Don’t think this hasn’t gone unnoticed, though – Kevin Smith himself is quite aware that he’s developing a bit of weight problem. It’s something he picked up on in the traditional way, by breaking a toilet under the weight of his own body.

According to an anecdote that he decided to tell a journalist of his own free will, Kevin Smith recently sat on a toilet only for it to fall away from the wall because of his enormous mass. At least we think Kevin Smith’s weight broke the toilet. It could have also been that Kevin Smith’s urine is high-pressured and grainy and essentially works like a manky-smelling water jet cutter. We simply don’t know.

Recently Kevin Smith has hinted that he’s got not plans to reintroduce Jay and Silent Bob to his movies, and that’s probably a good thing. If Kevin Smith continues to pack on weight at the rate he has been, Silent Bob will only be silent because he’s had a massive diabetic stroke.

Make no mistake, Kevin Smith is large. That’s no secret – those who saw Die Hard 4 last year may have been shocked by way that Kevin Smith suddenly seemed to have swollen up like an infected tropical insect bite – but now even Kevin Smith himself has decided to take action ahead of the release of Zack And Miri Make A Porno.

Weight gain, you see, can creep up on us in a number of ways. Maybe you have trouble putting on an old outfit. Maybe people accidentally think you’re pregnant. Or maybe, just maybe, you sit on a toilet and your gigantic body causes the toilet to shear off the wall completely.

As The LA Times reports, that last one was the warning buzzer for Kevin Smith:

“I’m going away for a while,” Smith, puffing a menthol cigarette on the patio of his Hollywood Hills home, “to concentrate on myself. To save my life.” … “I broke a toilet. That’s how heavy I am. I can’t take all the credit – that was an old toilet and a very waterlogged wall – but my size took that toilet down. I cannot cognitively reframe it and be like, ‘It wasn’t me – it was the toilet.’ It was definitely me. And that’s a wake-up call!”

Are you listening, Angelina Jolie? This is how you promote a movie. None of this overblown breast-feeding nonsense – you sit on a toilet, break it, possibly cover yourself in shit and then tell everyone about it. Maybe we’d go and watch The Changeling if you covered yourself in your own shit during a humiliating household accident. Remember that.

But anyway, let’s hope that Kevin Smith manages to get a handle on his weight problem, largely because it’d be quite nice if he stayed alive long enough to make his horror movie Red State. It can happen – just look at Peter Jackson. Maybe Kevin could take a leaf out of Jackson’s books and go from being a massively overweight movie director to a normal-sized movie director with so much excess skin that he ends up looking like a Pac-Man ghost.

Or if not, that’s cool too. It’d probably be quite nice to be known as the Orson Welles of films about nothing where people stand around talking about crap that isn’t important.

And, since Richard & Judy isn’t on the telly any more, that means that George Michael only has one way to respond to his arrest this weekend on suspicion of sitting on a toilet in Hampstead Heath trying to eat a chunk of crack the size of an owl, or whatever it was that he was arrested for.

In short, now that he’s been cautioned for his possession of crack, George Michael has issued an apology to all his fans promising that he’s going to try and overcome his drug problems once and for all. And a good thing too, because all the George Michael fans needed to calm down – otherwise they’d have done a really slapdash job of cutting everyone’s hair today.

When you think of George Michael, you don’t instantly think of crack cocaine. That’s because, as history has shown us in the form of Pete Doherty, the music that a crack addiction produces is a sort of off-kilter retro indie that sounds like a tranquilised cat being tortured until it makes a noise that sounds like the worst song The Kinks ever wrote.

And since George Michael deals solely in insipid, mimsying soul ballads that only hairdressers and nurses are allowed to like, nobody really made the connection.

But it seems as if the connection is there. On Friday George Michael was arrested on suspicion of the possession of a Class A drug though to be crack after a toilet attendant in Hampstead Heath saw him acting all peculiar and reported him to the police.

It’s not the first time that George Michael has found himself in trouble because of drugs – in the past he’s been found slumped at the wheel of his car with cannabis in his possession, smoking as much cannabis as possible on national television and taking loads of whatever drug it is that makes you feel up unemployed van drivers in a bush in front of the world’s press.

But crack? That’s a much more serious problem. As we all know, prolonged exposure to crack makes you grow a funny haircut and start screeching the word “BLAKE!” at intermittent points throughout your songs, and that would never do.

However, it seems as if this arrest has made George Michael come to his senses a little, because in his obligatory post-arrest apology to fans, George Michael has hinted that he might be about to attempt something of a clean-up:

“I want to apologise to my fans for screwing up again, and to promise them I’ll sort myself out. And to say sorry to everybody else, just for boring them.”

Sorry, but this sounds like the most insincere piece of tosh we’ve ever heard. Not because George Michael constantly apologises to his fans after these drug arrests and yet he never seems to do anything about it, but because George Michael obviously doesn’t care about how much he bores people. If he did, all copies of Jesus To A Child would currently be sealed inside a lead box, encased in concrete and buried 400ft underground where it couldn’t do anybody any more damage.

Still, at least an arrest on suspicion of crack possession is probably as bad as things will ever get for George Michael. And, on the bright side, he’s now got something to pin his confusing friendship with Geri Halliwell a few years ago on. After all, a fevered crack-dependent mind is just about the only logical reason why anyone would willingly want to go through a mental torture like that.

It’s a typical (Bobby Brown-like) boy meets (Lindsay Lohan-like) girl story: They meet at a party. They both think ‘ooh, he/she’s fit’. Boy goes to the toilet for a piss. Girl, perhaps aroused by the potential to orgasm while simultaneously inhaling men’s stale urine, follows him in. They have sex. They are now primed to have their first conversation:

Lindsay: Pass us some tissue. Cheers. So, what’s your name and what do you do?

Brandon: My name’s Brandon. My official job title is ’son’. And you?

Lindsay: My name’s Lindsay. I was in a film once and became a celebrity – I played a squeaky clean sweetheart who became an icon for youngsters. Now I do things like toilet sex.

Brandon: We’re both quite dull and expendable in the grand scheme of things.

Lindsay: Yep. I wish I was doing something more worthwhile, like writing about the crap people like me and you get up to for a living.

And so boy realises girl’s personality is like Lindsay Lohan’s. Girl realises boy’s personality is a lot like Bobby Brown’s – relationship ends.

Little is known about Brandon Brown, aside from the fact that he carries half of the ‘Two can play that game’ maestro’s genetics. However, from this we can scientifically deduce that he is at least 50% bell end.

The reported seduction took place in a West Hollywood nightclub two years ago. Brandon Brown told The Sun:

Me and Lindsay got really, really close. She followed me to the bathroom during a private party, and, well, we basically got together. I think she knew who I was when she first saw me. We were just staring at each other and she walked by. I walked into the bathroom and she followed me in.

And who said romance was dead? But, Brandon, how on earth did this Romeo and Juliet story end? He continued:

It didn’t end badly, but it did end weird. I’m actually trying to get back in touch with her – really soon.

Weirdly. It ended weirdly.

Good story.

Terrified that Britney Spears will either try to swim for freedom or end up gnawing on a turd like a squirrel with a nut if she's left alone in a bathroom for too long, Jamie Spears has reportedly made sure that bodyguards accompany her on every toilet trip.

It's not a job we'd care to do – standing around in a tiled room listening to the sound of Britney Spears groaning and straining for a shit – but if it's a toss-up between that or listening to Blackout again, we'd happily sign up for crapper duty.

Never let it be said that Britney Spears isn't educational. This year alone Britney Spears has taught us so much – like the correct way to barricade yourself topless into a bathroom with a child and convince everyone that you're about to kill yourself – but mainly we now know what it means to be Gravely Disabled.

That's how Britney Spears was medically classified during her stay in the psychiatric hospital earlier this month, and it means you can't be trusted to dress or feed yourself. But that's about it, because it seems as if you can be trusted to teach kids how to dance to Madonna songs. But you can't wee in a toilet by yourself. That's one hell of a complex sliding scale system and we're not even going to pretend to try and understand it.

Anyway, our point is that Britney Spears isn't allowed to go to the toilet without a small army of bodyguards following her around and making sure that she doesn't do anything stupid, like try and drink out of it like a cat or whisper secrets into it and only call it Jonathan. The New York Post reports on Britney's visit to an LA restaurant with her dad on Saturday:

The group sat at a table to eat, but Spears hardly touched her lobster burger, preferring butter-fried frites and Tater Tots. When she got restless, her bodyguards, stationed at several places throughout the eatery, jumped into action. "She continuously got up from the table to go to the bathroom or hang out at the bar and smoke a cigarette," our spy said. "Bodyguards followed her to the bathroom and bar." Another snitch who saw Spears leave noted, "She took a coffee cup from the restaurant with her."

Actually, it makes perfect sense for Jamie Spears to want to keep a close eye on Britney like this, because it's still early on in the recovery process for her and she's still highly unpredictable.

In fact, maybe Jamie Spears should go one step further and start hauling Britney around in an oversized animal-carrier. It sounds drastic, but it's not like Britney Spears would be cooped up in it for 24 hours a day. She'd be let out for exercise, albeit with an exploding collar around her neck that'd blow up the second she even started to talk in a weird British accent. But if a messy exploded skull is what it takes to get Britney Spears back to normal, that's what Jamie Spears should be prepared to do.

Read more:

Britney Watch – Page Six