The general opinion of Bobby Brown is that he's so impossibly unlikeable that it's beyond the realms of human thought to imagine him being much more of an arsehole.

Kids, he's done it. 

You know how you think that Bobby Brown was the wife-beating idiot who helped plunge Whitney Houston into a spiral of hard drug addiction? Didn't happen. Bobby Brown has written a book where he claims that Whitney Houston was the one who introduced him to all the drugs. Which all seems so obvious now - what was Whitney Houston's pre-Brown dancefloor-filler My Name Is Not Susan if not the desperate shriek of a burnt-out husk with a debilitating antifreeze addiction? 

This Christmas, families around the world will be united by one thing - the sound of a crack-addled hasbeen croaking out pale imitations of her best-loved hits.

Amy Winehouse? Don't be silly - we're talking about the queen of substance-deranged power-ballads here, not the scabby-faced pretender to her crack-addled throne, here. That's right, Whitney Houston is back.

Well, sort of back. Whitney Houston's comeback album - her first for six years - will be released in time for Christmas. It'd be ready sooner, but it's going to take nine months of round-the-clock labour to photoshop the album's artwork so it looks like Whitney Houston's pupils are the same size and that she's got teeth and generally looks a bit less identical to Samuel L Jackson in Jungle Fever.