Bollywood sensation Tania Zaetta has been forced to speak out against claims soliders who dared to serve in war torn Afghanistan won a romantic tryst with her during her recent tour for troops.

The Defence Department is investigating allegations that TV and film celebrity Tania Zaetta had sex with Australian special forces soldiers during a recent tour of war-ravaged Afghanistan.

The department has been severely embarrassed after admitting it broke privacy rules by naming Zaetta - who has denied the allegation - in a briefing document to the Minister for Defence Joel Fitzgibbon.

The high-level document, obtained by The Daily Telegraph, says the unsubstantiated claim that Zaetta had sex with troops at the Australian base in Tarin Kowt last month was made by veteran rock singer Angry Anderson.

Zaetta and Anderson were the two headline acts on a 17-day tour of the Middle East that staged concerts for Australian soldiers serving in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Angry Anderson denies having made the claims, and Zaetta is understandably upset, stating "I've just done this most amazing life-changing experience, been to the most unbelievable places and for this to be said, it's very hurtful."

Of couse, her cause isn't helped by this:

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· This orangutan know exactly what the acting game is all about: Just chillin' out, taking each audition as it comes, and stripping when required. [YouTube]
· Gasp! The Idol finale is underway, and apparently the vote "wasn't even close." Could Dial Idol's prediction of a runaway David Cook victory be accurate? [AP, Dial Idol]
· It's hard enough dragging yourself into the office every day without having to gaze out of Madonna's ladyparts. [Racked]
· Not pregnant? Don't like ice cream? Afraid of Tori Spelling? Well here's what you missed at today's Baskin Robbins Bump Day festivities. [D-listed]
· The latest Get Smart movie gets Mel Brooks's stamp of approval. The Nude Bomb? Not so much. [LAT]

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Anyone who has read Cleo or Cosmopolitan over the last five years or so will no doubt be familiar with the face of "PR chick" Roxy Jacenko, who is always happy to tell us all about her PR firm, the appealingly titled Sweaty Betty, and her exciting and fast-paced glamorous life. (She can also often be spotted in her natural habitat, generally at the opening of an envelope, sometimes with BFF and "dating expert" Samantha Brett.)

Well, imagine my delight when I loaded the Tele this morning to find that Roxy and her lil' sister Ruby are currently in court over a sisters' bitchfight at a club that allegedly led to Ruby socking Sweaty Sis square in the face!

Naturally the story has some delightful details:

"It's been soul destroying for us all. I don't want my 18-year-old sister to end up with criminal charges, but what she did to me, her sister, was completely and utterly out of line and unacceptable,'' Roxy said, after the hearing yesterday.

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In response to EW.com's list of the 25 Funniest People in America (congrats EW columnist Diablo Cody for coming in at #20, just three shy of David Letterman!), we now present Defamer's 25 Least Funny People in America:

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One television trend that hasn't really made its way to Australia yet (unless you count The Bush Tucker Man) is the whole extreme survival movement. The Brits eat it right up, what with their endless supply of Super Army Soldiers and landscape full of bogs, rivers, snow and wild beasts ready to be turned into edge-of-your-seat Sunday evening viewing.

Well, both BBC and Channel Four have their own takes on the theme, and now the Beeb's survival bloke, Ray Mears, has called Channel Four's - the excellently named former SAS action man Bear Grylls; that's him eating the fish with what appears to be extra t-sauce - nothing more than a pretender.

This was my favourite bit of the slanging match:

Last summer, 33- year- old Grylls was criticised over revelations that his existence during filming his series Born Survivor had been more comfortable than the programme suggested.

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You'll recall a week or so ago we drew your attention to the frankly idiotic treatment the Daily Mail gave a story about the suicide death of a teenager who also happened to be a My Chemical Romance fan. Naturally the paper decided that MCR's album about "The Black Parade" was all about the "nickname for the place where Emo fans believe they will go when they die."

Well, the fans have had it up to here with the media's treatment of their favourite band - rightly so, really - and have decided to gang up and march to the Mail's headquarters in protest.

The march, to be held on May 31, will begin at Hyde Park's West Pond and end outside the offices of The Daily Mail.

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Exactly what it says on the packet! My occasional bouts of insomnia mean that sometimes I find myself clicking through countless strange Wikipedia pages until somehow I've gone from learning about the personal lives of Flight Of The Conchords to marvelling at the fact Stephen Baldwin became a born again Christian thanks to a middle aged Brazilian housekeeper. Anyway, the other night I couldn't sleep, and somehow went from reading about Hokusai to Japanese porn star Sakura Sakurada's Wikipedia page.

Reading her INCREDIBLY LENGTHY resume, I began to notice that the English titles of the films, when translated from Japanese, were vaguely hysterical. So I picked the best ones and emailed them to my friends. Said friends enjoyed them. Then I showed my friend George. He laughed. heartily And then I thought "Why am I not sharing these with my people, the good readers of Defamer Australia?"

I slapped myself, and then I began to bang out this post.

After the jump, enjoy the titles of Japanese porn films translated into English. There are a couple of great band/song names in there, if you ask me.

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Hearing that Keanu Reeves and Winona Ryder may be dating is like winning the Fantasy Celebrity Hookups jackpot. Both of these lovable n'er-do-wells have been down on their luck recently, with a series of DOA movies, rumoured engagements that didn't pan out, and for Winona, the likes of Britney Spears and Lindsay Lohan stealing her stealing act. So whether or not the rumours are actually true, we're throwing these two stars' caution to the wind for them and giving them three good reasons why they most definitely should be, after the jump.

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No doubt the cro magnon men at the Footy Show continue to scratch their heads at the fallout from Sam "Gloria Steinem" Newman's stapling of a photo of Caroline Wilson's face to a lingerie-clad mannequin ("What? You mean women don't like this shit? That's un-Australian!").

After digging themselves ever deeper into the hole they'd started, the Footy clowns will no doubt be amazed to hear that ANZ has withdrawn their advertising from the show, with most media commentators taking that as a statement against being associated with Newman et al's boof-headed sexual politics.

The bank last night confirmed it had deliberately dissociated itself from one of Australia's highest rating sports shows.

In what is a largely symbolic demand, rather than a costly one for Channel Nine, the ANZ will continue its current commercial agreement with the network but has directed that its ads not be aired during the program.

"We are not currently running adverts on The Footy Show. It was a commercial decision, as The Footy Show in its current format does not allow us to connect well with the customer base," an ANZ spokeswoman told The Age.

What really amazed me through all this was Newman's confident ranting about women's lack of a place in AFL. You know, apart from all the nurses, managers, press agents, mums who cut up the oranges at VicKick games and drive the boys to footy at the arse crack of every Saturday morning, not to mention the women's League and all the girls playing VicKick and in high schools everywhere.

No one combats Indy 4 fatigue like our batty, beloved gossip aunt Cindy Adams, who today grilled one of the blockbuster's key consultants in an attempt to discover the sexy mystique of — wait for it — the bullwhip. Not just any bullwhip, of course, but Harrison Ford's $1,000 bullwhip — all 13 feet and two-and-a-half pounds of it, said whipmaster Anthony De Longis:

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After our public plea, I received the following email from reader Clayton.

I don't know if this suits your target demographic (I really don't think it will), but as someone who spent too much time in front of a Nintendo as a kid, this tickled my funny bone.

I think you overestimate our demographic. This is awesome!

We were sorry to read this week about the certain fiery purgatory awaiting slumping star Mike Myers, pregnant newlywed Jessica Alba and the rest of those associated with the production of The Love Guru, Myers' new "comedy" that drew such scorn last month from spiritual leaders around the country. We now learn that after a bit more finger-wagging and number-crunching, a dreadful trailer is the least the principals — and its viewers — have to worry about:

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Let there be no mistaking it—the National Enquirer owns the story of the disintegration of Jodie Foster's 14-year lesbian relationship to her beautiful Cydney. Now, their unprecedented access to the Rubyfruit Mafia's high-ranking Donettes gives us yet another shocking exclusive: Foster has parked her U-Haul outside the home of Cindy Mort, the creator of HBO's stunt-cock popularizing, prosthesis-core drama Tell Me You Love Me. From their report:

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Even as Indy 4 is poised to do mammoth B.O. this weekend, it seems that one member of the LaBeouf Snow Cone Family Circus is a bit down on his luck. Shia LaBeouf's father, whom Shia has already outed as a former drug dealer who used to smoke him out at 10 years old, has allegedly been crashing in Indiana Jones Jr.'s garage all winter long and has yet to return to his warm weather teepee in Montana (yes, really). As Shia puts it, "We've got this little air mattress set up for him. It's very comfortable. But now it's not winter anymore and he's still there. But I can't go there and go, `Hey dad. Listen it's time to go back.' I can't make him leave." So isn't it time we finally figure out who this longshot Father Of The Year candidate is already? You know, before he inhales too many fumes while sleeping next to his superstar son's pricey cars?

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Steven Tyler: 60, and in rehab. And not just any rehab, but Pasadena's Las Encinas Hospital of Celebrity Rehab fame. While his reps have yet to release a statement, using nothing but Aerosmith song titles, we'll now attempt to reconstruct exactly what happened: "Permanent Vacation" "Livin' On the Edge" "Monkey On My Back" "Push Comes To Shove" "My Fist Your Face" "You See Me Crying" "S.O.S. (Too Bad)" "Shame, Shame, Shame" "No More No More" "Sick As a Dog" "Jig Is Up" "Darkness" "I Wanna Know Why" "Crash""I'm Down" "Get a Grip" "Hole In My Soul" "Something's Gotta Give" "Attitude Adjustment" "Jesus Is on the Main Line"
[TMZ]

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The uninspired recycling of played-out mediocrity received a sleek bit of Hollywood upscaling over the last 24 hours, with no less than Jake Gyllenhaal, Christian Bale and the money gang at Sony Pictures climbing on the remake/franchise gravy train with some of the most appalling anti-ideas we've heard around these parts since that Donnie Darko sequel went fungal just before Cannes. After the jump, find out which of these warmed-over properties — Prince Of Persia? Flash Gordon? Highlander? Terminators 4, 5 & 6? — drove us to break our "No Drinking Before 5pm On Weekdays" rule.

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Just hours after professing her dedication to zipping her lips when it comes to airing any dirty laundry from her marriage to Charlie Sheen on The Today Show, Denise Richards showed up on The View to dish with the gals. And though she wasn't continuing her passive aggressive attack on Sheen's sperm and promising us all that she just adores it ("I mean, we have two beautiful daughters!"), she went ahead and brought up her former bestie Heather Locklear in the conversation. As we all fondly recall, Denise appeared to have stolen Richie Sambora away from Heather and committed double adultery during the top secret couple's many lobstery beach ventures. But it just isn't true, says Denise, and Denise doesn't do drugs, says Denise, and Denise is just not a whore so stop calling her that, says Denise.

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Gripped by a paralzying case of Rain Manesque echolalia on her Late Show appearance last night ("OK, so you're going to follow Harrison Ford. He has a movie coming out? Indiana Jones? Then Dave will ask you all about your little E! reality show. Don't forget to have fun!") aspiring Lohan Ali seemed incapable of responding with much more than a nervous, "Yeah," to most of host David Letterman's questions. (We've added dings to help you count them: 21 in two minutes.)

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· Jonathan Demme has stepped in for the departing Martin Scorsese on the authorised Bob Marley documentary project. This is the movie Marley's estate want released before the Weinstein's Bob biopic, a scheduling snafu that caused an irate Harvey to whip a can of Diet Coke at an assistant's head as he taunted the incapacitated call-roller to, "C'mon, Josh! Get up, stand up. Stand up for your rights!" [Variety]
· More legend docs! Spike Lee told a crowd at Cannes that he's hoping to bring a feature-length documentary about Michael Jordan to the festival next year, contingent of course on Denzel playing Michael. [Variety]

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Paramount interns are plucking rose petals as we speak for Brad Grey's arrival at the office tomorrow, by which time Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of Do We Really Have to Write it Out Again will be on its way to the top five — and possibly even an all-time record — for a five-day opening weekend. Most midnight screenings around the country tonight are already sold out, with at least one prognosticator firming up his tracking to reflect a $173 million opening. The number would bump the final Star Wars installment Revenge of the Sith from the number-one spot and, paired with Iron Man, give Paramount the best May in its history.

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Apparently the tabloids aren't the only ones who have serious issues with Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen's scary skinny frames. According to a story in OK!, a cunning barista at the twins' favourite Starbucks in New York was so concerned for MK&A's health that he would foster his own plumping recipes for the pair despite their usual order of Grande nonfat lattes. According to the magazine's source, "the barista thought the Olsens were too thin, so whenever they ordered their usual drink, he would replace the skim milk with full-fat." While we don't think the coffee-slinging superhero's plan did much in the way of turning the Olsens around, reading their friend's teary manifesto against evil concoctions like this might make them reconsider the kind of slim-fast buddies they've been hanging out with.

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Last night, we were finally treated to the David vs. David karoake Idol deathmatch that seemed such an inevitability for weeks now. You could practically smell the tension hanging over the Nokia Theater—a potent combination of baby powder, cherry-flavored lozenges, and young testosterone—as both worthy competitors took to the stage for a championship face-off that relied heavily upon boxing metaphor. (Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber was cast in the role of Mickey Goldmill, bandaging Archuleta's busted eye between songs as he implored the little belter to, "Keep hittin'em in the ribs ya see? Don't let that bastard breathe!")

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While the Cannes cognoscenti revel in the unblinking confessions of Mike Tyson in his eponymous documentary currently screening there, another opus of self-reflective, crazy-arse candor has found increasing traction at the festival as well. Like Tyson, Nick Nolte: No Exit reportedly features an unadulterated one-on-one session with its subject, but boosts the stakes with the added integrity of an unprecedented Nolte-on-Nolte grilling:

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Orlando-based pop svengali and accredited Boy-Band-Member Sunburn Inspector Lou Pearlman was sentenced today to 25 years in the fed for a decade-long scam that fleeced thousands of investors—including his own relatives—out of $300 million of their savings. It was the maximum sentence, but the judge showed some mercy by offering Pearlman one-month's deduction for every $1 million he returned. It's a crushing blow to the former impresario behind NSYNC, Backstreet Boys, and O-Town, though we're certain the born deal-maker will take full advantage of the virtual limitlessly supply of fresh male talent at his new home. Expect an all-con boy band resurgence in the coming years, with groups like Twenty2Life and Lockdown dominating the Billboard charts. [AP]

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With all the magnetized baked potatoes and dancing chihuahua sequences in store in this weekend's Indy 4, it's no surprise Harrison Ford's next on-screen project is as simple and easy to understand as possible. As we noted weeks ago, Ford was filming spots for an environmental group that prompted him to step in as copywriter and retool the scripts. And thank goodness he did — who else could have come up with this illuminating dialogue between the grizzly manscaping actor and, well, himself? Apparently, even big boys like Ford wince when hair is ripped from their shiny manly chests using hot wax. And that's how the environment feels. So get thee to the nearest beauty parlor, shoot the unsmiling waxer a charismatic flirty smirk or two, and save the planet already.

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Only a few days remain before Cannes ends and we can roll our bleary eyes from the backs of our heads. In the meantime, the rubbernecker in us can't help but take an interest in Spike Lee's latest sortie against the Hollywood establishment — this time as personified by Cannes darling Clint Eastwood, whom Lee railed against while promoting his upcoming Afro-centric World War II drama Miracle at St. Anna:

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Jessica Marie Alba and Cash Garner Warren were married on Monday in the Beverly Hills courthouse's ceremony room in Beverly Hills, California.

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Looking remarkably sober and well-recovered from last weekend's Cannes-diana Jones sojourn, Harrison Ford returned home Tuesday for the film's long-awaited Harlem premiere (yes, Harlem) and a requisite visit with David Letterman. The conversation quickly turned to Ford's piloting hobby — particularly his fondness for taking off in a Beaver. What? No, not a late-model Calista Beaver, but rather a vintage de Havilland model — the bulletproof kind flown covertly by the CIA during Vietnam. Naturally Letterman's audience followed his train of thought straight into the gutter, but an unfazed Ford stuck to the high road with tales of his soaring journeys into the bush. If only Kevin Spacey had shown the host so much class the night before. [The Late Show With David Letterman]