Big Brother -- is it really the end?
Due to an unforeseen set of circumstances -- largely drink related, it must be said -- this column has managed to miss most of this year's Big Brother, which has been morphed into the rather more cumbersome Big Brother: Celebrity Hijack.
But the vast hordes of unpaid, buxom interns who lurk in the dark alleyways of popular culture confidently inform me that this year it is really, really bad.
And now, it looks as if all those sacrifices -- both human and animal -- are going to finally bear fruit. The show might very well be doomed.
That can be the only conclusion after a paltry 100 people turned up for auditions for the next season in Newcastle.
Normally guaranteed a potential cast of thousands of braindead poltroons, producers are, we're happy to report, decidedly nervous that their dead horse has been flogged just once too often.
In fact, so desperate was Endemol to gather a mob that they even enlisted the absent charms of former Big Brother bunny boiler, Geordie Michelle Bass, the woman who makes her fellow Geordies The Fat Slags look like Hinge and Brackett.
According to Bass: "It's really brought back memories seeing people standing here. They've all got something to offer."
Well, seeing as the only thing they can offer which we want is their spectacularly gruesome deaths live on air, maybe they should give it another season.
Ah sod it. Just cancel the damn thing now.
NOT SO MUCH KEYSTONE AS 50 STONE
Police often get a hard time from a hostile media, apathetic public and a general populace which has an unfortunate tendency to focus on the negative side of policing, such as corruption, deceit, threats and the odd murder or two.
But it seems that some members of John Law are doing their best to confirm their reputation.
Take the case of heroic New York cop Paul Soto who has just lost a lawsuit against the city.
Was he injured trying to apprehend a criminal? Nope.
Did he hurt himself while rescuing a kitten from a tree? Hardly.
But he was injured in the line of duty -- he fell down while going to the NYPD doctor's office.
Soto claims that his knee was so damaged that he had to take early retirement.
There was just one small problem -- Soto weighs 500 pounds and had been forced to go and see the doctor by station chiefs who were worried about his health.
In fact, according to one report: "A former colleague at the 6th Precinct said Soto's gun belt was an incredible six feet long, and his bosses would order him to take walks around the stationhouse for his own good.
"They would also have other officers shadow him to make sure he didn't pick up food along the way."
Wow. Over here he'd be up for a promotion.
POOR SAMANTHA. MOANING AGAIN
As one of those micro-celebrities who seems to spend more time moaning and looking stroppy than actually performing -- did you see her documentary with Harvey Goldsmith? Ye Gods -- Samantha Mumba is never far away from a good whinge.
And this time she's complaining about her latest attempt to resurrect her career -- Dancing On Ice.
According to Mumba, the show is rigged against her because: "I'm devastated that they won't allow Irish people to vote. If nothing else it's really unfair.
"Everyone can get a vote from their home town, friends and family but I can't."
Yeah, we should really feel poor Samantha's pain.
After all, all those vast hordes of people who didn't turn up to her show at Vicar Street, forcing its cancellation, now don't have the option of not voting her this time either.
NO BIBLES FOR ME, PLEASE.
The current rash of despicable Islamophobia in Britain continues apace after a Muslim shop assistant in Marks and Sparks was suspended when she refused to handle a Bible a customer had bought because she thought it was "unclean".
Obviously, as a Muslim, she is entitled to hate everything without fear of censure, but this time, the British public have gone too far by demanding that Muslims handle whatever produce they stock in their shops.
But that principle can go too far. After all, do you really want to live in a society where video shop dudes are forced to handle copies of the movie Once?
Or the book shop staff forced to acknowledge the presence of Roddy Doyle's last book?
It's a slippery slope, people.
FINALLY, A USE FOR ROBBIE
The job losses at EMI have obviously come as a blow to all who sail in her, but it seems that there is some good news -- Robbie Williams has been humiliated.
The man who managed to become the whiniest rich man this of side Chris Martin also boasted the world's most pathetic substance abuse problem -- coffee -- so he'll probably have to go to some double-strength Turkish blend after discovering that more than a million copies of his last album, Rudebox, are to be shipped to China to help pave some roads.
This is part of a new plan by the restructured company to help the environment -- although they could have done that by simply not signing Williams in the first place -- but it opens up a whole host of potential opportunities.
We could turn Westlife CDs into sharp knives which can then be used to stab people who listen to the band -- you know it makes sense -- we can use Frames tour posters to make large sticks to beat their fans with and we can turn The Collected Wit And Wisdom Of Bertie Ahern into toilet paper.
That would be particularly ecologically friendly -- you'd only be able to make one sheet.
