Roseanne Barr

Controversial comedienne Roseanne has raised the bar with a shocking photo-shoot for Jewish American publication, Heeb. In its latest edition, ‘the Germany issue’, the actress - who once fronted a US TV cookery show called Domestic Goddess - appears as an uncomfortably convincing Adolf Hitler in drag, complete with trademark moustache, brilliantined short back and sides and psychotic glazed expression. Would our very own domestic goddess Nigella Lawson who, like Barr, was also born Jewish, ever agree to be pictured as a Nazi hausfrau holding a baking tray of charred gingerbread men that are described on Heeb’s webiste as ‘burnt Jew cookies.’ With her ‘gingerbread victim cookies’ leaving a bad taste in many mouths, what next for her dubious satyrical creation? Fronting a campaign for oven cleaner?

Megan Fox

Touted by some as the next Angelina Jolie - despite a range that doesn’t appear to stretch much beyond evading robots disguised as cars - Fox reckons to have ‘some kind of mental problem’ as yet unpinpointed. Could the issue be more physical in nature? Like foot in mouth disease? This might explain a penchant for outlandish, unfiltered quotes that would cause most stars’ PR people to vomit or suffer uncontrollable diarrhoea - the avoidance of which - along with tripping - are among Megan’s stated objectives whenever she is on stage according to an interview in Wonderland magazine. Suggesting she’d really like to let rip on the topic of Michael Bay, her director on the latest Transformers flick, she reins her comments way in, comparing him to nobody more frightful than Napoleon - a syphilitic, baldy, megalomaniac midget with delusions of grandeur, then? - or that perennially fluffy kitten, Hitler - a description unlikely to commend Bay to Hollywood’s Jewish grandees. ‘He’s a nightmare to work for,’ she says. Just as well the batty brunette won’t have to in future.

Mischa Barton

As war criminal/ sadistic dentist Dr Szell in Marathon Man, Larry Olivier memorably hits a few raw nerves as he drills into Dustin Hoffman’s gnashers. Perhaps poor Ms Barton’s recent extractions were at the brutal hands of one of the Nazi molar molester’s alumnae? The troubled ‘star’ claims her Colgate ring of confidence was shattered when her wisdom teeth were removed without proper medication, on the grounds that taking painkillers might impinge on her TV commitments. The trauma of this ‘terrible’ dental surgery apparently explains July’s rumoured involuntary stint in an LA psychiatric unit. Palliative care has come a long way since my great-granny had her entire bottom set yanked out with only neat whisky to numb the pain - indeed, my own dentist’s preferred form of sedation involves nothing more traumatic than subjecting patients to re-runs of Mischa in The OC - so forgive me for wondering if even the tooth fairy might dismiss this painful tale as complete mental floss.

image: www.alarmpress.com

Courtney Love

Pity poor Ma Cobain! There she was at some New York fashtrash-bash doing whatever ‘the most controversial woman in the history of rock’ (according to Rolling Stone) does in the loo with her Hole, when her solitude was abruptly shattered. Er, that metal thingy ? It's called a lock, Love. Mistaking her cubicle’s door for the venue’s exit, civilian Sebastian Karnaby burst in to find the startled star wishing ‘she’d gone to have a poo at Paul’s’ - as one current TV ad goes. Cue mayhem, as Love reportedly ‘went nuts’ jumping on him, dragging him around by the arm and acting like a woman possessed. Lucky for Karnaby - who ungallantly says the sight of the singer with her skirt round her ankles ’wasn’t pretty’ - he didn’t burst in on toilet temper tantrum queen, Cheryl Cole! Would Ma Cobain have reacted differently had her tormentor revealed his profession? Some celebs would have invited him in, demanding the pharmacist share out the tools of his trade. Wouldn't have happened to Loo Reed!

image: www.mclol.com

Chipmunk

The young MC blasted into the charts with one of the last year’s killer pop hooks, Diamond Rings, which - for those unfamiliar with his romantic lyricism he described as ‘the s***’. Just the sort of flowery lingo to win him fans in America, the market he vows to conquer. But could he stand the heat? It’s a notoriously tough nut to crack (ask Robbie, Jordan et al) and recent reports don’t augur well; he’s been posting disturbing tweets such as ‘I wanna die’ and ‘is suicide easy?’ Oopsy daisy! Crack America when it looks like you’re cracking up in Britain? Is this wise? (Ask Amy). Minders advised rest, which presumably included a night out at full-on nightclub Whisky Mist at Rhianna’s party just days later? He bounces back quick but I worry that for all his swagger and attitude, the lil’ Chip Diddy chappy might be a delicate blossom. Time to cash in his chips and become a monk?

image: tragnark.com

Peaches Geldof (admittedly, this is testing the parameters of the term 'celeb' somewhat)

Apparently, the poor pudding claims to suffer recurring dreams about bread. What’s that, Sigmund? A deep seated anxiety that those bedazzled by her inestimable talents will one day think ‘what the Dickens?’ and stop chucking dough at the infant phenomenon? Could she still count on ‘tight a***, Irish potato famine miser’ Sir Daddy to finance any mammoth hotel bill not written off for a mention in her magnificent media outpourings? Milk it while you can, missy, reprising your gig as pants model for Michelle Mone who regards you as epitomising Miss Ultimo; i.e. ‘everything a young woman should be.’ Well, who wouldn’t want their tackily tattooed teen bride/divorcée daughter to star in a drugs deal video or come across - as in a recent cringeworthy Fearne Cotton-wooly interview - as a precocious vacuum who - were her folks not famous - might be hard pushed to get a gig demonstrating Hoovers?  Stylish? Sure! If junior Scientologist (was Kabbalah, ‘like’, too last year?) got up as something even the cat wouldn’t drag in floats your boat. if there's a less worthwhile 'celeb' clogging up our mags, I'm yet to discover them. What is the point of the Geldof brat? Somebody, can Peaches! Pretty, please?


Image: ' Sliced Peaches' (the author does not condone knife crime!) webrestaurantstore.com

Myleene Klass

Replacing snow as national obsession, the controversy surrounding Myleene’s ticking-off by the Old Bill rages on with Mr. Cameron adding his two penn’orth to the debate. The scenario goes something like this: Middle Britain’s sweetheart is home alone practicing her scales, dreaming about what fabulous career to pursue next and preparing a meal - not just any meal  but an M&S meal, one imagines - when she spots two menacing figures lurking in her idyllic Home Counties garden. ‘Be off with you, you scally-wags!’ she exclaims, instinctively grabbing a kitchen knife to wave at the rapscallions. Wrong move!  Nowadays, the law decrees that intruders be met with an invitation to afternoon tea and a preview of Ms Klass’s thrilling new light entertainment, Pop Star to Opera Star, in which Danny from McFly and Bernie Nolan tussle with Tosca. This, rather than brandishing a well-polished Sabatier, is how to send potential rapists/ murders screaming for the hills in Gord’s promised land, apparently.   

Vernon Kay

A new poll reveals young women rate the goofy TV host among the ten most fashionable male celebs behind Becks and cool personified, George Lamb. In his trademark whistles, it’s true, Kay can look sharp...in a 1960’s Burton’s display dummy kind of way. But how stylish would the same women, aged 18-30, rate his behaviour following reports that the clean-cut Dad has been acting more like a dirty single lad on a Club 18-30 jolly? Apparently, flirty texts and tweets - too explicit to publish according to one rag - have been pinging between the big Lankyshire cheese straw and a busty blonde glamour model (what else?) prone to dressing as a Baywatch lifeguard. Can the buxom ‘babe’ rescue her admirer from the hot water he looks to be in with his trusting wife of seven years? Tess Daly admits to throwing cushions when they’ve argued in the past; will the no-nonsense Northern lass snap the tweeting twiglet clean in two this time?

Image: retrojunk.com

50 Cent

The recession is hitting even rap royalty, it seems. As a few million bucks evaporate from the Fiddy fortune in the crunch, it’s reported that 50 Cent restricted a recent London bar tab to a mere £75,000. Scrooge himself would surely approve of another canny call - presumably lifted from the Blingin’ Idiot’s Guide To Make Do And Mend? ‘I buy diamonds on a very regular basis, but now I’m selling my old stuff before I get something new.’ Such thrift will resonate with nouveaux pauvres reduced to listing last season’s threads on eBay in the hope of scraping together enough for an autumn cardi from Primark. No need to wire 50 Cent a dime though; he reckons he’s a survivor and is even offering his services as a fiscal advisor to el prez. Word up, Barack! Anyone who can accumulate an estimated £270 million from what sounds, to your average Katie Melua fan, like a right royal load of *rap deserves Respect!

Image: faketyfake.com

Kevin Federline

Dancer/ model/ actor/ rapper/ wrestler/ what-evah, ‘Fed-Ex’ is best remembered for his failed marriage to Britney Spiers. If Kev ever dreamed of being big in Hollywood, recent pics suggest he already is; a shoo-in for the role of The Incredible Bulk, his mighty moobs and matching muffin top prompted Perez Hilton - a man with a (love) handle (or two) on such issues - to dub him K-Fat. Could this be a result of a generally slobbish lifestyle? Former landlords who are demanding around £70,000 in allegedly unpaid rent seem to think so, citing discarded cigarette butts, graffiti and ‘a broken beer dispenser on the barbecue island’ among the horrors they claim turned their once beautiful home into a trashed ‘spit-stained dump’. No mention of empty KFC buckets, Krispy Kreme cartons or pizza boxes. Did the man often vilified as white trash occasionally put some of his out for collection, then?

David Beckham

It seems Sir David-in-waiting’s latest goal - to appear on The Simpsons - is to be as cruelly denied him as, inevitably, will any dream of lifting the World Cup. Having previously played a blinder on Sesame Street, it’s claimed he hoped to make the Springfield United team, running out in Homer’s cartoon strip. And why not? Isn’t a gig on The Simpsons, with its huge global audience, the ultimate self-promotional coup? Whether the idea was entirely his, or a cunning stunt planned by some brand-building Lady Macbeth indoors, England’s national treasure reportedly contacted the show and gallantly offered his services, only to be politely knocked back by executive producer, Al Jean, on the grounds that David who? is ‘not a big enough star for an American audience’. Less worthy, even, than past cameos The Olsen Twins or Weird Al Jankovic? The humiliation! It’s enough to make Goldenballs wince as if hard man Vinnie Jones just grabbed him, Gazza-style, in the penalty area ...if he could locate his tackle. Posh would surely rebuff current cruel speculation that hubby's allegedly retouched packet, as seen on billboards worldwide, is inversely proportionate to his pay-packet

Image: www.inthestands.co.uk

Tiger Woods

Call it bunker mentality but Woods stayed tight-lipped as a tsunami of claims about the number of birdies he’s holed throughout his career swept him away. According to some commentators, a rumoured 15 plus handicap includes a sexy British TV presenter; the mind boggles! Would his wife hit back where it hurts - $300 million had been mentioned - and without those lucrative endorsements would the mighty tiger be reduced to eating cat food from his local A and P? It seems sponsors Nike were not up to changing their motto to ‘Just Do Her!’ An unlikely ally came to the sex pest's defence in the form of Hugh Heffner. Pondering his plight, he advised monogamy is not forever and that ‘if you're a good-looking guy ... well, marriage is just a convenience.’ Not an image the squeaky clean family man wished to portray, surely? The Playboy mogul did not rule out splashing Tiger's todger’s alleged conquests across his pages which could make for a bumper issue. From the look of some, what puzzles me is why any billionaire golfer out to play a round would willingly shoot straight into the rough? Tiger's ruthlessly stage-managed press conference as he tries to get John and Jane Doe back on side was a ghastly spectacle -tail between his legs, instead of legs astride some cheap slut's tail his contrition looked about as realistic as my shot at winning the US open.

Joss Stone

With her CD currently languishing at # 151 on Amazon’s chart, will a string of contentious remarks revive interest in the moon faced diva whose last effort, described as ‘truly me’ was so truly forgettable, Oxfam duly got my copy? Let’s see! Apparently, Lily Allen is ‘more of a personality than she is a singer’ - Miaow! At least she’s got one, dearie! Cue more verbal dross from Joss. What’s the fuss over illegal file-sharing when musicians ‘don’t need that much money’? You’ll be gifting your multi-millions to starving buskers, then? Not owning a TV (yawn!) the drippy Devon hippy has never heard of Cheryl Cole. Odd that, considering Alexandra Burke is reportedly a good friend. Perhaps it’s the dope talking? That’s cannabis as in not really a drug, more of a herb and anyone who says they don’t smoke it is lying. Gonna roll another reefer, get Joss Stoned and just disappear with your fake American drawl you silly weed!

Jeremy Kyle

Jezza, the only reason for trackie-bottomed trailer trash to crawl out of their scratchers before 9.30 of a morning - is off to crack America. Make that Crack America,  given the druggy, deadbeat across-the-Pond-life that will doubtless line up in droves for a chance to wash its funky linen (polyester?) on ‘national TV’, a phenomenon described by one British judge as a ‘morbid and depressing display of dysfunctional people.’ For Brits, though, making it on US telly is a lottery: how come bland blonde Cat Deeley succeeds while razor sharp Vicky Beckham is reportedly abandoning all hope after scathing reviews? While Britain’s DNA test laboratories go bust in his absence, I predict Stateside glory for the people’s philanthropist - for like the great man says, ‘This show isn’t about me.’ Of course not, matey! But with Springer a hard act to follow, will it be a case of Kyles to New Castle, Pennsylvania? With luck, JK will not be needing the return portion of his airline ticket to LA

Mariah Carey

Why does Mariah bother? Whenever she comes to Britain, cynical hacks trump up tales of outrageous demands, such as a hundred fluffy kittens wherever she goes (sounds perfectly reasonable); miming on X-Factor (the very idea!); needing someone to walk backwards in front of her in case she stumbles (do they know how much it costs to reheel a pair of Louboutins?) and two flunkies charged with lowering her onto Lorraine Kelly’s deeply ordinary looking sofa; the point being, if Mariah really were a diva - and she says she’s not - she’d have stipulated a rare butterfly and diamond-encrusted Ptolemaic Dynasty Pharaoh’s throne covered in antique Shantung silk personally spun for Marco Polo. The government is missing a trick here. Mariah is reckoned to have spent over $1 million dollars in just a few hours in London. Offer her Hampton Court Palace as free digs, keep Harrods open 24/7 for her exclusive use and convince her Newcastle Brown is the new Angel champagne. National debt sorted!

Suri Cruise

The internet is abuzz with news of a survey by Adams Childrenswear in which Suri Cruise emerges as ‘most fashionable child celebrity’. Apparently, the little picture of loveliness beat off stiff competition from the Beckham brood, Shiloh Jolie-Pitt and Junior Jordan, or whatever surname the clockwork orange glamour model’s sprog goes by these days. Suri’s reaction to this accolade is unknown; aged 3, I doubt she’s yet up to penning a gushing acceptance speech in joined-up writing. With a wardrobe said to be worth in excess of £2 million and Mummy and Daddy’s designer chums reportedly on call to cobble together red carpet couture, will she give two hoots about the endorsement of a Midlands-based kiddies clothiers? While her contemporaries discover Crocs, Suri is already exciting podiatrists by stepping out in heels - not a trend daddy would ever adopt, clearly. With such highly developed fashion antennae, how long before the pint-sized progidy is editing Vogue? Call me squeamish, but isn’t there something deeply creepy about infants as fashion icons? Couldn’t Tomkat have made do with a Barbie?

Vanessa Redgrave

That BAFTA fellowship acceptance speech...sweet Jesus! I thought her rigor mortis-inducing ramble would never Howards End.
How About You?

Kanye West

It’s claimed West threw a wobbler at Los Angeles airport on Monday when he found himself consigned to business class rather than first.  Really? He’s not normally known for playing the tantrum-prone Big I AM. And his mood would have been mellow, having just landed two Grammys. What’s that? ‘Token pacifiers lest he attend the ceremony, storm the stage and wreck someone else’s big night again?’ Could KW have been sulking about making PETA’s ‘worst-dressed celeb’ list? The animal rights organisation’s president has blasted the full-on fur fan for looking like an ‘idiot... from a shabby roadside zoo’ - one blogger adding ‘he deserves a lifetime bereavement award for all the corpses in his closet.’ But as the man says in All Falls Down ‘The prettiest people do the ugliest things...’  and if that includes skinning terrified, dumb animals alive so another pathetic creature can strut his blingy butt, looking er, foxy in murdered fox, where’s the harm? 

Image: new-bern.nc.us

Ashley Cole

It can’t be easy with JT on the team but according to some, Cole is a contender for the dubious title of Chelsea’s top scorer when it comes to playing away from home. If claims of sex ‘romps’ with busty Wagwannabes are founded, I wouldn’t want to be in the stoat-faced stud’s mucky boots. Not only will the entire nation rise as one against he who doeth the dirty on Our Lady of L’Oréal but woe betide the slime-ball that crosses Chezza - biggest hit to date, lamping a loo attendant. By far the most humiliating revelation in this alleged sleazy saga is the cocky left back’s dubious taste in underwear. Surely, on his massive pay packet, he’d present his own packet in something more alluring before texting come hither images? If you’re caught with your trousers down, better not be wearing naff scants that look like those hideous paper pants doled out by hospitals before they wheel you into theatre. Don’t expect a call from Mr Armani any time soon, A-Cole.
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Image: sharetv.org/images

Adam Lambert

The American Idol also-ran has been spitting feathers - and sequins, possibly, given his flamboyant tastes - over fellow Syco marionette, Susan Boyle. Piqued that a dowdy wee West Lothian wifey pipped would-be glam rocker to top the US charts, he tears into Boyle’s album, branding it ‘terrible.’ It seems her ‘horrendous, sacrilegious’ treatment of Wild Horses made him cry with laughter. Strange, that’s precisely how I reacted when I first clocked Lambert - his look? Lea DeLaria meets Liza Minnelli, the prescription drugs years, styled by a blindfolded Julian Clary. Have the ‘certain funguses’ he apparently experimented with scrambled the snippy (m)Adam’s brain, because newsflash, girlfriend! Your own album ain’t all that. Check out Strut, more of a lame limp, really. Traveling on Eurostar recently, Subo was mistaken for the Queen - that’s as in ‘of Britain’ not the jealous, bitchy Californian variety, Adam. What would your doppelganger Mike (pictured above left) think?