Do you have a dog? Word to the wise – no-one actually cares. It’s your stupid, gristle-munching crap-factory and no-one else wants to deal with it outside of occasional petting of it when we have to visit your fur covered home that smells like dog’s teeth.
That’s because dogs are stupid. They’re impressively stupid. They walk into things, frighten themselves when flatulent and will forever be fooled by someone pretending to throw a ball for them. Dogs, in short, are idiots.
With that, someone ought to tell Eva Mendes who is ten shades of thrilled that she talks to her dog in French and is bowled over that it knows what she’s on about. Or rather, it has no idea.
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The Queen of New Boring has come under attack for having the temerity to get all pelvic and grunty with a man who might not be entirely divorced from his estranged wife.
As if it wasn’t enough that she can’t get through a day without a million more people buying her album, she’s had to take to her blog (which is a step up from taking to Twitter, at least) to tell everyone that
a) he’s not married and b) it’s none of their goddamn business.
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You might not enjoy the music of Adele, but when award season rolls round, she won’t have enough room in her bathroom to show them all off. With six Grammy nominations and probable Brit nods, she’s likely to sweep the board.
You can’t escape Adele’s music due to her success, and so, an extensive tour was always on the cards.
However, major chunks of the gig schedule were thrown into chaos when her voice took a turn for the worst. We imagine that punters wouldn’t want to see her sing through a robotic voice emulator on an iPhone. It might ruin a subtle ballad if she sounded like a Smash robot.
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Adele, the most successful British singer since the last British singer did well in the United States of America, has been having problems with that throat of hers. Mainly, the terrible singing that emits from it.
Sadly for Adele’s bank manager, she’s been cancelling gigs left, right and centre because there’s something wrong with her.
As such, she’s had to had surgery on her throat. THERE IS A CHANCE SHE’LL NEVER SING AGAIN! JUST IMAGINE!
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Some people hate James Corden. They want the ground to break open and swallow him right up, with all the “stupid” “comedy” things that he says. His amiable, cheeky chappy demeanour just rubs people up such the wrong way that not only would they not piss on him if he was on fire, but they would probably light sparklers on his burning corpse and start a carnival.
Imagine the things you’d see. The sights and sounds of burning fat spitting on possibly e.coli contaminated hotdogs. Lovely.
Whereas on the other side of the coin, there’s people who adore the ground that he walks on and will happily tune into whatever he does. These people would probably not piss on him if he was on fire. They would probably phone the fire brigade and stand idly by and bite their nails waiting for Dennis the Fire Engine to turn up. Maybe taking a picture and uploading it to Twitter, or that fancy new Google Plus. Technological mavens that they are.
Us, well we wouldn’t say one way or another how we feel about James Corden. You don’t come to Hecklerspray for angry reactionary prose about things. Imagine, right? Right.
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Imagine just for a second that you’re Adele. You wake up to the contractual Lazy Susan of creamed pastries and important news.
As you separate your breasts from clapping together when you roll over to the eclair sideboard, you hear that someone on the X Factor is totally stealing your shtick and that song that you’ve rammed down so many throats that the Nation doesn’t have a gag reflex anymore? Well the video is out. You’d probably have a celebratory glass of whole cream as you sit down to watch it.
Aaaaaaaaaaand, end scene. Well done everyone. Take five and grab something from the green room.
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Adele seems to split people into two camps. The first is the Oooh! She’s like a proper singer! She’s not like those thin, manufactured ones! She’s a proper soul singer! She’s a real person! The other is the She Makes Really Boring Records And I Just Don’t Get The Fuss camp.
Of course, there’s a third group which sneer I Don’t Have Anything To Do With Popular Culture Because I Do My Own Thing And Feel Vastly Superior And Simultaneously Ostracised By It, but the less said about those bores the better.
However, there’s a fourth camp now. They’re called the Gah! We’re So Bored Of Hearing The Same Song That We’ve Actually Banned It. Let us explain.
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Adele. She’s not thin is she? We’ve all noticed and most people don’t really care. They never have. They may well think her music is duller than stagnant dish water, but her waist? Never even considered it.
The single most irritating thing about Adele is that she’s omnipresent. You can’t move for hearing her mawkish take on balladry. She’s basically a more-credible Westlife. It’s all earnest, doe-eyed faux-pain channelled through that feeling of being a bit teary after a few drinks, watching someone sing something slightly emotional on a karaoke.
However, bringing up her weight is none other than the girl herself, who for the millionth time this week, has underlined that she’s comfortable with the way she looks.
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