend. But aside from the boiler that we can’t afford to get fixed, it’s because we’re all excited about the return of the The Only Way Is Essex in our lives. We love it. The way that they’re all vacuous, spunk trumpets keeps us so entertained week after week.

It’s all go down Essex way with Mark Wright, Harry Derbridge, Kirk Norcross, Maria Fowler and those arseholes Greek twins hanging up their Tanfastic clubcards and handing the reins of crazy orange madness to a massive twelve new cast members. Not much is known about the new additions, because they’ve only recently being let out of their test tubes for filming, but one is bezzie with Rochelle Wiseman, who professionally blows the tall one from JLS, and the other is best friend of Joey Essex. A man so unusually retarded that even dogs can pick things up faster than him. He’s got the intelligence of an orange. Bunch of pricks; entertaining, self hating pricks.

The TV Book Club, More4, 7:10pm

Panel shows are dreadful aren’t they? The way that they are almost exclusively populated by male comedians thinking that they are the funniest people on the planet even though it’s only differing versions of Hugh Dennis and Russell Howard. And the way that they are edited to within an inch of their existence by overzealous producers is sickening. It makes us physically sick. We have to have the sick bucket next to us whenever we attempt to watch Mock The Week.

The TV Book Club is different to the tired format which the BBC wank themselves rare over, and there’s a new series starting on More4, with new Caroline Quentin and Meera Syal joining regular hosts Dave Spikey (urgh) and Laila Rouass (indifferent) to talk about S.J. Watson’s ‘Before I Go To Sleep.’ And without a boss eyed splat of jizz in sight.

* HS FACT: Despite already being called the fantastically geographical Sandy Shore, she wanted to take it to the next level and snared fashion designer and Clothes Show megastar Jeff Banks, and became…DUN DUN DERR…Sandie Banks. FAS-CI-NA-TING.

And-roid Warhol. A psychedelic treehouse. A tank made of cheese. If there were any words we could employ to try and sway you into watching Noel Fielding’s newest “offering”, it would be these.

They show us many, many things. That Noel Fielding is sticking to his tried and tested roots of clashing the realistic with the absurd, with brain warping determination. That he clearly takes himself either far too seriously, or not serious enough. And that there clearly isn’t such a thing as flogging a dead equine.

We all liked The Mighty Boosh, that was unashamedly brilliant [No we didn't. Some of us hated it and everyone who watched it.  Ed]. Everything from the ground to The Moon was dead-on: keep things simple and fun and show everyone why Caroline Quentin probably shouldn’t be in a mismatched family unit. The mixture of boring situations clashing with fantastical characters kept us coming back for more. But Luxury Comedy seems trite and, slightly forced. Watch. Watch us how we’re magically become Noel Fielding.

“Papier-mache hedgehogs burrowing into Dave Carpets The Carpenter Apprentice afro play banjoleles about not being about to return a pair of combats to a shop because the mandatory 28-day guarantee was up.”

It’s as easy as guessing the lie detector results on Jeremy Kyle. Anyone can do it. But Fielding and Barratt (his cohort on The Mighty Boosh) were a living embodiment, almost of the ethos, behind it.

They looked the absurd parts. But with Barratt off fathering twins and doing other more serious things, it lacks the physical oomph that the straight laced, depressing Howard Moon brought. With no grounding force of banality to keep Fielding grounded, it loses some of it’s individuality. Actually, Fielding loses some of his individuality at the same time. Oddly.

The problem is that the formula behind Fielding’s comedy is flawless; take something ordinary and make it look as out of place as possible, then add a dark undertone (which is where the best jokes always lie: just look at Nighty Night – incidentally created by Julian Barratt’s wife, Julia Davis). Which is great.

But eventually, seeing bizarre things becomes routine and ordinary. Which is where Fielding seems to have failed. There was nothing new, or groundbreaking about this foray on a new channel. You can sum it up by one word. One word that Noel Fielding probably never needs to use because all of his clothes seem to look uncomfortable to wear. Like you would want everyone to have a quick peek at your balls.

Unfortunately, and it does hurt us to say this, but Noel Fielding’s Luxury Comedy is stereotyped. You know what you’re getting with it. It does what it says on the tin, except the ‘Comedy’ part. Or the ‘Luxury’.

So ‘Noel Fielding’ then.

Shame. We’ll always have Mod Foxes.

Simon Cowell has made stars of boybands, Chico, Susan Boyle and a variety of completely forgettable singers like Steve Brookstein, Leon Thingy and DooDah Sneddon. Possibly. We’re get all those talent shows confused these days.

So what’s his next move? Well, apart from publicly wooing Cheryl Cole again (presumably Kelly Rowland can’t be bothered saying ‘boo’/sitting next to the bizarre Tulisa on the X Factor next year), he’s decided he’s going to make a talent show about DJs.

Seriously. While this may pique the interest of some, there’s little chance it could work in a primetime format… surely?

The music vampire-cum-mogul is launching a new talent competition to find the world’s best DJs.

Cowell says:

“DJ’s are the new rock stars, it feels like the right time to make this show”

So what kind of thing will the DJs be doing, to showcase how brilliant they are? Of course, the best DJs show off their skills  over a series of hours when they promote then play a set for a dancefloor filled with people. Will the show be around 40 hours long while a variety of DJs try and make a crowd go nutso?

Of course, the most notorious way for a DJ to show-off is to scratch. For those that don’t know, there’s a variety of ways to approach scratching. There’s the usual thd-dghgdggy-thd stuff, as well as the infamous wiki-wiki-frrssshh scratch. But that wouldn’t make much of a show.

There’s more showy people out there who can do things like this…

Or beat juggle like this…

In which case, if that’s what Cowell is going for, then he’s trying to reinvent the DMC Championships which, as brilliant as it is, isn’t going to be winning over any primetime mums and nanas any time soon, is it?

Away from that, Cowell wants Cheryl Cole back in his loving, tender, televisual embrace. When asked whether Cheryl could potentially return to the ITV1 programme, he said:

“She could be a panellist again if she wanted to – 100 per cent. I don’t know if she would. I think she probably misses me.”

Whatever. She’s off washing her hair for money. We’re more interested in what Cowell plans to do for DJing. Will we see a good-looking DJ getting off a stool for the key-change?

Oh god. Cowell is thinking of DJ Talent isn’t he?

Downton Abbey is great for many reasons: its faithful commitment to anachronism, its stringent adhesion to the patriarchal values of an aristocratic class that should by all rights be extinct and, of course, all the lovely shiny things. 

If you’re a magpie, or a viewer in possession of a lower than average IQ, you probably spent the heavily-ad-breaked episodes of Downton thinking only of the shiny things, whilst occasionally wondering how Michelle Dockery keeps her face so very, very immobile.

Well, guess what, stupid magpie folk: you can buy replicas of all the shiny things you saw on those ass-kicking Edwardian heroines! From a knotted pearl necklace (quiet at the back) as modelled by Lavinia before she died the lamest death ever, to Lady Sybil’s token feminist gesture earrings, it’s all here! There’s also a cloche hat, for if you like Downton but also take fashion cues from Notting Hill circa 2005. Oh, and a teapot and mug set.

The collection isn’t actually licensed by the Downton Machine Conglomerate (or Carnival Films, whatever), who got predictably sniffy about not making any profit from the collection.

Julian ‘richer than Croesus’ Fellowes was likely too furious to make any comment other than a strangled aristo sputter, so the production company said this:

“We did not authorise the sale of Lady Mary jewellery. Our lawyers have been in contact with PBS in order to remove these items from sale.”

The items haven’t been removed, but all mention of Downton characters has. Which is actually a good thing. You might think it romantic to buy your wife a Lady Mary or Lady Edith necklace, but what you’re saying there is that she’s either a cold bitch who’d fuck a Turkish diplomat to death, or a plain ginger who is destined to a lifetime of spinsterhood and put downs from Dame Maggie Smith.

Speaking of Dame Maggie, where’s the Dowager Violet Hat and Cane set, eh? Ageist bastards.

This was written by Becca Day Preston with her own blood

It’s soap spoiling time again you lucky people!  Once again we’ve been held at gunpoint and forced to write stuff about something we’d only care less about if we were dead. Want to know what exciting things happen in Hollyoaks this week?  Tough. We didn’t include them.

As usual we’re off to Eastenders first and before we give you this weeks predictable spoilers, we’d like to jump up and down topless in appreciation of Kim, who’s near death rubbish pile romance scene with Ray was our highlight of last week.

This week Ben’s hilarious plan to get his dad arrested has finally worked. Yes Phil Mitchell has been charged with the murder of Stella in a plot so drawn-out we had to look on YouTube to remember what actually happened. We’re still not sure.  However, the smug grin is soon wiped off his face when Shirley throws him out and he’s forced to go and live with Ian Beale and as you all know, when you move in with Ian you have to marry him – it’s Eastenders law.

Anyway, it seems that once upon a time, Bianca managed to sleep with someone who wasn’t completely unattractive! New face Ray is determined to be a dad to Morgan and offers to cook dinner for the Butchers. He then reveals he has a daughter called Sasha and Bianca isn’t happy. OH THERE’S A SHOCKER.  Still, our protests last week seem to have worked and Ricky has pissed off, so hopefully Bianca will be next.

Elsewhere, Tanya and Jane fall out over her plans to go to Wales, Lucy confronts Mandy over her secret phone calls and Derek gives Ben a jumper. This isn’t a euphemism.

Next we go to Coronation Street because you lot moan when we don’t write about it. Tracy and Steve get married this week and as Tracy is a scheming, lying villain, you know this won’t end well or have any comedy value whatsoever. Yes Becky gatecrashes the church to tell Steve that Tracy is all of those things we’ve just mentioned and manages to ruin the whole bloody charade.  Don’t fret though, BECKY IS LEAVING! We’ve already put bunting up in the hecklerspray bedsit as between her and Ricky Butcher being removed from our televisons, we haven’t been this happy in a long time. Pete and Carla share some really unconvincing kisses and plan a secret hotel rendezvous so they can engage in some really mediocre sex acts. What they don’t know is that Frank has a private investigator following them, called Trish.  Trish?

Trish was always one step ahead.

Finally, despite the fact we haven’t watched Neighbours in 25 years, we’ll still tell you stuff as you obviously haven’t moved on.  First of all, Guy Pearce is a brilliant actor. He’s done really well for himself hasn’t he? Sadly he’s not in Neighbours anymore, but do you know who still is? Stefan Dennis, aka Paul Robinson.  This week he puts together his case to fight for Kate’s career. We don’t know who Kate is but you probably do so that’s all that matters. Emilia teaches Tash some Wiccan method called ‘grounding’ which hopefully involves her being buried alive somewhere and someone called Chris is gay.

It’s fair to say we’ve all learned something important this week.

Anyway, let us end this excuse for a feature with a video of a soap star doing something they should be particularly ashamed of.

Expect more of these.

Life is hard for many people for much of the time. But we all deal with it in different ways. Some people take solace in religion; placing their happiness in never seeing a ghost. They’d rather have a piece of toast and watch the evening news. Those people are idiots and mediocre ’90s pop stars.

Some people turn to alcohol or narcotics, like many a disgraced celebrity or role model. Would it surprise you to hear that a member of the hecklerspray bedsit likes to drink a bath of gin before singing the chorus from ‘I Know Him So Well’ from the musical Chess? Would it surprise you that it’s Matthew Laidlow?

Whereas some people get happy by watching television and seeing that no matter how hard life can be; unemployment is at record high, there’s cruise liners capsizing and you’ll never be good enough for your partner, but no matter how hard life can be, you’ll still be better than the people you’ll see on TV. Fat Pat carking it? You’re better than her. Not sure which of 12 potential men is the father of your child? You’re better than her. Women chef overcooked her souffles and is now having a massive breakdown? You’re better than her as well.

Allow us to show you the best things that is going on in the World of TV. Or not. Maybe you’d like to go back to having an awful life.

Perhaps you like feeling sorry for yourself.

Well we’ll not be having that, so be on your way. Read on if you want to be a happy and healthy individual, or entertained.

Friday

Paul Simon: Live At Webster Hall, New York, Friday, BBC Four, 9:00pm

Everyone has a soft spot for Simon & Garfunkel. Where would we be without ‘Bright Eyes’ instilling a fear of angry looking rabbits. Or ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’ reminding us how completely awful Stephen Gateley’s solo career was. And ‘Homeward Bound’ being the theme tune to anyone’s long train journey home. Well the terrorists would’ve won wouldn’t they? And we don’t want that now do we. Simon and Garfunkel shaped the way that normal people view music, we wouldn’t have most of the folk output if they hadn’t been maudlin folk heroes.

This show, admittedly has 100% less Garfunkel than what we would like, but still contains 100,000% (that’s Jeremy Kyle maths there kids) of Paul Simon. Recorded in June 2011, just seven whole months ago, following his ‘So Beautiful or So What’. Expect lots of songs that you’ve not heard before, but at the same time some of the biggest hits that Simon has pumped into the public consciousness, like a giant vacuum of fart. Will Ladysmith Black Mambazo appear? Like we’d spoil that for you. What do you think we are? Monstrous layabouts with nothing else to do but tell you the current whereabouts of Ladysmith Black Mambazo?

If you like that sort of thing, BBC Four has a whole night dedicated to the giants of folk as well.

Al Murray: Giving It Both Barrels, Friday, Dave, 9:00pm

Enjoy having your intelligence insulted by an overweight man who takes on the persona so unpleasant that even Jeremy Clarkson would be calling the Daily Mail in complaint, after asking everyone “What do you call and Indian with bacon on his head?” Do you like people who make jokes about being the slightest bit effeminate? Or liking drinks that aren’t created from some horrible yeasty nonsense? No, us either.

But if you do want to sit, staring incredulously at the screen for an hour and a half and think “Christ on a trike, isn’t this dated” then this is definitely for you. Listen to Al Murray as he dusts off his tired persona of the Pub Landlord and shouts at people in the audience, while drinking something called stout and talking about how Britain is different from what it might have been a few decades ago. Watch as the realisation that he’s never going to find a career peak as high as this never dawns over his face. Smell the awful beer farts and Lynx Africa from the losers in the audience.

Saturday

The Magicians, Saturday, BBC One, 6:35pm

We at the Hecklerspray bedsit, love magic. We spend literally hours trying to make coins disappear behind each other’s ears. It’s got to the stage where otorhinolaryngologists at our local A&E know us each by name. We love it so much that at a Christmas party, a magician stole our watch from right under our nose and we let him keep it as a thank you. The trick was that the watch was stolen all along. Take that Magic Mick!

So as you can imagine, we have been thrilled with all these magic based entertainment shows that everyone has been ramming down our throats. But The Magicians is slightly different because it isn’t just a vanilla trot-out-make-a-girl-disappear-who-then-turns-up-dead-in-a-canal-later-that-night. This one has professional magicians (apparently there’s more than Paul Daniels and Dynamo) taking celebrities under their wings and teaching them to do tricks of their own. Sounds like something The Magic Circle would get their removable knickers in a twist, but whatevs. This week there’s one half of Mel & Sue, Mel, David Haye and Kimberley Wyatt, who we’re reliably told used to be in the Pussycat Dolls, but obviously she’s not Nicole Sherzinger so no one cares.

The Jonathan Ross Show, Saturday, ITV 1, 9:15pm

Like him or not, Jonathan Ross is still going strong after his misdemeanors with Russell Brand and David Cameron, and has had success with his ITV chatshow. Tonight’s show has Famous Harry Potter Penis, Daniel Radcliffe spouting various guff about the theatre and how it’s a living, breathing organism as well as ‘The Woman In Black’ which is the new film he’s peddling; Noel Fielding talks about his new show ‘Luxury Comedy’ and David Attenborough blows a kidney telling everyone that the scenes from Frozen Planet which everyone got into a right tizz about might have been faked after all, but that’s alright because it’s the better alternative than being ripped open by angry polar bears.

Sunday

Hugh’s Three Hungry Boys, Sunday, Channel Four, 7:00pm

What’s worse than a self-opinionated nancy chef advocating oven-dried tomatoes and pallet squashed chicken? Three of that chef’s proteges. Which is precisely what this is. Following the progress of Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall’s three friends, Thom, Tim and Trevor Whittington Smythe Rara Oopsilon the Third, Fourth and Fifth, as they travel around South West England, foraging off the ground that they walk on, and probably own. Unashamedly scripted, and not even that convincing, the rise of faux-danger is making cooking programmes into one homogenous blur, presented by the same person but with different haircuts. “Will they get the sourbread to the Orthodox rabbi by sundown?” “How is she going to manage to make twelve scones in three hours, while balancing on a thin strip of rope and reciting Pi?” One time Mary Berry defeated a whole ship of ravaging pirates, and still managed to deliver a chocolate truffle torte to the head of Westminster’s WI.

Ben Elton: Laughing At The 80s, Sunday, Channel Four, 11:40pm

Have you seen the awful one off comedy shows on BBC One that are attempting to remind people that Lenny Henry, Jasper Carrott and Griff Rhys exist still? They’re very bad indeed. But those cheap one off specials do remind us of one thing; comedy in the 80s was sometimes really fantastic. Which is just what this documentary looks at. Which you can probably tell. You’re not stupid are you?

Presented by Ben Elton, who obviously co-wrote The Young Ones and Blackadder, who meets some of the biggest names in alternative comedy, so expect to hear funny things from Harry Enfield, Jimmy Tarbuck, Rik Mayall, Victoria Wood, French and Saunders and maybe some seagull noises from Lenny Henry. Has anyone figured out what that’s about? No wonder Dawn French wants nothing to do with him.

It’s not every day that someone will dedicate literally minutes of their time watching upcoming things on TV to tell you whether what they’ve watched is good, not so good, or the equivalent of getting your toes stapled and then having aforementioned staples removed by the blind nuns that secretly made Kate Middleton’s wedding dress while they sloppily down pints of homemade lemonade.

No-one takes the time to sit down and tell us what’s actually good, and more appropriately what has the most emotional resonance and character development in it; instead it’s just flash in the pan reactions to developments in the soaps or whatever drama is getting the Daily Mail’s “We’re Not Racist But…” full brief pantaloons in a twist. Or even what coke snorting gnome, Frankie Cocozza is up to. TV is important business everybody! It teaches children how to read and speak, as well as to fear larger women who have chandelier earrings and make-up like Salvador Dali.

Actually, scratch that. There’s a reason no-one spends the time to dissect episodes of Outnumbered or whatever nauseating  film Channel 4 stick on at daft o’clock. It’s a waste of time. So allow us, dear hecklerspray readers, to guide you through the perilous TV guide and point out what you should, or shouldn’t be watching this weekend.

FRIDAY

Hustle, BBC One, Friday, 13th January, 9pm

The final series of The Hustle is eventually upon us. And it’s inevitably raised some questions. Will the team sail off into the sunset with funds stolen from someone else’s bank account? Will Jamie Murray follow her dad, Billy Murray, into the Injury Lawyers 4 U adverts, or possibly the sequel to Strippers vs Werewolves? Will Matt Di Angelo become anything other than a blight on British drama? Well the answers to all these questions will be revealed eventually as the team take on the big business of dieting pills and even attempt a gold heist. Sounds dreadful doesn’t it?

Candyman: Farewell To The Flesh, Channel 4, Friday 13th January, 12.05am

Okay, strictly speaking, it’s on Saturday… but SHUT UP. Anyway, bad slasher films make or break a Friday night don’t they; and this one is particularly unpleasant. The sequel to 1992’s Candyman, this time the Candyman goes on holiday to New Orleans just in time for the boob baringly brilliant Mardi Gras. Seems like a great addition to the National Lampoon franchise doesn’t it? Well it’s not as grim as that, it would never have been passed through the BBFC with a racist lynch mob with added bees and Chevy Chase’s gurning facade. And there’s even an Agatha Christie style family mystery which helps the film trudge along slightly (and something for the women, am I right men?). But there’s still lots of blood and hot hook-on-man action if that doesn’t take your fancy. It’s not a great film, but we’d like to see you do better. Go on. We’ll wait.

SATURDAY

Fantastic Four: Rise Of The Silver Surfer, Channel 4, Saturday 14th January, 7.45pm

Comic book films are big business, with more and more getting greenlit by greedy movie studios. Some are good; Kick Ass, X-Men: First Class, 12 Angry Men (where one is The Punisher), whereas some are like cancerous limpets on the successful cash cow. This is a particularly big limpet. It continues the story of Marvel’s Fantastic First Family and introduces the galactic hero of sorts The Silver Surfer and the supervillain, Galactus. Except it isn’t Galactus as you would want to see him, with big purple horns and planet sucking hoses. He lacks any sort of menacing presence. Or any physical presence at all in fact. He’s a giant purple cloud that has the same level of danger as a really noxious fart. A fart so heinous that it can strip wallpaper at thirty feet. A fart so disgusting that the time that it takes to dissipate will be given it’s own name; like the Dark Ages, or When Someone Shot Phil Mitchell And It Turned Out To Be Lisa Beale Even Though It Should Have Been Dan.

If you’ve nothing else to do, this could be a good way to kill a few hours, and you’ll learn how not to make a really awful superhero film. It does have Stan Lee so you can be making the most of that before he kicks his slippers off and goes to the great Avengers Tower In The Sky.

Borgen, BBC Four, Saturday 14th January, 9pm

When it comes to Danish drama, The Killing ruled the roost. Everyone wanted to be it. Topman even released a horde of jumpers over Christmas to cure the Sarah Lund shaped gap in the market. Wallander wishes it was The Killing. Well there’s a new kid in town, and that doesn’t mess around with making a jumper more famous than whatever is going on in the show (admit it, you’re thinking it too). This kid is one of those 1 in 10 kids that claims they’ve had a terrible childhood just because they didn’t get an iPhone for Christmas or was touched by their uncle that one which they won’t stop going on about. That kid is Borgen.

Set in and around the Christianborg Palaces, which is the Danish version of House of Lords and Parliament and Downing Street combined in one bomb friendly location, Borgen follows the not so hilarious exploits of Prime Minister Brigitte Nyborg. Think The Thick Of It but without the funny bits with a couple of crimes thrown in as well. Cerebral, subtitled and unashamedly clever, give it a whirl.

SUNDAY

Sherlock, BBC One, Sunday 15th January, 9pm

If you haven’t been watching this series of Sherlock then you should probably go and lock yourself in a room and forgot about continuing with what we call “living” because you’re completely wasting your life. We’ve all heard and read about Sherlock to such a degree that we’re not going to waste your ear time by repeating it; Stephen Moffatt, Benedict Cucumbersnatch, moving text on screen; blah blah blah. This is the last episode in a criminally short series, and it is a somewhat liberal adaptation of The Reichenbach Fall, which was originally called “The Final Problem” but that’s a bit genocidey and not really a perfect theme for Sunday night viewing. Even The Antiques Roadshow turns Nazi gold away.

“The Final Problem” was originally going to be the final Sherlock Holmes story; Conan Doyle wanted to spend some time catching up on Coronation Street and finishing his knitting. But public pressure forced him to take up his pen once more, but no one cares about that now. Could the final Sherlock result in the death of the titular character and his nemesis, the gorgeous Moriarty? Well only time will tell. If it was up to us, we would have Sherlock and Moriarty fall into the waterfall but be saved by a family of flying geese who take them to the Moon where they can start a new life together, away from the stresses and public opinion of gay relationships. Look at Cumberbatch’s face. Doesn’t he deserve some happiness? He looks like some carved his face out of chalk.

Call The Midwife, BBC One, Sunday 15th January, 8pm

If you’ve ever had the misfortune of seeing Cranford, Larkrise To Candleford or whatever Elizabeth Gaskell novel BBC is shilling as lazy Sunday night drama, then you’ll know what to expect here. Melodramatic women, forced nostalgia, and because it’s aimed at women (because it’s all about midwives) it’s going to mean that you’re mam and nan are going to be creaming whatever is left in their knickers over it. Total snoozefest for anyone with a Y chromosome.

Directed by the person to blame for Downtown Abbey, Julian Fellowes, Call The Midwife will be a hit for anyone who knows a woman of a certain age (read: old) who a) remembers life in the 50s, or b) yearns for a simpler existence where the most complicated thing a woman had to worry about was how to discreetly get her feminine hygiene products back into the house without being branded a harlot, strung up from the nearest police box and pelted with loafs of unleavened bread.

And that’s your lot you losers. We’ve got two films, and a shedload of drama for you to get your teeth stuck into, so don’t let us catch you on Twitter saying that there’s nothing on TV over the weekend.

And if nothing here takes your fancy, well I’m sure you can catch a repeat of My Family on Dave Ja Vu.

Death is a certainty. It’s one of those things that you can’t escape from, like Witch Mountain. Or Monkey Island. Eventually, just like the rhythm, it’s going to get you. Don’t fight the inevitable readers – roll over and take out as many people as you can. It’s what Guy Fawkes would have wanted.

Sometimes death is sad. Remember when Helen Daniels fell asleep and Hannah couldn’t wake her up? Gutting. Or when that one off Cold Feet was hit by the truck while she was talking on her mobile phone. Tearful. But we wouldn’t be antisocial enough to want to see them back. Anne Haddy had her chance and she blew it. Big style.

But sometimes death is good. It allows us to never have to see some things again. One of these things is Tim Lovejoy’s narcissistic misogyny and Louise Redknapp’s amazing ability to successfully imitate wet cardboard. We were all glad when Something For The Weekend was cancelled weren’t we?

It meant that we didn’t have to see Lovejoy patronise and denigrate the poor women who spent time to research and develop ideas for a major BBC show and struggle with a hangover. Or listen to Louise Redknapp agree with almost everything that every guest ever said about anything ever before adding some piece of banal information that no-one will ever care about. Which will only be followed by an awkward silence as Lovejoy’s innate arsewipe tendencies surface again.

Well, some people on Facebook have decided that they would like to see Tim Lovejoy do the best impression of an Awful Person since Jade Goody did that racist thing that time.

21,000 twats in fact.

And it’s even prompted ITV to enquire about retaining the presenting team and repurposing the package for their own nefarious needs. Sounds dreadful doesn’t it? What’s worse than Tim Lovejoy and Louise Redknapp being shit? Tim Lovejoy and Christine Bleakley, that’s what. Blood pressures across the country would rocket. It might even prompt some people to have some sort of coronary episode. Is that what you want? People will die.

Saving Something For The Weekend will result in deaths. We’re telling you now.

Join us at hecklerspray and make sure Tim Lovejoy, a man’s who’s overconfidence is only outmatched by his swollen-headed buffoonering antipathy for all woman.

We heard he thought Emmeline Pankhurst only acted up because she was on her period. Just saying.

Hello soap fans!! Missed us? No, we didn’t give you a second thought either but now that we’ve just about recovered from Pat’s quick, yet annoyingly drawn out death, we’re back to spoil everything for you and tell you what’s going to happen this week. But first here’s a little catch up.

Did we mention that Pat was dead? Well she is. Her last moments were spent in bed with a soaking wet Michael French shouting “MUM!” 2cm from her face, weighed down by monstrous earrings, desperately clinging to a script that would never end while the country secretly wished that David Essex would appear from the wardrobe singing ‘Oh What a Circus.’

Sadly, not even fake son number 2 Nick Berry could be bothered to turn in the Vic and play ‘Every Loser Wins’ on the piano so off she popped and now we all have the funeral to look forward to (40 sodding minutes of funeral time on Friday viewers. You have been warned.)

Up to speed then? Good.

This week on Albert Square, David and Carol decide that they still love each other, much to the dismay of her evil brother Derek who is quite frankly the best villain to grace the Square since that dastardly Wilmot Brown fella in 1872.

He tells David that he’s still going to continue being a rotter regardless and David enlists the help of Michael ‘sometimes my smile is quite alarming’ Moon to get rid of Derek. However after a bungled stitch up, David decides to run away and asks Carol to go with him. But will she go? WE DON’T CARE.

Meanwhile Janine saves the day when she agrees to pay for Pat’s funeral, buy Pat’s house so that the most annoying family on television can rent it from her and even says something heartfelt at Pat’s funeral. We don’t like helpful Janine and we hope she gives birth to a demon who will raise Frank Butcher from the dead and slap some sense into her.

Lucy comes back for Pat’s funeral this week with a completely new face and no-one seems to notice.  She then demands to know who Mandy is, decides she doesn’t like her and plots to get rid of her. We doubt it’ll be a LETS SET FIRE TO EVERYONE! storyline like Yusef had but we hope it involves some sort of murderous rage.

Lauren gets dumped by Tyler as he really loves astoundingly thick Whitney. She get pissed and threatens to jump out of her bedroom window but her fringe blocks her view and her parents realise it’s time to take action but probably won’t as good parenting is forbidden on Eastenders.

When Morgan questions his skin colour and asks who his father is,  Bianca tells him it’s Barack Obama and someone on the script-writing team gets fired.  Whitney then plays detective and tracks down Morgan’s father Ray who doesn’t know he has a son and a new, recurring character klaxon sounds somewhere in the distance.

Elsewhere, Bianca tells Ricky it’s over for the millionth time, Tiffany is terrified that Pat is haunting the Butcher house (we hope this is true) and Pat’s coffin gets dragged outside to the tune of ‘Sweet Caroline’ which is just plain weird.

Oh, and the other soaps just don’t matter. Apart from Brendan Brady in Hollyoaks who is the best thing the world has ever seen.

It’s been such a difficult few weeks for poor Kim Kardashian. First her loving marriage breaks down in a record 72 days and had to deal with everyone and their petit chien saying that the marriage was a sham. Then her clothing line gets slated by lamb loving, angry at seal clubbing, children’s rights groups because they are supposed to be made in Chinese sweat shops.

And now it seems that Kimmy Kardash has been fiddling with someone else’s willy and balls while she was seeing Reggie Bush. It isn’t just any old two bit estate agent (or “realtor” as those crazy Yanks call them) though. Oh no, it’s douche-cock extraordinaire Kanye West isn’t it?

Get those smelling salts out.

Ultra-alopecia and ex-Kanye sex sufferer Amber Rose has came forward and told everyone who’d listen that while Kimothy Klux Kardashian was seeing NFL star or something, Reggie Bush, she was also seeing West, while they were dating.

“She’s a homewrecker! They were both cheating. They were both cheating on me and Reggie with each other. She was sending pictures, and I was like, “Kim, just stop. Don’t be that person”"

That’s what Rose told almost everyone before waxing lyrical about her new love, who we don’t care about.

Now, this isn’t going to make much of an impact on the reputation of the Kris Jenner Sex Worker Sect, there’s still other members of the family to be flaunted.

Maybe Jenner could get Khloe to have an affair with Prince William (alas, with Kanye in the fray and rumours of Kobe Bryant getting salivated over, she really does seems to be only choosing people who have names that begin with K) or use Kim’s arse as advertising space for Pepsi, they’ve clearly got as much self-respect as cockroaches.

And just like cockroaches, it’ll be the Kardashians who come out on top after the Apocalypse, flaunting radiation burns and cholera as the new fashion, while taking their pick of the mutated.

Who’ll probably still be much better in bed than that Kanye West.

Poor Kim Kardashian. Aside from being bafflingly influential and disgustingly wealthy, she’s had a troubling 2011. Remember people accusing her and her family of dealing with sweat shops? Remember her 40 second marriage to some hoop chucking dillweed?

Well, that’s all about to change!

Yessum, 2011 has taught Kimly Kim K that, if things are going to get better, then she has learned that she need ‘to always follow her heart.’ All she has to do now is grow one.

The Famous For No Discernible Reason Human got into the spirit of New Year as she partied with her mother, Kris Jenner, at Tao Las Vegas. Wait. That’s not right. That’s what losers do. What kind of dweeb hangs around with their own mother on the one night you’re encouraged to drink your liver deathward and tap off with people you’ve just met?

Either way, People magazine have quoted her as saying:

“I learned to always follow my heart”

How bad did things get? Well, more awful than you can ever imagine. Not only did she move in with her mother, but she also… and this is incredibly difficult to write… she didn’t wear any make-up over the Christmas period. She said:

“I didn’t wear a stitch of make-up”

Because she wears so much of the stuff, we can only assume that her real, naked head is roughly the same size and a half-melted peanut M&M, like that guy from Beetlejuice.

Either way, stood in her thigh-high Gucci dress and Loren jewels, she’s now ready to move on.

“I’m looking forward to moving forward, and never looking back”

“Who else is soooo ready to let go of 2011 and have the best 2012 ever!”

Yay! Here’s to all those other people who have had a disastrous PR year in the fallout of a sham marriage! And there’s been quite a few of those!

Y’know, once upon a time, we would’ve speculated about the gayness of the people involved in these convenient marriages wouldn’t we?

We are all getting far too lazy.

The Klan Kardashian got a lovely message for the holiday season from a human rights organisation. Where they just exchanging pleasantries? Of course not. Human rights organisation are always serious, always fretting and forever shouting about stuff.

Assuming that they weren’t offering high-fives to the Kardashians, we have to ask: What have they supposed to have done now?

Well, some group in hemp hats claim that the reality TV dimwits’ clothing lines are manufactured in horrific Chinese sweatshops where the workers are “abused and virtually imprisoned.” Still, at least Kim K is getting aroused. By brutal sweatshops or something else?

Charles Kernaghan, executive director of the Institute for Global Labour and Human Rights, says:

“The Kardashians are in bed with some pretty bad people…”

No. They aren’t talking about Kim’s sextape with Ray J.

“I would be clearly stunned if these factories were even minimally decent, because that isn’t how China operates”

The Kardashians apparently make $65 million a year from junk like this, and will be hoping that all this is just plain wrong. However, the clothing lines (which include include K-Dash by Kardashian, ShoeDazzle, and the Kris Jenner Kollection for QVC) are allegedly made in foreign sweatshops, where workers are subject to “inhumane conditions.”

Kernaghan continued:

“You can’t talk during working hours. You can’t listen to music; you can’t stand up and stretch. You can’t even put your head up and look around, or you will be screamed at. If you get permission to use the toilet, you get four minutes.”

Sounds like working for a bank in Britain in fairness. Alas, the wages in these factories are a bit lamer. The clothing manufacturer in China that made the Kardashians’ clothing line for Bebe last year paid factory workers just eight cents for each shirt they completed. According to China Labor Watch, staff often worked 12 hours a day, six days a week for the hourly wage of $1.75.

Still, that shouldn’t spoil Kim Kardashian’s quest to shag every single celebrity on Earth who has a name that starts with a ‘K’ (look out Cheggers and K-Fed) as she’s managed to erase all those suffering Chinese children from her mind by imagining fun-times with the barely filed for divorce Kobe Bryant.

There’s loads of brilliant rumours flying around that Kardashian wanted the Lakers star so bad that she got her mum, Kris Jenner, to leaked some very unpleasant details about Bryant’s sexual escapades to his wife, leading to the divorce being filed.

How great is that? Yeah. Forget about those suffering children in factories being bullwhipped by bug-eyed task-masters.

PS: The Kardashian family are totally suing over the sweatshop allegations. Lawyers, piss off.

It must be awful when you’ve become so fat, so disgustingly obese, so very massive that you have you’re own blood group and that blood group is Rocky Road.

So absurdly gargantuan that the only way to way to lose weight is resort to some serious cosmetic surgery that sucks out all the little fat babies that Domino’s Pizza lay inside you and sends them to lipid Heaven.

Sounds horrible doesn’t it?

Well this is how Craig Revel Horwood, the strategically nasty Judge of Strictly Come Dancing and not much else fame is feeling every single day.

The poor man. The poor, stupidly affluent man.

After years of eating pies and living with a silver shovel in his mouth, Revel Horwood, or Super Rev if we were to believe what he tells us, has managed to not spend money on Refresher bars and gobstoppers long enough to save up £3,000 for the surgery, and a further £6,000 for the crane to carry him in and out of the hospital.

The Strictly star complained of uncomfortable chest pains and agreed to have the surgery before realising that this was how everyone felt when they saw Nancy Dell’olio for the first time.

“I couldn’t cha-cha-cha about without them jiggling in my face. I was fed up with having tits so I had them hoovered away and now I feel fabulous.”

Poor Craig Revel Horwood not being able to cha-cha-cha when he wants to. He’s such a trooper.