Irma van Straaten

What’s the best thing about Natalie Portman? Her constant determination to take on one challenging role after another?

Her fierce political activism? Her intellectualism? No, you idiots. The best thing about Natalie Portman is probably the way that she looks quite nice when she wears pretty dresses. Look at her, all pretty in a lovely frock. She looks like a fairytale princess. What a lovely, pretty, lovely little princess Natalie Portman is. Why, if she didn’t waste her time by thinking about things so much, she’d be perfect. She’d be our pretty, lovely, lovely little perfect princess in her lovely pretty perfect dress.

Anyway, here’s lovely Natalie Portman in a lovely red dress at the premiere of her new film, which is about swans or something. It doesn’t matter, though, because it’s a good excuse for her to walk up and down in a pretty dress, which is what she’s best at. Not acting. Or thinking. Stupid Natalie Portman.

It goes without saying that Natalie Portman’s greatest achievement to date is her role in Mr Magorium’s Wonder Emporium, because she got to wander around with her eyes all big looking adorable and she didn’t have to think about things very hard. It’s so much better than films like Brothers or Closer, where she spoilt things by being subtle and morally ambiguous. Ugh.

Anyway, apparently Natalie Portman’s new film The Black Swan is almost as good as Mr Magorium’s Wonder Emporium. It’s so good, in fact, that following its premiere at the Venice Film Festival this week, some say that she might even win an Oscar for it. That’s great news! It means that the Oscars are so impressed with Natalie Portman that they’ll introduce a brand new category – for Loveliest Princess In A Lovely Pretty Dress – just so she can win something.

But what’s The Black Swan about and, more importantly, how many lovely pretty dresses will Natalie Portman get to wander around looking pretty in? CBS reports:

In Contention’s Guy Lodge called the film “boldly deranged and beautifully despairing.” Screen International’s Mike Goodridge said “Portman is captivating… Like Catherine Deneuve in “Repulsion” or Mia Farrow in “Rosemary’s Baby,” she captures the confusion of a repressed young woman thrown into a world of danger and temptation with frightening veracity.”

What? Confusion? Danger? Despairing? Captivating? This is no good. No good at all. It sounds like The Black Swan isn’t going to contain any lovely pretty dresses at all. And Natalie Portman probably isn’t even going to wink and blow a kiss at the audience, not even once. God, we hate The Black Swan.

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What’s the best thing about Natalie Portman? Her constant determination to take on one challenging role after another? Her fierce political activism? Her intellectualism? No, you idiots. The best thing about Natalie Portman is probably the way that she looks quite nice when she wears pretty dresses. Look at her, all pretty in a lovely [...]

Punks are idiots. Phlegm soaked idiots at that. You see, they told us for years that there was ‘no future’ while sneakily getting one of the most lucrative pension plans in existence – and that is the one of coining it in from faux-rebellion.

You see, punk had a great get-out clause. Basically, that meant that any attempt to fleece you, the public, could be filed in the ‘Art School Prank’ column and the biggest slags of the lot, The Sex Pistols, are at it again.

Bizarrely, they’ve released a perfume.

That’s right. On the back of appearances on countless clips shows, an appearance on I’m A Celebrity… GET ME OUT OF HERE!, some Country Life butter commercials and the re-releasing of their sole LP in countless guises and tarted-up box sets, the Pistols are now putting their name on a unisex perfume.

The advertising gubbins says:

“Resisting tradition, fighting conformity and disregarding aromatic conventions it leaves a fresh, restless bite of lemon, sharpened and intensified by a defiant black pepper. Electrified by aldehydes, the fragrance exudes pure energy, pared down and pumped up by leather, shot through with heliotrope and brought back down to earth by a raunchy patchouli.”

“As well as a strong scent, the bottle also makes a bold impression, with its iconic graphic inspired by the front cover of the single ‘God Save the Queen’ released in 1977.”

Are you getting all this down? ‘Raunchy patchouli’ and ‘defiant black pepper’.  Jeez… stop us from laughing so we can ingest huge amounts of heroin before stabbing our wives to death.

Of course, if the Sex Pistols really meant it maaaaaaan, they should have released a bottle of vinegar and piss for you to wear on your scrawny neck, all mottled up with huge green snotty loogies. That’s the scent of most punks if you ever brave their grotty little bedsits.

If you’re a complete idiot, you can buy it here for £20.

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Punks are idiots. Phlegm soaked idiots at that. You see, they told us for years that there was ‘no future’ while sneakily getting one of the most lucrative pension plans in existence – and that is the one of coining it in from faux-rebellion. You see, punk had a great get-out clause. Basically, that meant [...]

Now that Tiger Woods is single again, he can throw himself into the bachelor lifestyle with wild abandon.

He can go out and get drunk. He can have sex with as many unsuitable women as he possibly can. He can act like as much of a total pervert as he likes every second of the day. He can… oh, no, wait, we’re just listing things that Tiger Woods already did when he was married, aren’t we? Silly us.

Still, that hasn’t stopped Tiger Woods from taking out a vast $54.5 million mortgage on a new home in Florida. Apparently it’s got everything that a man like Tiger Woods could possibly want, like a tennis court, an oxygen room, a gym, wipe-clean bedsheets and an adjoining 24-hour sexually transmitted disease treatment facility. We may have made some of these up.

We don’t know about you, but we certainly miss the good old days of the Tiger Woods sex scandal. Why, if we had our day, then we’d still be bringing you a different story every day about a brand new set of women who had sex with Tiger Woods during his marriage. Women with strands of synthetic polymer where their hair should be, and a couple of rancid watermelons where their boobs used to be, and skin that looks like it should set off every single Geiger counter in a 20-mile radius, and names that are almost entirely made up of vowels. God, we miss that.

But that’s all in the past now. Tiger Woods has seen what such an exhausting schedule of no-strings sex with a spectrum of ratty-looking cocktail waitresses can do to his public image, personal happiness and financial situation and – now that he’s finally got divorced from his wife – he’s on the straight and narrow again. And to prove it, he’s just bought an insultingly large mansion to begin his life as a bachelor. The New York Daily News reports:

Hot on the heels of his highly public divorce, Tiger Woods reportedly took out a $54.5 million dollar mortgage for his new Florida mansion. The troubled golfer filed the legal docs for the massive mortgage earlier this week. The home, located on the exclusive Jupiter Island, will reportedly have a tennis court, oxygen therapy room, many pools and a fitness center. The loan should be repaid by 2016.

Of course, Tiger Woods would do well to remember that no amount of material possessions will ever replace the family he lost with his serial philandering. But then again, he probably is going to have loads of sex with hundreds of porn stars from now on, and that probably might.

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Now that Tiger Woods is single again, he can throw himself into the bachelor lifestyle with wild abandon.

This year’s Dancing With The Stars will feature the likes of Bristol Palin, The Situation and Michael Bolton.

But that’s not why you’ll watch it. No. You’re only going to watch Dancing With The Stars for David Hasselhoff, aren’t you? It’s OK, you can admit it. You’ll either watch it because you genuinely appreciated David Hasselhoff’s work on Knight Rider and Baywatch, or because you’re an ironic fan of David Hasselhoff’s ironic ‘Hoff’ persona, or because you want to see David Hasselhoff turn up drunk, start a fight with the gay Italian and then roll around on the floor urinating everywhere.

But what if you want to see David Hasselhoff do everything in his power to try and have sex with his Dancing With The Stars partner? Don’t worry, he’s got that angle covered as well. It was obviously a massive risk on the part of the Dancing With The Stars producers to hire David Hasselhoff. Don’t forget, David Hasselhoff is perhaps best-known for not being able to eat a hamburger off the floor properly so, by attempting something as complex as ballroom dancing, there’s a very real chance that he could end up dislocating every single bone in his body.

Not that David Hasselhoff cares about that, anyway. He’s only going on Dancing With The Stars for the poontang. No, really. E! Online reports:

“My daughters are the ones who talked me into this, and they said, ‘if you get this certain dance partner, you’re going to be very happy.’ And when I met the dance partner, I was smiling for a long time,” David said with a grin too big to be just for show. Uh-oh. The hookup rumors are starting before a single sequined pantsuit has been donned.

Now, we don’t know who David Hasselhoff’s Dancing With The Stars partner is – partly because she hasn’t been announced yet, and because because we really can’t bring ourselves to care – but, on the simple basis that she’s a female member of the professional Dancing With The Stars team, we’re going to guess that she’s tall, slim, coated in a thick nut-coloured Ronseal mixture and has about 4,000 more teeth than she would ever actually need. Or maybe, because David Hasselhoff loves her, she might be a talking car. We just don’t know.

Still, this news has suddenly made Dancing With The Stars a lot more appealing. As the relationship between David Hasselhoff and his partner develops, we’re bound to see a lot more brand new dance moves from them, including the Sneaky Non-Consensual Grope, the Restraining Order Threat and the Oh God Your Breath Smells Like Alcohol Again Look At Yourself You Disgust Me. We can’t wait.

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This year's Dancing With The Stars will feature the likes of Bristol Palin, The Situation and Michael Bolton.

True story – Age Of War probably got the best reaction of any Slackerjack we’ve ever published. People loved it, and no wonder. It was brilliant.

And here’s Age Of War 2. Whoopee. The good news is that it’s just as good as before. Age Of War 2 works just the same as its predecessor – you fight an army, slowly gaining the money and experience points necessary to evolve. You go from caveman you futuristic spider-cyborg before you know it. Honestly one of the most satisfying games around.

Play Age Of War 2 now

True story – Age Of War probably got the best reaction of any Slackerjack we’ve ever published. People loved it, and no wonder. It was brilliant. And here’s Age Of War 2. Whoopee. The good news is that it’s just as good as before. Age Of War 2 works just the same as its predecessor – [...]

There are two types of people in this country – people who like X Factor and people who like Strictly Come Dancing.

Wait, no. Sorry. There are actually three types of people in this country – people who like X Factor, people who like Strictly Come Dancing and people who aren’t gormless, backwards, cross-eyed, clapalong, dribbling, remedial Saturday night bellends. Three types. Sorry.

Anyway, some people have lives so colossally empty that they actually like X Factor and Strictly Come Dancing, and they’re bound to be upset by the news that both shows will air at the same time this year. Simon Cowell is upset about it too, but we get the feeling that’s mainly because he knows that if the audience is split then his plan to blind everyone in the country with the agonising glare from his ridiculous granny teeth will end in tragic failure.

So that’s it, then. Summer’s over. It’s all downhill to Christmas now. From now on our weekends will be dominated by hour after insulting hour of dumbly lowest common-denominator talent shows full of crying and pointless explosion noises and toe-curlingly scripted feuds by judges who look as if they’ve never had an original thought in their entire lives. And, whether you choose to take this nonsense in its X Factor or Strictly Come Dancing form, chances are you will end up being sucked in. Because your lives really are that desolate.

But the sole nugget of joy you should take from this is that you can’t watch both. Thanks to some mercifully competitive scheduling, Strictly Come Dancing and X Factor will be shown at the same time this year, which means you’ll be spared at least half of the agony. It’s joyous news. People should be dancing in the street out of sheer gratitude that they can no longer watch both Bruno Tonioli and Cheryl Cole spout the same mindless cack on the telly in the same evening.

But tell that to Simon Cowell. He’s got his knickers in an almighty twist about it, and wants Strictly Come Dancing to relent and get out of X Factor’s way. God knows why. The Sun reports:

He said: “I’d suggest they show Strictly a bit earlier in the afternoon because their audience is older. I’m serious. Then they can have a nap if it finishes at six and watch X Factor later. We don’t pay the licence fee for people to play games with ratings. It is childish and pathetic. We gave the BBC a choice last year about different time slots but they have this obsession with competing with us.”

But despite these protests, it’s too late to go back now. Viewers will have to choose – it’s either X Factor or Strictly Come Dancing. Or, you know, cyanide. Cyanide’s always good.

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There are two types of people in this country - people who like X Factor and people who like Strictly Come Dancing.

You’ve got to hand it to us Brits haven’t you? We certainly know where our preferences lie and what key issues are the most important in determining the outcome of our lives.

Or whatever makes the trending topics on Twitter. Forget the plight of some Chilean miners stuck down a hole or the flooding in Pakistan.

WE KNOW WHO THE STIG IS, SO WE CAN CROWD AROUND HIM IN SHOPPING CENTRES AND ASK WHAT IT’S LIKE TO DRIVE FAST CARS WHICH GO BRUMMMMMMMMMM BRUMMMMMMMMMM.

The Stig, who’s that then? Petrolheads everywhere bow down to the fourth member of BBC’s Top Gear, as he was the once anonymous character paid to drive cars round a track to unfunny narration from Jeremy Clarkson. Supposedly, the secret of The Stig’s identity was never meant to be revealed, but a court injunction from the High Court has allowed an autobiography to be published by a bloke who drives cars in a mask.

The formula for Top Gear is very basic. It’s presented by ringleader Jeremy Clarkson, with help from James May and Richard Hammond, collectively known as the three musketeers of the mid-life crisis. Each spouting overgrown hair and wearing ill-fitting clothes, the trio shout and emphasise each word as they entice the studio audience into watching the same rehashed footage of cars zooming round a track, cars being slagged off, cars being praised, cars being blown up and cars being priced so highly you’d wish you’d starting saving for one whilst you were in the womb.

So just who is The Stig? Well take a deep breath – he is apparently racing driver Ben Collins. No, us neither. We have no idea who he is and won’t be searching Wikipedia for his tampered biography page. Exciting stuff or what? The Telegraph reports:

“The High Court has refused to ban a book which reveals that Top Gear’s The Stig is racing driver Ben Collins. After more than a day of legal argument in private, Mr Justice Morgan said he would not grant the BBC a temporary injunction blocking publication of Mr Collins’s autobiography.”

But before you start to create an effigy of Ben Collins, it seems that if you used basic detective skills, then the identity of The Stig wasn’t quite as top secret as the secret recipe used by Colonel Sanders in his greasy chicken. Reporting further, The Telegraph says:

“It was widely reported that The Stig was Mr Collins after his company’s financial reports listed Top Gear among its work.”

How will the producers of Top Gear react? Will they bloke up The Stig and nickname him The Stag? Thus widening the appeal to the shows alpha male audience? Or will the simply hire someone else and threaten to attach his testicles to a car battery if identities of future Stigs are breached?

Probably the latter if Jeremy Clarkson gets his way.

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You’ve got to hand it to us Brits haven’t you? We certainly know where our preferences lie and what key issues are the most important in determining the outcome of our lives. Or whatever makes the trending topics on Twitter. Forget the plight of some Chilean miners stuck down a hole or the flooding in [...]

Lindsay Lohan is the light of our lives. Lindsay is the gift that keeps on giving. Lindsay is, absolutely, a special and unique snowflake. And, a delusional one at that. And we love her for it.

While you were selfishly living your life, abiding by the law and not doing cocaine, Lindsay was suffering. Suffering, we tell you. She’d been framed for going braless in the first degree and did 14 days in jail followed by 23 days of inpatient rehab (she may have also had a DUI in there somewhere too – we can’t remember).

Lindsay is not long out of rehab, and has already been spotted out and about, and has been in minor trouble with the police again. The actress, who we’re pretty sure used to – you know – act for a living, has also been on more magazine covers than you can shake a stick at. Before going to jail, she was on the covers of three men’s magazines, bikini-clad. Since getting out of rehab, she’s now on the cover of Vanity Fair.

For the magazine’s October issue, with the creative subtitle of ‘Lindsay Lohan: What Went So Wrong’, the 24-year-old sat for an interview and posed for cover shots as released on Tuesday morning. In her interview, Lindsay talks about her drug and alcohol use. Except, she doesn’t really admit anything. And, despite being caught with narcotics and driving under the influence on at least one occasion each, Lindsay insists she’s sober as a nun.

In one excerpt, from Vanity Fair’s website, Lindsay tries to prove – using her words, like a big girl – that she’s not an alcoholic:

“If I were the alcoholic everyone says I am, then putting a [SCRAM] bracelet on would have ended me up in detox, in the emergency room, because I would have had to come down from all the things that people say I’m taking. I think everyone has their own addictions and hopefully learns how to get past them.”

See.

Moreover, we learn that Lindsay is both a sober and talented actress. The latter of these things we did not know. No clue.

She also insists, per an excerpt on The Huffington Post, that she is willing to give up the sauce for the sake of putting back together the shrapnel that is her career:

Despite everything, Lohan is confident in her acting abilities and future: “I don’t care what anyone says. I know that I’m a damn good actress.”  She says she’ll do whatever it takes to fix her party-girl image.  “I want my career back,” she said. “I want the respect that I had when I was doing great movies. And if that takes not going out to a club at night, then so be it. It’s not fun anyway.”

This was a guest blog by Amy Grindhouse, who really is a special and unique snowflake

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Lindsay Lohan is the light of our lives. Lindsay is the gift that keeps on giving. Lindsay is, absolutely, a special and unique snowflake. And, a delusional one at that. And we love her for it. While you were selfishly living your life, abiding by the law and not doing cocaine, Lindsay was suffering. Suffering, we [...]

Long-distance relationships don’t work – everyone knows that.

I had one once, it was a lot of hassle, too much travel and involved not nearly enough nookie. And nobody is worth that? Or are they?

It begs the inevitable question: How far would you travel just to see the woman/ man of your dreams? Down the street? To the ends of the earth? Croydon? Personally, if it is any longer than two tubes and a short bus ride, I am making other plans.

But then I am neither Drew Barrymore, who plays Erin, an aspiring journalist, nor Justin Long, a music promoter called Garrett.

Because if I was (and that has just planted some really odd thoughts into my head), I would be more than happy to travel between New York and San Francisco just to spend some quality time together.

Now, that’s a long way, and to be honest, even taking one tube to see Drew Barrymore on the big screen was a bit of a struggle for me, never mind travelling 3,000 miles to see her.

In fact, if it wasn’t for the promise of a free packet of toffee popcorn, I would have probably stayed indoors.

But then I guess I am not the target audience. I have a heart of flint and my only brush with romance was while studying for my A-Level English Literature exams.

Also, unlike a lot of men I know, I am completely immune to Barrymore’s charms. Her and her owl’s anus of a mouth do nothing for me. (Actually, I say that, there was this one moment in Poison Ivy…).

The point is, like most men dragged to the cinema to watch ‘wrong-coms’ with their partners, I need something to keep me going. Sandra Bullock usually does the job. But Drew Barrymore and the gawky guy from Dodgeball? Hmmmm.

To be honest, the only way the film could have sounded even less enticing would have been if I had found out that Nicolas Cage was in it, with Danny DeVito as his comedy sidekick friend.

Thankfully, none of these things happened and, despite all my fears, Going the Distance, helmed by Nanette Burstein (On The Ropes), is an entertaining movie. No, really.

Now, when I say that, I have to admit the best scenes are reserved for when the happy couple are actually apart, which, as it’s a film about long-distance relationships, are mercifully quite common.

The reason for that is not because Long and Barrymore lack chemistry, it’s because their friends and family are a lot more interesting.

Firstly, there are Long’s mates, Box (Jason Sudeikis) and Dan (Charlie Day), who mercilessly rib their lovesick friend about his constant texting, as he struggles to keep the relationship going after Stanford student Erin returns home from her summer stint as an intern at the New York Sentinel.

His roommate, Dan, in particular, is a real treat, particularly his attempts at helping Garrett and Erin get together in the first place.

Then there’s Erin’s uptight sister Corinne, played by Christina Applegate, and her long-suffering husband Phil, played superbly by Jim Gaffigan.

They are helped by a script which splutters in parts but provides enough laughs to have you leaving the cinema with a smile on your face.

All in all, it all adds up to a decent rom-com capable of melting even the hardest of hearts.

Maybe I am a romantic after all. Maybe not.

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Long-distance relationships don’t work – everyone knows that. I had one once, it was a lot of hassle, too much travel and involved not nearly enough nookie. And nobody is worth that? Or are they? It begs the inevitable question: How far would you travel just to see the woman/ man of your dreams? Down [...]

With Sly Stallone’s bizarre announcement that he’d like Bruce Willis to appear as a villain in The Expendables 2 (because apparently flogging a dead horse once just isn’t enough) we here at Hecklerspray decided to man up and have ourselves a good, ol’ fashioned Die Hard marathon, to re-acquaint ourselves with one of our favourite action movie icons.

But something troubled us deeply, Die Hard, Die Hard 2: Die Harder, Die Hard 3: Die Hard With a Vengeance and Die Hard 4.0: Life Free or Die Hard, the scenes seemed to be a lot more ridiculous than we remembered. Happily this meant that we can bring you the top 10 most ridiculous scenes from the Die Hard series.

Be prepared for explosions, gravity defying stunts and an old man who’s harder than the nails in his coffin in this summer’s most action packed, critically acclaimed and hotly anticipated Hecklerspray top 10!

10. Kevin Smith – Die Hard 4.0

As much as well all love Kevin Smith, he doesn’t really belong in a Die Hard film. Die Hard films star people like Samuel L. Jackson and Alan Rickman, not Silent Bob. His extended cameo was also partly responsible for the film Cop Out, which is another reason to hate his character, plus he makes people call him Warlock and is referred to as McClane and Farrell’s only hope, which is just a bit too geeky, even for us.

9. Water Jug Puzzle – Die Hard With a Vengeance

Maths isn’t my strongpoint, truth be told it isn’t a lot of people’s strongpoint, so how a cop who’s too stupid to wear anything other than a vest at Christmas and a middle aged man who still works as a shop assistant manage to solve this puzzle is beyond me.

8. Jumping off the Nakatomi plaza – Die Hard

In one of the most iconic scenes from the Die Hard quadrilogy our favourite New York Cop jumps from the exploding roof of the Nakatomi Plaza skyscraper whilst using a fire hose as a safety line, inadvertently giving some nut-cases the idea for BASE jumping. Miraculously the weight of a fully grown man falling doesn’t result in the hose simply breaking off and letting him fall to his death, it holds on for just long enough to give him time to get back inside… typical.

7. The Military Go AWOL – Die Hard 2

The Army Special Forces team lead by John Amos are called in to deal with the terrorists who are hiding in a little church just outside the airport. But wait, they’ve been using blanks, because they’re the bad guys too! Yep, the cavalry are on the take and have decided to turn their back on their country, kill one of their own men for some unknown reason and fly off into the sunset with a dictator.

6. John Mclane vs Water Pressure – Die Hard With A Vengeance

John McClane might have finally met his match as he tries to outrun millions of gallons of water rushing down an underground tunnel in a dump truck. Dump Truck vs millions of gallons of fast flowing water and yet he still survives, by being fired out of a manhole no less, how does any of that make sense? Surely the water pressure and the metal manhole cover would have crushed him to death, but no, not our John, his skull is made from Steel.

5. Blowing Up A Jumbo Jet – Die Hard 2

At the end of Die Hard 2: Die-Harder-than-you-would-have-died-originally-even-though-that-doesn’t-make-sense-because-you’d-have-died-the-first-time it appears as if the bad guys have managed to escape. Until McClane turns up with his trusty Zippo to make them explode in the most over the top way possible. Out of all the weapons he had access too, he chose a zippo to destroy a plane filled with evil soldiers.

4. Killing That Helicopter With A Car – Die Hard 4.0

Apparently the reason John McClane chose to fling a car into a Helicopter was because he was out of bullets, not because he’s so hard that the laws of physics have to bend in his presence to accommodate all that testosterone.

3. John McClane Survives Explosion – Die Hard 2

Our ultimate hardman is caught between a rock and a hard place. Inside the cockpit he is hiding in is a live grenade and outside it is a group of Special Armed Forces Soldiers baying for his blood. Rather than throw the grenade back out and hope to take out some of the soldiers McClane decides to eject at the same moment the grenade goes off, providing a brilliant escape strategy and once again proving John McClane’s vest is indestructable.

2. Jumping onto a plane – Die Hard 4.0

This one is surely the most self explanatory of the lot. John McClane, a 135 year old New York cop leaps from a crumbling freeway exit ramp onto a fighter jet. I don’t care who you are, that’s a special kind of retarded.

1. The Rest of Die Hard 4.0

Let’s face it, this film is a joke, John McClane has a smart-ass sidekick and is older than time itself. Plus it’s about computer hackers, it’s basically just Bruce Willis and Justin Long vs 4chan.

At this rate the recently announced Die Hard 5 could give us a top 10 most ridiculous scenes list all on it’s own. Yippy Kay Yay Mother…

With Sly Stallone’s bizarre announcement that he’d like Bruce Willis to appear as a villain in The Expendables 2 (because apparently flogging a dead horse once just isn’t enough) we here at Hecklerspray decided to man up and have ourselves a good, ol’ fashioned Die Hard marathon, to re-acquaint ourselves with one of our favourite [...]

Hey, who wants to dress like Kim Kardashian? No? Nobody? OK, then who wants to dress like Khloe Kardashian?

Still nobody? Really? What about the other Kardashian sister, whatever her name is? Kenneth Kardashian, is that it? Anybody want to dress like Kenneth Kardashian? Anybody? No? Because you don’t want to look like a bad pre-op transsexual prostitute? OK, there’s no need to be quite so rude about it. Jesus, you people.

Still, for those of you who do want to dress like a Kardashian but don’t have the money to pay for the full lobotomy and residential stint at a medical-level psychiatric treatment facility that you probably deserve, there’s good news. The Kardashians are bringing out their own clothing line! And it’s going to sell exclusively on a home shopping channel! Hooray! Or, more accurately, whatever the exact opposite of hooray is!

The Kardashian sisters aren’t primarily known for their dress sense. That’s partly because of the internal conflict that stops them from having a unified sartorial outlook – one of them would rather go naked than wear fur, and another one of them loves fur so much she might as well marry it – and partly because the Kardashian sisters can’t be primarily known for their dress sense because they’re too busy being primarily known for porking men on the internet.

However, that hasn’t stopped them from designing their own clothing range anyway. Entitled K-Dash by Kardashian, the collection is a range of leggings and belts and dresses and all sorts of crap like that. And the good news is that, if you’re the sort of person who spends their Friday nights all alone, buying random items from home shopping channels because you’re desperate for a sliver of a moment of human connection from whoever happens to be operating the telephones, the K-Dash collection is going to be available exclusively on QVC. CNN – CNN, mind you – reports:

K-Dash by Kardashian is set to debut on QVC as part of Fashion’s Night Out, live from New York’s Rockefeller Center on Friday, September 10th. Earlier this month, the sisters strolled Beverly Hills with Kim rocking the faux fur trimmed sweater vest with gray knit leggings, only to change into the ponte red knit dress and faux leather motorcycle jacket. So far, we love what we see!

Well done CNN. Thank God someone’s still reporting the real news – that Kim Kardashian wore some leggings at some point in the recent past and that they looked quite nice in one person’s opinion. We honestly don’t know what we’d do without you.

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Hey, who wants to dress like Kim Kardashian? No? Nobody? OK, then who wants to dress like Khloe Kardashian?

Las Vegas is Paris Hilton’s spiritual home. They share so much in common – both rich, both vacuous.

Both have housed several men. However, there’s one thing that Paris Hilton and Las Vegas don’t share in common, and that’s their cocaine policy. If there’s any truth in her recent arrest, then it would appear that Paris Hilton likes cocaine – or at least carrying cocaine that she didn’t know about in a bag that wasn’t hers – quite a lot. Meanwhile, Las Vegas nightclubs are so jumpy about drug arrests that they don’t like cocaine at all. And because of this, it looks like Paris Hilton might find herself effectively being banned from Las Vegas before too long.

And that’d be a crying shame. After all, if there’s one thing that Las Vegas doesn’t have enough of, it’s mentally vacant blonde girls with an inflated sense of entitlement. What’ll it do without her?

It’s easy to kick Paris Hilton when she’s down – largely because her wonky eye has impaired her depth perception, and she can’t accurately judge the proximity or velocity of the foot you’re kicking her with – but that doesn’t mean that you should.

After all, Paris Hilton has suffered enough this week. Whatever the outcome of her drug arrest investigation, she loses. If she was telling the truth, and she really did think that the bag of cocaine in her handbag was a packet of chewing gum, then the whole world is going to discover what a gibbering remedial subnormal she actually is. But if she was lying, and that really was her cocaine that the police officer found in her handbag, then Paris Hilton might just find herself blackballed from Las Vegas forever. People reports:

“Because Vegas nightclubs are under so much scrutiny right now, I don’t know how welcome she would be,” says a club executive who has booked Hilton, 29, to host parties. “Considering she’s busted for cocaine, people might assume that she’s going to the club either to use coke or she’s already on coke, and no club wants to be associated with that.”

That might not sound like much, but it could have a profound effect on Paris Hilton’s earnings. After all, Las Vegas nightclubs are willing to fork over tens of thousands of dollars just to make sure that Paris Hilton turns up on a set date and dances on a table for a few hours. Without that income, how is Paris going to survive? It’s not like her family is so ridiculously wealthy that she can just meander through life without ever having to worry about her financial responsibilities, is it?

Oh, hang on.

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Las Vegas is Paris Hilton's spiritual home. They share so much in common - both rich, both vacuous.

10 - If you have Chrome, you MUST watch this Arcade Fire thing. Breathtaking – Thewildernessdowntown

9 - Italian Spider-Man is best Spider-Man…

8 - 35 ways to improve your life immeasurably – Buzzfeed

7 - This new toilet design will never ever get abused, ever. Honest - Geekologie

6 - Oh Yoko Ono, don’t ever stop being you. Alright, stop being you a bit – Bestweekever

5 – Lindsay Lohan talks about herself. In a magazine. For once - AmyGrindhouse

4 - We know what you’re thinking: But what about the world testicle-cooking championship? – Asylum

3 - Who wants to see a man pretending to have sex with oblivious strangers? - Nothingtoxic

2 - Are you a dreadful bastard? Then why not try dog yoga? – Urlesque

1 – Question: is this the most awful man in the world? Answer: quite possibly, yes – AV Club

10 - If you have Chrome, you MUST watch this Arcade Fire thing. Breathtaking – Thewildernessdowntown 9 - Italian Spider-Man is best Spider-Man… 8 - 35 ways to improve your life immeasurably – Buzzfeed 7 - This new toilet design will never ever get abused, ever. Honest - Geekologie 6 - Oh Yoko Ono, don’t ever stop being you. [...]

There’s something creepy about this. Is it that Katie Price asked a 13-year-old boy if he was staring at her tits?

No. Is it that, when the same 13-year-old boy reached the front of the queue at a book-signing event, Katie Price wrote “To Jack and wet dreams” to him? No. Is it that the first thing the 13-year-old’s full-time carer did upon reading the message was rush to The Sun to sell her story for as much money as she could get? Again, no.

The creepiest thing about this whole story is that a 13-year-old boy actually bought a copy of a Katie Price book in the first place. That’s what’s so creepy about this. Doesn’t the boy know that Katie Price books are only read by girls and desperately lonely old women? Ugh. What a creepy little weirdo.

We thought that, by stealing Gareth Gates’s virginity like some sort of monotonous, giganto-titted sex vampire all those years ago, that Katie Price had got her fondness for insufferable wet-mouthed youngsters out of her system. But, no, that’s obviously not the case. Because, you see, Katie has just written something vaguely rude inside a teenage boy’s book.

Here’s roughly what happened: 13-year-old Jack McBirney recently attended a signing session for Katie Price’s new novel Paradise in the Exeter branch of WHSmith. Incidentally the session also broke the world record for the highest density of clueless, awful, bad-haired, objectionable, moronic, mealy-minded, mouth-breathing yokels ever gathered together in the Exeter branch of WHSmith, but that’s not important.

When young Jack reached the front of the queue, Katie Price apparently asked him if he was staring at her tits. Even though he almost certainly wasn’t – because if he wanted to look at something that misshapen and scar-covered and depressing, he would have just stayed at home and watched a documentary about Hiroshima instead – Jack became shy. And that’s when Katie Price decided to write “To Jack and wet dreams” in the book for him. And that’s when Jack’s carer lost her temper and rushed off to The Sun to wail about it:

“That woman is a disgrace. Jack is 13 for heaven’s sake. Imagine a grown man leaving a sex message for a girl that age. They would be arrested. She is a mother and should know better. Jack looks his age – he is very obviously a young teenage boy and it was wrong. People should think twice about letting children go to a Katie Price book signing.”

That’s the moral we should all take from this – that you should never take a child to a book signing for a binge-drinking titty model with her own internet sex tape, because she might not turn out to be the upstanding moral citizen that you expected her to be. Another moral you could take from this is that people from Exeter are colossally stupid.

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There's something creepy about this. Is it that Katie Price asked a 13-year-old boy if he was staring at her tits?

Conventional plastic surgery is a lot of rubbish and, frankly, a complete waste of time, only worth it for the doctor who’ll hack you open for a large amount of cash.

There isn’t a gigantic neon sign flashing above somebody with a message saying “compliment this insecure woman; she used to have four nostrils until the surgical team cemented them over.”

Plastic surgery would only be worth getting if something could be done to truly make you stand out from the crowd. Why not attach a desk fan for when we get a week of summer sun or just a glittery horn so we can pretend to be a unicorn? What nobody wants is for their face to become a mess after years of going under the knive. Michael Jackson was the king of this and following in his footsteps is reality star twonk Heidi Montag. Realising she’s a mess after ten body modifications, she’s decided that she doesn’t want to end up with detachable features like Mr. Potato Head.

This is the first and last time we’ll probably be mentioning Heidi Montag and Michael Jackson in the same sentence. Whilst the horrifying prospect of a Heidi Montag bongo flick is on the cards, we’re unsure whether we’d prefer to see Michael Jackson being bad in bed whilst beating some woman with his winky and spreading the love juice. According to his fans, he was full of the sodding stuff, spreading it around whenever he could.

Heidi Montag has gone one step further than Michael Jackson ever did in the surgery stakes, forcing us to pick up our knitting needles so we can sculpt a crown of thorns for her to wear as a victory gift. Did Jackson supersize his breasts to comedy proportions? No, he didn’t, but a certain star of a terribly scripted reality show on MTV did. Monsters & Critics report that:

“Montag famously underwent ten plastic surgery procedures in one day but she has now revealed that she is regretting getting her size G-cup breasts and wants her implants removed.”

Speaking to Heat magazine, she went into more detail about the problem of having massively stupid boobs. To be honest, we’re surprised she’s complaining and hasn’t instead gone to NASA and asked for her own moon to rotate round her tits due to their own gravitational pull:

“They are totally too big and it’s impossible to work out – they get in the way when I try to exercise – I have to wear two sports bras to run! It’s heartbreaking I can’t live an everyday life”.

And the worst thing of all? Bleating on further she said:

“I can’t hug my dogs anymore.”

Perhaps she can shrug off the fact that nobody takes her seriously and that she’s been reclassified from “human” to “walking talking piece of retarded plastic.” However, she’s still found time to show some sort of regret about realtering the looks Mother Nature gave her.

“I don’t want my face to fall off like Michael Jackson’s.”

All we can say, Heidi, is be careful about the doctors you pick. You may go in looking for a bandage for a sprained wrist, but you’ll come out hooked on delicious pain killers and looking like a voodoo doll, just enhancing the needles with syringes.

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//


Conventional plastic surgery is a lot of rubbish and, frankly, a complete waste of time, only worth it for the doctor who’ll hack you open for a large amount of cash. There isn’t a gigantic neon sign flashing above somebody with a message saying “compliment this insecure woman; she used to have four nostrils until [...]

Heard anything from The Beatles recently? You know, that cutting-edge modern band who single-handedly incorporated the sound of feeding zebras into recordings.

Oh wait, hang on a second, you mean to say that The Beatles haven’t released a record in decades and that the army of fanboys who refuse to listen to anything else but crackly vinyl recordings of the Fab Four will continually sing their praises?

It seems that Beatles fever hasn’t been confined to Liverpool, as scores of fans will froth at the mouth every time the name of Paul McCartney, John Lennon or George Harrison is mentioned. But never Ringo Starr. Everyone knows he did nothing but tap the drums and make everyone mugs of tea. Even we’d probably be interested in hearing unheard songs from the Scouse band, but buying a used toilet from one of them? That’s perhaps taking it a bit too far, especially if it comes complete with skidmarks.

Normally, an autograph from a musician, or a cuddle, or even a kiss, is enough for most fans to make some sort of connection to their hero. Fans of The Beatles however, take things to the next level in terms of who can collect the most obscure, pointless and tatty items. Guitar plectrums and stolen setlists from gigs won’t do. Instead, the stakes are raised to stalker level as items most people would throw in a skip have been bought for daft amounts of money from socially shy hardcore Beatles lovers.

So what do we have on sale for one lucky bidder? Original handwritten lyrics complete with tippex marks and coffee stains? How about a mountain of snapped guitar strings during the recording of The White Album? Or perhaps some used drug paraphernalia from the crazy times? You could literally become blood brothers with Paul McCartney.

Sadly, none of these were available. The item of the day was something that has been sitting in its former owner’s shed for forty years. And why hasn’t it been on proud display in John Hancock’s living room? Because the possession in question is so rubbish you’d literally shit into it. Up for grabs was John Lennon’s toilet, used 1969-1972. Perhaps he only had an eye for toilets, such as this porcelain beauty used whilst he lived at Tittenhurst Park, Berkshire. BBC News reports:

“It was expected to sell for £1,000 but the investor broke the estimate at the 33rd Beatles Convention in Liverpool.”

£1000? For a toilet? For that sort of money, we’d want some sort of crazy contraption which wiped your arse and made your farts smell all fuzzy and nice, like roses or baked bread. How you’d find about one of these mental fan auctions isn’t clear, but eventually someone relented and couldn’t literally lick the rim that John Lennon sat on. BBC News reports again:

“An overseas collector has paid £9,500 for John Lennon’s toilet at an auction in Liverpool.”

So a mystery overseas bidder pissed all over the dreams of other creepy mental Beatles fans. The only item to outdo this would be to purchase a chunk of John Lennon’s brain in a jar of pickled head juice after it found a temporary home on a New York pavement.

// Follow hecklerspray on Twitter and Facebook


Heard anything from The Beatles recently? You know, that cutting-edge modern band who single-handedly incorporated the sound of feeding zebras into recordings. Oh wait, hang on a second, you mean to say that The Beatles haven’t released a record in decades and that the army of fanboys who refuse to listen to anything else but [...]

Right. Nerds. Listen up. Read these words. SPOILER! SPOILER! POTENTIAL SPOILER! SPOILER! OI! SPOILER ALERT! SPPPPOOOOIIIIILLLEER! Okay? Now, if one of you whines and bitches about having your rubbish life turned upside down by some rumour about a TV show, you’re an idiot.

Now we’ve got the pleasantries out of the way, we are now faced with the obligatory filler which often starts articles like this because you can’t give any clue to spoilery future events at the start of an article because people might see it by accident. This means, a whole bunch of pointless words to carry you to a sufficient place where a page break can be put in place, so that readers can then make the decision of whether or not they want to hear a bit of gossip.

In this case, it revolves around Doctor Who and a character being killed off, as the headline suggests.

Now we’re on the other side, we can get down to the nitty-gritty. Well, the nitty-grittish at least.

Basically, the rumours flying around today are muttering that Doctor Who bosses are planning to kill off Amy Pond (Karen Gillan, aka The Fittest Woman To Ever Appear In Any SciFi Show Ever) half-way through the next series.

Various sites and papers are suggesting that the companion will die as part of a devastating plot twist.

Whovian Steven Moffat previously revealed that the next series of the show would be split in two, suggesting that the first half would conclude with “one of the most exciting… cliffhangers and plot twists ever”.

Now, an unnamed source/spoilsport/chatterbox gossip has said that Karen Gillan will depart the show after the initial batch of episodes.

So there.

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script>

Right. Nerds. Listen up. Read these words. SPOILER! SPOILER! POTENTIAL SPOILER! SPOILER! OI! SPOILER ALERT! SPPPPOOOOIIIIILLLEER! Okay? Now, if one of you whines and bitches about having your rubbish life turned upside down by some rumour about a TV show, you’re an idiot. Now we’ve got the pleasantries out of the way, we are now [...]

Oh dear. The police are saying that Paris Hilton has been arrested on cocaine charge in Las Vegas. Not that, we as cocaine ravaged media dweebs should pass judgement. We’re still coming down right now after a useless night punching our groins trying to get our withered genitals to work in a gakked up onanism funk.

Anyway, Paris Hilton was arrested in Las Vegas for possession of a controlled substance late Friday evening.

The heiress and famous-for-being-famous gal was a passenger in a vehicle that was stopped by police. The driver was arrested for DUI (although, the influence was drugs, not booze in this instance).

Now, Hilton is being held in Clark County Detention Center. No-one is making any comment at the moment and, well, we may well end up with a Lindsay Lohan in-out-in-out prison and rehab debacle.

More news when we get it.

Oh dear. The police are saying that Paris Hilton has been arrested on cocaine charge in Las Vegas. Not that, we as cocaine ravaged media dweebs should pass judgement. We’re still coming down right now after a useless night punching our groins trying to get our withered genitals to work in a gakked up onanism [...]

The best of times, the blurst of times.

Folded:

• ‘Wet’ (find out what the BBFC thought of The Human Centipede – spoilers)
• Five reasons why Scott Pilgrim ‘failed’ (sensible points all)
• The Incredible Suit’s blog (read ‘Herp Derp’ without laughing. Go on, we dare ya)
• Sexy A-Levels (better late than never)
• The X-Factor is back! (and it’s just as full of crazies as ever)

Creased:

• Walt’s wife in Breaking Bad (her “bitch please” expression is permanent)
• Video game motion sickness (anyone else suffer this? Ugh)
• Peckham Finishing School for Girls (if you missed it then try the i-player. If you want to see a ludicrously unbalanced look at being posh and being made to eat jerk chicken)
• Gok (still on telly, still solving everything with a big belt)
• The X-Factor is rigged! (just the same as ever then)

The best of times, the blurst of times. Folded: ‘Wet’ (find out what the BBFC thought of The Human Centipede – spoilers) Five reasons why Scott Pilgrim ‘failed’ (sensible points all) The Incredible Suit’s blog (read ‘Herp Derp’ without laughing. Go on, we dare ya) Sexy A-Levels (better late than never) The X-Factor is back! (and it’s just as full of [...]

Anxieteam have pretty much made writing this trawl amazingly easy. Normally we try and write our own view of why a band/artist rocks, but it’s been done for us. They are on a mission, and say they “are here to fill the void left by the recent passing of the King of Pop.”

We don’t know if they own pet monkeys and have peeling facial features, but they the songs are fantastically brilliant.

The songs are great and will literally be the most fun thing you subject your ears to this year. We never thought it would be possible to make a song about being a vegetarian fun. Now we fancy cramming soya down our necks and giving up meat altogether.

Confused?

Visit Anxietaam’s page for songs comprised of light electronica and indie tinges.

For more: http://www.myspace.com/anxieteam

Anxieteam have pretty much made writing this trawl amazingly easy. Normally we try and write our own view of why a band/artist rocks, but it’s been done for us. They are on a mission, and say they “are here to fill the void left by the recent passing of the King of Pop.” We don’t know [...]