Sweet Jesus.

Australian Idol judge and radio host Kyle Sandilands has stepped up after receiving a call from Big Brother - and will enter the House this Saturday!

As the days and Housemates begin to dwindle in what's left of Big Brother 2007, it's time to get down to business.

Completely out of his Australian Idol comfort zone, Kyle will spend a few days in the Big Brother House where he will carry out his covert activities. The first instalment of Kyle's adventure in the Big Brother House will be revealed on Sunday's Daily Show, before the Housemates receive the shock of their lives and discover they must vote to evict one of their own.

He'd better not do anything while he's in the house to make us like him, thus ruining a perfectly good one directional irrational eight year long hatefest. There were enough dicey moments in 2005's Idol series, thank you very much.

We're fairly sure we can count on him being a complete spankstain, though.

We kind of wish Michelle was still in the compound so she and Kyle could fight to the death*.

*NB. Not one or the other... both, please. The two of them simultaneously hitching a ride to Hades is quite a pleasing concept, we think.

PLEASE NOTE: We don't really want them dead. Just silenced and/or shipped off to Nauru.

Doesn't Billy look like he's enjoying himself?

While we were researching* for yesterday's thrilling piece about Bianca Dye's new blog, we tried to find a link to highly respected Fairfax blogger Sam "Who Pays On The Second Date?/How Soon Should You Have Sex?/How To Text Message In A Way That Ensures A Proposal/Repeat As Necessary" Brett's Sam In The City column online... only to discover it had gone and been replaced by something called Ask Sam.

At first we just assumed it was Sam's sneaky way of getting the punters to come up with the material as the well of inane relationship anecdotes had truly been pumped dry. But it turns out we guessed wrong!

Sources tell us that the name was changed from Sam In The City to Ask Sam because HBO - the folk behind television show Sex And The City - felt it was a little too close to their big money spinner's moniker and threatened to sue.

So now you know.

(We don't want to be around when search engine Ask Jeeves hears about this.)

*Okay, Googling. Which is research for bloggers, you know. We don't need facts, it just ain't how we roll.

Seems like the newly reformed Spice Girls have chosen to slip on their giant platformed sneakers and stomp around the globe leaving carbon footprints to rival Madonna's with news emerging that the lasses plan on flying from show to show in a private jet each.

The Spice Girls' much-hyped reunion tour this year will be shadowed by five private jets, it has been revealed, just in case any of the old rivalry should spill over again.

Rather giving the lie to the happy talk of reconciliation and camaraderie at the launch of the tour, record label Virgin will lay on a quintet of Lear jets big enough to carry each of the Girls' entourages, not least their seven children and collective nannies.

We can't blame the girls for wanting to chillax during their travels without having to hear Mel B natter on and on about Eddie Murphy ("Wot's he liiiike, then ay?") or line up for the toilet every time nature calls because the heavily knocked up Emma Bunton can't keep her legs crossed for more than five minutes before needing to find a lavatory quick sticks, etc.

We enjoy this particular bit of brutality in the article.

Fearing the ravages of time on what little talent the Spice Girls previously had, their vocals will be broadcast via computer software that will correct any bum notes in less than one-tenth of a second.

Are they insinuating that perhaps, just perhaps, the Spice Girls are not a posse of vocally skilled feminists with a sharp sense of fashion and keen business acumen?

Under the format, A-list celebrities from around the world including Elton John and Robbie Williams in the UK and P Diddy and Mariah Carey in the US, ask questions of the girl band during live crosses.

Our imagination has already run wild.

Robbie Williams: Where's my career gone? Can I have that Red Bull in your rider?

P Diddy: (waving arms in air) Spice Girls, Spice Girls! We love you! We respect you! CAN YOU TAKE US TO THE BRIDGE?!

Of course, we jest somewhat. Daniel and friends prefer a nicely rolled joint to a bong Daniel never inhaled in the company of renown drug hating celebrities Bono and Peter Garrett MP.

Nevertheless, things are not good in the world of Johns' throat, as Silverchair's performance of Straight Lines on Jay Leno's show will attest. Although we'd never really liked Silverchair in the past, the release of Straight Lines saw Defamer Australia become freakishly obsessed with the song back in March, and we still hold it in high esteem.

In fact, when people ask us how our attempt to quit smoking is going, we quite often break into the first few lines of the chorus. We then follow this with a spot on imitation of Daniel Johns' shoulder shimmy in the break down bit of the video clip, and then find ourself apologising profusely to friends and loved ones for once again horrifying them with our complete idiocy.

MOVING ON.

Check out the less than stellar vocals in Silverchair's performance of Straight Lines on Leno after the jump, kids.

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Maybe we're bitter, but we love seeing rich and beautiful people fuck-up their fashion choices. This particular type of Schadenfreude is one of the reasons why the Fug ladies are so popular Stateside.

But it gives us even greater pleasure when an Aussie blips on their radar, which brings us to this.

What the fuck is that on Elle MacPherson's arm? It looks like some kind of oil spill. And the top of that dress looks a bit like a garbage bag. But, dear reader, it gets oh-so-much worse after the jump.

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Our nation's beloved and esteemed Prime Minister exhibited signs of memory loss this morning during an interview with ABC radio in Tasmania.

John Howard made an embarrassing start to his whistle-stop tour of Tasmania when he forgot the name of the Liberal candidate for the seat of Franklin in the state's southeast.

Mr Howard hesitated on ABC radio this morning when he was asked to name candidate Vanessa Goodwin.

"I support all of my Liberal colleagues,'' he replied before he was interrupted and asked again to name Dr Goodwin.

He then admitted: "I don't know.''

Other things forgotten by John Howard over the years.

- the milk
- wedding anniversary
- human decency

So the Pope Benedict XVI reckons his church is better than the rest

Protestants can't properly call themselves churches, while orthodox churches can but are "wounded", the Vatican says in a document released yesterday.

The new document, issued by the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, which the Pope used to head, reaffirms traditional teaching that the Roman Catholic Church is the only true church — though "elements of truth" are found in separated churches.

The Anglicans have replied with equal maturity.

"Of course, they would think that — we think they're a bit dodgy, too, but we've come a long way from saying the Pope is the antichrist. In Sydney, we get on well (with the Catholics) because we both accept there are irreconcilable differences. But that doesn't stop us loving each other."

Hmmm. Loving each other, fine. But hopefully not "knowing" each other... in the Biblical sense.

Seems Prince Harry's been copping some flack for having red hair.

A 14-year old girl who met the Prince after she won the Diana Award for her work helping other kids cope with bullying, reckons the Ginger Prince told her he gets called names for being a 'ranga.

She revealed: “Prince Harry came up to our table and he asked me what I had got the award for. I said it was for counselling fellow pupils and helping children who had been bullied.

“He asked if he could come and get some counselling because he gets bullied for being ginger. I didn't know what to say and I just laughed."

Apparently Harry's Army mates have nicknamed him the "Ginger Bullet Magnet". Even more disturbingly, his girlfriend Chelsea Davy calls him "Big Ginger".

We can only assume that means the carpet matches the drapes.

It's time to add another chapter to The Big Book Of Deeply Moving Celebrity Love Stories, because Catherine Zeta-Jones has revealed the magically seductive pick up line thrown her way by Hollywood's favourite sex addict Michael Douglas.

In an interview with US magazine Parade due out this Sunday, Zeta-Jones, routinely voted one of the world's sexiest women, relates how Douglas wooed her with the some would say cheesy line, 'I want to father your children.'

Clearly Zeta-Jones wasn't thinking straight when she found herself swooning at the notorious wick-dipper's one liner, because in practical terms Douglas was essentially saying "Allow me to place my old man penis inside you, shuffle about for a while, and then leave a sticky mess which in nine months time will result in a small creature who will both scream and defecate incessantly for a tediously lengthy amount of time."

"Months later, we were dating, and I was already in love with him," she told the magazine. "But there was one thing I had to be sure of. I turned to him and said, 'Do you really want children?' And I thought, for that one minute, he was going to say, 'I already have a son, Cameron,' and I would have to say goodbye. "I remember saying defiantly, 'I cannot live without having children.' And he went, 'Me too'."

"Me too" - a rapidly ageing man's way of saying "Oh god, let me just touch it once before I die, I beg of you."

PS: For the record, we actually quite like Michael Douglas.

Australia's most uninteresting celebrity export, Olivia Newton John, has a new boyfriend.

The much-loved Aussie songbird, whose long-time boyfriend Patrick McDermott mysteriously disappeared two years ago, stepped out with natural health guru John Easterling on Tuesday night. The whereabouts of McDermott, who bares a strong resemblance to Easterling, is still unknown despite several reported sightings of him in Mexico since he disappeared on an overnight fishing trip off the coast of Los Angeles.

A strong resemblance? As in, what? They're both men??

Tell us what you think about this astute observation from the Sydney Confidential team.

Here's John -

And here's Patrick -

From the vault of really really useful medical information comes this from the journal Cancer Epidemiology Biomarkers & Prevention.

Scientists claim that those with lots of moles are years younger biologically than those with mark-free skin.

They may retain their youthful looks for longer and could be at lower risk of a host of age-related diseases such as heart disease or osteoporosis.

We're not ‘scienticians' in white lab coats carrying clipboards and looking important or anything like that, but the hunch around here is that maybe the reason people covered in moles look younger is because they're so shit-scared of skin-cancer that they wear those awful neck to knee swimsuits from the Cancer Council shop, go through gallons of sunscreen a year and generally hide from the sun all summer while the rest of us are generally, you know, having a life.

The findings might explain why supermodel Cindy Crawford, known for a mole above her lips, looks far younger than her 41 years.

No, the fact that she's a supermodel explains why Cindy Crawford looks far younger than her 41 years. More so, being a supermodel with squillions to spend on secret non-invasive surgery, botox, collagen and laser skin resurfacing might do it too.

And they go some way to balancing out the link between moles and an increased risk of skin cancer.

Yeah, only if your personal motto in life is "I'd rather die young from cancer than get wrinkles."

Lead researcher Dr Veronique Bataille, a consultant dermatologist, said: "Dermatologists have always said that nature doesn't give us something for no reason. If the only reason for moles was to increase the risk of melanoma, it wouldn't be very clever."

Well, now that's just plain stupid. How does that logic apply to people born with red hair and freckles? What benefit, besides a tormented childhood, does being a ‘ranga have?

Radio shock jock Stan Zemanek has passed away.

Television host and radio shock jock Stan Zemanek, who made his name as a personality listeners loved to hate, has died of a brain tumour in Sydney at the age of 60.

The provocative and often amusing "shock jock'' had battled the brain tumour since May last year. He is survived by his wife Marcella, two daughters, Gaby and Melissa, and two grandchildren.

We grew up hearing Stan on the radio and thinking he was whatever the average ten year old's vocabulary equivalent of "cockholster" is, but despite his repeated displays of arsehattery, we still oddly warmed to his particular style of one-eyed bigoted caveman behaviour and we're surprisingly saddened by news of his death.

Although we should specify that by "warmed", we pretty much mean we found him more likeable than Alan Jones.

Farewell, Stan.

· And with the presentation of this on-the-set video of Harrison Ford dramatically gathering together the pieces of his costume for Indiana Jones 4, we officially bring to a close our Steven Spielberg's Narrowly Averted Rape Day festivities. · As much as we once counted on him to bring a rational medical perspective to the insanity following Anna Nicole Smith's death, we must admit that CNN's Dr. Sanjay Gupta does seems like kind of a dick. · Are we eeeeverrr going to find out if Nicole Richie has to go to jail for five minutes? We're getting a little impatient over here. It's been, like, days since one of those Simple Life girls got locked up. · Tara Reid enters her Grey Gardens period, and the Fug girls are there.

We were more than a little disturbed when a reader, having just read our post on the importance of remembering Steven Spielberg's Narrowly Averted Rape Day, alerted us to the existence of an anonymously produced film that would seem to run contrary to the spirit of this most joyous of Hollywood observances. Somewhat surprisingly, this Film Threat review of Raping Steven Spielberg calmed our fears about the project:

RAPING STEVEN SPIELBERG by Eric Campos (2002-04-29) 1998, Un-rated, 35 minutes, Rising Star Productions You know you have gold in your hands when you get a film by a cast and crew who refuse to be identified. This is also one of those rare films that could get by alone on it's premise - a homosexual rape fantasy featuring Steven Spielberg and the films that have made him such a household name.

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It had completely slipped our minds that today is one of the most important dates on the Hollywood calendar, but thanks to a helpful reader who wanted to make sure we wouldn't forget to note it here, we now gently remind everyone to set aside a moment to celebrate Steven Spielberg's Narrowly Averted Rape Day. Explains DailyRotten.com:

July 11 1997 Bodybuilder and wannabe actor Jonathan Norman is arrested for trespassing on Steven Spielberg's estate in Malibu, California. Believing that the film director "wanted to be raped," Norman had brought along a kit containing handcuffs, duct tape, nipple clamps, chloroform, and a stun gun.

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We were genuinely curious to see how Paramount handled the tricky matter of composing the boast-copy for its obligatory "Hey, look at how much money we made!" spread in the trades, as Transformers' box office "record,"* while more than impressive enough to earn emperor Brad Grey's subjects a celebratory day off, does require the use of that unwieldy "non-sequel" qualifier. In the end, however, Paramount probably made the right choice for the slogan they've splashed across two full pages in Variety today, as SIXTH BIGGEST OPENING WEEK OF ALL TIME (FUCKING SEQUELS!*) might have displayed too much of self-deprecating touch to work: no one enters a dick-measuring contest they know they're going to lose just so they can joke, "Heh. It would look much bigger if all those guys with the huge cocks stayed home." [*Don't get us wrong. $US155 million is still technically a "shitload" of money. It's just not Spider-Man or Pirates money. Or even bad Star Wars prequel money.] [Ad via Digital Variety]

Whatever progress Hollywood looked to be making in telling mature, well-observed stories of sheepwrangler-on-sheepwrangler action in Brokeback Mountain appears at first glance to have been set back considerably by the impending release of I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry, an Adam Sandler comedy about two straight firemen who unconvincingly masquerade as a gay couple in order to get into Jessica Biel's pants. Don't let the stereotype-laden and unfunny trailer that's been running ad nauseum since April give you the wrong idea, however. A GLAAD authority has seen the movie twice, and stamped it Gay Kosher:

While the press waits to screen "Chuck & Larry," [GLAAD entertainment media director Damon] Romine has seen the film twice with sample audiences. "Through this disarming type of comedy, there is this use of stereotypes and slurs, and it holds the mirror up for people to ask, 'Where does this come from?' " Romine said.

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· Generally speaking, we'd rather have our genitals scorched off with a red-hot fireplace poker than pay attention to anything related to the lives of David Beckham and Posh Spice, but when the story involves setting the record straight about whether or not Posh uses a diamond-encrusted vibrator, we can make a onetime exception. · But as long as we're on the subject, Posh says Scientology never comes up when she hangs with Tom and Katie, even when Cruise repeatedly clears his throat and nods his head towards the e-meter on the kitchen table, hoping in vain for his friend to take some interest in his faith. · It's nice to see that Cavemen's recasting process gave ABC a chance to place a big name into the beleaguered project. · In other Geico-related news, Optimus Prime is having a bitch of a time getting his insurance agent to reimburse him for damage sustained during his efforts to protect freedom for all sentient beings.

The US talent pool, it seems, has been so thoroughly drained by the approximately three-dozen Idol-style competitions currently clogging network summer schedules that the best America's Got Talent can book is a man whose gift is to hurtle himself headlong through a pile of folding chairs. But even though the above Entertainment Tonight footage is initially disturbing, no need to worry: Ivan quickly regained consciousness following his primetime audition, proving that he was no worse for the wear by playfully remaining splayed on the stage, stripping off his shirt, and launching into a woozy, pantomimed reenactment of AGT judge David Hasselhoff's infamous floor-cheeseburger incident.

• Entertainment Tonight [ETOnline.com]

Throughout the Phil Spector trial, we have learned much about the accused's sociopathic past, filled with misogynist death threats and loaded handguns produced at the slightest provocation. But what of the victim? Lana Clarkson is most often referred to as a B-movie actress, best known for her work in Barbarian Queen, and who had been making ends meet by taking a job as a hostess at the House of Blues. Following the testimony of Vincent DiMaio, a forensics expert who also happens to have keen insight into the depressive states of minds of 40-something actresses who find themselves losing parts to Paris Hilton, the defence called today John Barons, a local playwright and one of the last people to work professionally with Clarkson. The project was called Brentwood Blondes - a play, ominously enough, about three legendary Hollywood blondes who met untimely ends:

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· Hollywood Out of Ideas, Molesting Bacon Edition: Paramount is remaking Footloose as (in the words of Var) "a full-blown musical" starring High School Musical's Zac Efron, who we're sure will one day go on to become the Kevin Bacon of the Disney Channel generation. [Variety] · Fox Atomic acquires the comedy Don't Lean on Me, the story of a high school gym teacher who is reluctantly promoted to principal. We'd uncharitably compare it to Summer School, but someone's already defiling resurrecting that classic of our early teenage years. [THR] · Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix rolls out today on more than 9,000 screens, marking the widest opening in Warner Bros. history. Huzzah! But sadly, as a sequel, it stands no chance of breaking Transformers' impressive first-week box office record. [Variety] · In a rebranding effort that will forever change the way you perceive the channel where you watch Most Shocking, Body of Evidence, and L.A. Forensics, Court TV is rechristening itself truTV. [Variety] · NBC's Singing Bee, which endeavours to recreate for viewers the experience of what it would be like to spend eternity in Hell's most popular karaoke bar, starts strong, improving upon on its America's Got Talent lead-in. We are all doomed. For real this time. Oh, and we almost forgot: Fox's nearly identical Don't Forget the Lyrics debuts tonight. [Variety]

So blinded were we by the ostentation of Paramount's eye-catching, two-page, "We made so much money last week that Brad Grey is buying everyone solid-gold robots" spread for Transformers that we completely missed this far more subtle ad lurking in pages of Variety this morning.

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Rosie O'Donnell's cruise line, The Angry Lesbian of the Sea, set sail again for the Bahamas, a prime opportunity for the outspoken comedian to delight a captive audience of 1500 vacationers with a brainwashing session comedy routine about her pet obsessions: Dumpling-cheeked neocon Elisabeth Hasselbeck, and swivel-chair branding whore Donald Trump. UsMagazine.com has the exclusive:

A witness tells Us that O'Donnell trotted out a giant photo of Hasselbeck doctored up as the devil, made a "crazy" gesture at the poster and said, "Her only f--king credit was Survivor. Come on!" [...] "I can't fight with pregnant people. Just go have your baby and have a nice life."

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What happened when leading celebrity photographer Annie Leibovitz - a bold artist known to throw fits when the "preternaturally" prop baby DHL'd to her Vanity Fair cover shoot doesn't meet her exacting specifications - was assigned to shoot a legendarily frigid monarch? Things got tense, especially when the portraitist suggested to the Queen of England that she remove her crown, and BBC cameras were there to capture the entire exchange. From The Times Online:

The Queen arrived in white fur stole, gold-embroidered evening dress, Order of the Garter robes and diamond tiara, as requested. But Leibovitz, a perfectionist who once persuaded Whoopi Goldberg to pose in a bath of milk, had a change of heart.

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Too squeamish to attend the Captivity premiere party that After Dark Films provocateur Courtney Solomon recently promised would be so debauched that it would likely bring about the total collapse of Western Civilisation ourselves, we dispatched unshockable Defamer Special Correspondent on Looking Into The Eyes of Evil and Laughing Nick Malis to Privilege last night, hoping that he would emerge from the ritualistic promotional flaying with enough of his sanity intact to file a report on his experience. Luckily for us, he did survive the ordeal, though not without some psychological scarring associated with prolonged exposure to a carefully coordinated attempt to offend his sensibilities. His report after the jump.

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Following the precedent he recently set to celebrate Shrek the Third's "spectacular" late May opening, Paramount emperor Brad Grey has once again offered his hard-working underlings a special treat, recognising the "amazing" performance of the franchise-kickstarting Transformers over the six-plus-day extended Fourth of July frame by opening the gates of his Melrose compound and sending his well-behaved studio children out for their weekend Rumspringa a day early. Unfortunately, Grey is not, as we predicted at the time of his supersized Memorial Day holiday, flying the entire company to Cancun, an act of generosity he was clearly reserving for the event that Transformers set a significant box office record that didn't have a clunky "nonsequel" qualifier attached. Better luck in 2010 with Transformers 2: More Giant Fucking Robots Are Coming, Dreamamount gang. After the jump, the edict that's setting Grey's people free on Friday:

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For New York residents in the early '80s, the only TV commercials more ubiquitous than the tourism campaign that would inspire the hearting of a great number of things were those of Crazy Eddie's groundbreaking ads that entertained locals, while sensitising them to the challenges faced by the mentally ill in accurately pricing stereo equipment. A recent confrontation on CNBC between the original "Crazy Eddie" Antar and the cousin who put him away for tax fraud inspired premium Limoncello maker Danny DeVito to bring his life to the screen:

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