Although I remember random events on Neighbours which occurred back in 1987 with disturbing clarity, sometimes I can't remember things which happened a few months back.

Thus, I was surprised to learn today that McLeod's Daughters would be returning to Channel Nine as the last I could recall, stars of the show were selling stuff on eBay and struggling to pay off their mortgages since the show had been axed.

But then I remembered "Ahhh yes, the program was 'boned' but the final series hadn't been televised yet, leaving Simmone Jade McKinnon unable to stroll down to the shops without McLeod's Daughters fans approaching her and demanding to know when Channel Nine would be broadcasting the remaining 22 episodes... Oh, the tragedy!"

So chin up, Simmone Jade McKinnon - all is right in your world again. Sort of.

McLeod's Daughters, Australia's most popular and successful rural drama, promises to go out in a season of great stories when it returns for its eighth and last series on Wednesday, July 23 at the new time of 8.30pm on Channel Nine.

Since its 1996 telemovie debut which produced the Logie Award-winning series, McLeod's Daughters has captured a unique portrait of life on the land for women, with all its hardship, beauty and romance.

Shot entirely on location in Kingsford, South Australia, the series centres on the vast cattle property Drovers Run and the lives and loves of the women who work it.

And it seems there's quite a few amazing storylines coming to a small screen near you. Read it all here, but some highlights (for me, because I am a fool) include -

Romance is in the air as new couples hook up and old ones reunite, while a love triangle causes havoc for the women.

An all woman love triangle? Please, say it's so - Divers Run has much more of a ring to it. I APPROVE.

This series will also feature an all-singing and dancing musical episode, and some familiar characters return to Drovers Run as well.

I would be surprised about this musical turn of events, except Clem assures me she once saw an episode of the show where Jay Laga'aia played the archangel Gabriel, so clearly this program knows no boundaries.

Perhaps you would. Therefore, here is something that isn't Sweet About Me - it's called Save The Lies (Good To Me), and the ever brilliant Pop Justice says:

Anyway as well as sounding quite different from 'Sweet About Me' 'Save The Lies' comes with a video which is totally not boring (unlike the 'Sweet About Me' video which was so tedious that our boringometer exploded and is still awaiting repair).

Warning: contains images of a Newton Faulkner lookalike nature.

Let's have a peep, shall we?

She looks awesome, but I'm not sure about the song - it seems to be lacking something. But what do I know? I've put Phil Collins forward as the man responsible for the greatest song ever written. I am about as relevant to music right now as the sock my dog is chewing as I type.

This song won't leave my head, and I have no idea what they're saying!

Some background - there's an Aussie fellow in that there girlgroup...

· If you didn't happen to catch Victoria—one part Cats, one part JonBenét Ramsey, and one part boneless chicken breast—on America's Got Talent, now's your chance. Just give this girl the trophy (or whatever it is they give on that show) already! [AGT]
· The lifeless carcass of Bravo's Project Runway was discovered inside a giant roll of chenille at the back of Mood Fabrics. [Gawker]
· Wow! Another original 90210 cast member was able to shuffle things around to accommodate an appearance on the new version. This must be one special spin-off. [Us]
· Pam Anderson pledges "no stripping" on her three-day stint as Australian Celebrity Big Brother's "uber special VIP guest." No matter how hard they ask. Unless they get her drunk. Or ask. [Sun]
· We're happy to inform you that http://rim.jobs is totally safe for work. [http://rim.jobs]

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For all the veins of Dark Knight interest Warner Bros. has opened among stampeding fanboys, late-night talk-show hosts and, er, Michael Bay, at the end of the day nothing succeeds like success. To wit: When your showtimes — midnight to 6 a.m. in some markets — become national news, you can probably just put the campaign on cruise-control and move on to the next film:

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Surely they must've seen this one coming - Pamela Anderson, in the country to film a stint in the Big Brother house, and apparently paid loads to do so - has continued her animal rights campaigning for PETA while down under, requesting meetings with Kevin Rudd to discuss live exports, and so on.

But, somewhat deliciously, her main target is KFC, otherwise known as one of Big Brother's major sponsors.

Suddenly BB are wishing they'd gone with Tara Reid.

Less than five hours after arriving in Australia yesterday, the 41-year-old ambassador for animal welfare group PETA announced that tomorrow she would deliver a letter protesting KFC's treatment of chickens to a Gold Coast KFC outlet.

The letter and accompanying video - addressed to Albert Baladi, the managing director of KFC's Australian parent company - claims the fast food chain's suppliers scald chickens to death in defeathering tanks.

The serial Playboy bunny admitted she had agreed to appear on Ten's reality TV show because she was being paid "a lot".

"Much more than I'm worth. I had to come. I can't believe it," she said. Asked if her pay cheque of was in excess of $500,000, she replied: "I don't want to say how much, but it was a lot."

Awesome, I love Pammy - pocketing the cash, saying she doesn't care who sponsors the show, and staying true to what she believes in. That's the spirit!

Let's hope angry Selma Blair doesn't read this one, because we all know how much she hates us Colonials dissin' her country's version of our successful comedy franchises...

Except this time, even her own countrymen are saying Kath & Kim, US-of-A style, will blow chunks!

Well, at least in a ratings sense.

Each year, New York-based firm Horizon Media analyses the new shows for the all-important American autumn TV season and predict what series will be hits and what will be misses and quickly axed.

NBC's Kath & Kim was circled as one of the expected weak performers.

The bad press comes as the US TV network begins to promote the series ahead of its October 9 debut.

NBC has invested heavily in the show. It cast Molly Shannon, one of America's most loved comediennes after a six-year stint on sketch comedy show Saturday Night Live, as Kath and big screen actress, Selma Blair, who stars in the new action film Hellboy 2: The Golden Army, as Kim.

NBC also juggled its schedule around to give Kath & Kim the best chance of success. The show will air as the final piece of NBC's Thursday night comedy block.

I think, if it does suck - and it probably will - we should organise some sort of massive, nationwide protest, like every person in the country InterFlora-ing an "I'm Sorry For Your Loss..." card to Selma Blair, or maybe aerial shots of people on every beach in the country using their bodies to spell out "NER NERNY NER NER! WE MILKED YOU!!"

Or something similarly mature.

That sand-diving, levitating make-out partner Sarah Larson has gone ahead and surprised us again. Ever since those racy photos from her pre-George days pleasantly shocked us a bit, we could always count on the Vegas hostess to say or do something not so intelligent and turn our frowns upside down. From showering Clooney's home with scented candles to pouting over defamatory voice messages on George's answering machine, Larson never failed to please. And the bobble-headed minx has done it again. When asked by Hello! what exactly she adored about George, she lists some yawn-worthy traits like humor(!), kindness(!), and famewhore enabling(!), but the one thing Sarah says she loved most about the guy who spent most of their relationship on crutches? His "dance moves." Of course. Because judging by these photos of Clooney busting a move, those "interpretive" lessons he took a few years ago really paid off.

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Amy Winehouse blah blah blah taking drugs blah doing bad shit and blah blah not very good live performances blah don't forget to feed the cat blah and buy milk...

Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realise you were reading already! For those of you who are here for Winegums Watch, evidently Amy has been punching on in London pubs and now has been snapped whacking her own bodyguard. And, well, let's just say this isn't a great look, Amy:

As the piece says:

[B]y the looks of things he felt the full force of her hand, grimacing in pain as she went in for another blow.

Wearing red shorts and a 1950's style black shirt, Amy looked glamorous but dishevelled as she entered her North London abode leaving the unlucky minder behind her.

But he can take solace in the knowledge he's not the only one to have been on the receiving end of Amy's temper.

She was seen striking a fan outside her Camden flat, claiming he had pinched her bottom.

Prior to this, the singer hit out at another fan after he touched her beehive at Glastonbury.

Good times, eh Amy? I have to say, I don't usually pay much attention to the comments sections on Daily Mail pieces (which rate just above "primordial ooze" and just below "Andrew Bolt forums" on the 'moral human beings' scale), but this one is a corker:

My ten year old son was discussing Amy Winehouse with another friend and said 'That's what happens if you take drugs - you die'.

From the mouths of babes...

Evidently the world is reeling from the fact that Nicole Kidman and Keith Urban called their baby "Sunday", after noted Australian art champion and Heide doyenne, Sunday Reed - first the local papers got all "here's the scoop on Sunday's mystery name", now it's reached the UK and the Mail has looked into the "story". Sorry, that should read, "revealed" the story.

For real:

The mystery of Nicole Kidman's unusual name choice for her newborn daughter has been solved.

The Oscar-winner's father revealed 'Sunday' was inspired by an Australian arts patron notorious for her lurid love life.

Antony Kidman said the name was first suggested by him and his wife Janelle, who drew inspiration from prominent Australian Sunday Reed.

The piece goes on to trot out the same tired and sexist "OMG polyamorous relationships! OMG affairs! OMG sordid!" lines as pretty much every other piece on Reed has done over the last few days.

But seriously, it's just not that mysterious or weird - off the top of my head, I know at least three Sundays. Has it really come to this?

If you're a particularly glam lady, known more for your extensive and jealousy-inducing collection of Hermes Birkin Bags and designer duds than you are for, say, stepping out in a tracksuit to get some milk and fags from the shops, what would be more terrifying for you: your plane nearly blowing up because a bird is sucked through the engine, or being seen in your airline-issue PJs?

If you are Victoria "Posh Spice" Beckham, you will choose the latter option.

Passengers screamed as the pilot slammed on the brakes and the plane screeched to a halt.

Fire crews were called on to the runway to douse the craft's overheated brakes with foam.

It was then that the horrifying scale of the disaster really hit home for Victoria -- she realised she was wearing standard-issue aircraft pyjamas and no make-up.

The Spice Girl launched into the emergency position and grabbed her high heels, designer clobber and lipstick.

She then stayed on the cancelled Los Angeles to London carrier to complete her showbiz transformation while the other passengers were bussed back to the terminal.

Atta girl, Victoria - you don't want to break the fourth wall... or whatever.

Do you think she even owns casual clothes? Or is she just like Our Alannah Hill, who thinks casual clothes and flat shoes are "disturbing"?

As far as circles of hell go, we've already established you can't really do much worse than the Television Critics Association semi-annual press tours — the gaseous summer version of which is feeding the palms in Beverly Hills as we speak. But it's not just the bloggers and bitter ideologues who have ruined the bed-in between networks, stars and the writers who love them (until the expense account runs out, anyway); we're learning more today about why the TCA tour may have bottomed out earlier than predicted, featuring an opening cavalcade of virtually uncoverable has-beens and hypocrites who don't bode well for the future of, well, anything. From the WaPo:

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As Tom Cruise loves to remind us on his website, he's been prancing around Hollywood for 25 years, playing all kinds of roles we vaguely remember. But who knew all that hard work had been mere preparation for his landmark role in a one-man Village People biopic? In an apparent nod to American history, the patriotic Cruise temporarily abandoned hope for a truce between his army of Xenuphobes and Germany, choosing to split the difference and celebrate this wonderful country L. Ron Hubbard called home. In between the COS founder's time travelling vacations to ancient Rome and DeLorean rides to the future, that is. And now that Cruise has donned a cowboy hat, tight jeans, and a fitted tee, he's officially paid homage to each bandmate from that gayer-than-gay feel-good group of song-and-dance men who would surely welcome Cruise into a singalong of "It's Raining Men." So among Tom's many characterizations of the Navy Boy, Earnest Construction Worker, Bad Boy Officer and, of course, Leatherman, which Village Person's heels shoes does Tom fill out best?

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As we round the corner onto the 17th month of weist-loss guru Angelina Jolie's seemingly interminable pregnancy (we're picturing the twins refusing to come out until the winner of their marathon, inter-uterus Boggle tournament is finally determined), the AP brings us this photo taken outside the Lenval Hospital in Nice, where Jolie is currently checked in under the assumed name of "J. Aniston." In it, a hospital worker can be clearly seen applying some kind of top-secret, high-tech material, developed by scientists at France's struggling space program, that effectively prevents any photographers from capturing any member of the Jolie-Pitt clan on film. (Amazingly, anyone else who happens to be in the room develops just fine, resulting in eerie shots of a staff of nurses and doctors fussing over empty space.)

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Silly Kirsten Dunst. Temporarily living outside of her natural celeb-friendly West coast habitat where any late-night messiness is handily kept on the DL by celebrity-catering club warlords, the recently rehabbed star is currently staying in New York while filming All Good Things. And the many sightings sent in by helpful Manhattanites haven't exactly painted Dunst as the soberific poster child perfected of late by Miss Lindsay Lohan. The NY Post chimes in today reporting that Dunst continued her boy-crazy habits of yore by making out with the DJ at the celeb-infested Beatrice Inn two nights ago. But a Defamer tipster had the pleasure of spotting Kirsten last night at the same bar, and rather than cozying up to the same DJ, the actress spent the entire night flirting, following, and eventually frisking another Beatrice regular: that talented thespian, Josh Hartnett. Details on what our tipster witnessed, and which Olsen twin watched the romance blossom from afar, after the jump.

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ABC has a big, dumb hit on its hands with Wipeout, which, despite a 5% drop from its premiere, finished second once again this week behind America's Got Talent. Alas, the network's would-be monopoly on lowest-common-denominator horseshit is threatened today as word gets around that ABC might be hewing a little too close to Spike TV's own padded-obstacle-course mash-up MXC. Spike is apparently taking the lift in stride, but MXC's co-creator has his own theories; after all, a rip-off would be one thing — the nets are built on them these days.

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We realise it's challenging to keep up with this whole A-Rod/ Madonna/ affair/ divorce/ something-about-Lenny Kravitz business, a convoluted celebrity love-polygon which we wouldn't be the least bit surprised to learn also involved Gary Coleman, Eliot Spitzer, and a Coors Light Twin. Still, you wouldn't want to be caught at some swanky dinner party filled with effete liberal elites and not have your talking points straight. Here's a round-up of the latest:
· A personal trainer present at the exact moment Kravitz learned he was embroiled in the primordial tabloid ooze said he "looked like he was going to throw up." The link between he, Madonna, and A-Rod is manager Guy Oseary, who told Kravitz he was going to "pimp out" the singer and Yankee. Whatever that means, Kravitz disapproved of it, and fired the manager a couple weeks later. He claims to have never had an affair with Cynthia Rodriguez; this was just a retaliatory smear campaign. [NY Post]

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Embattled pet-owner Dane Cook is finally being made to answer for his Pinscher-loaf sins, as his eviction trial for failing to pick up after his miniature canine companion Beast has just completed the jury selection process. (See him attacked by pragmatic paparazzi—"C'mon, Dane. It's just dog crap!"—above.) Among the questions asked by his counsel of potential candidates:

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The upcoming issue of Star breathlessly reports that Spencer Pratt Attack ringleader and excellent on-screen kisser Mary-Kate Olsen might be headed back to the floral pastures of celebrity rehab any day now. The mag's sources cite a quasi-recent "collapse" outside an LA club, ongoing depression over her "lover" Heath Ledger's sudden death, and brewing tension between MK and her more low-key twin, Ashley. But, as we pointed out earlier this month, the twinset's more rebellious (and interesting) half is on a roll. After appearing on her first Elle cover solo, starring in a critically praised indie movie and, of course, teaming up with David Letterman in a campaign to destroy everyone's most hated reality villain, Mary-Kate hasn't shown any signs of crumbling. We took a closer look at this alleged collapse, the odds that Ledger and the itty bitty billionaire were in any way involved romantically, just how grave the tiny twosome's differences are, and came up with three reasons why we don't buy it.

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The inevitable karmic payback for Fraggle Rock: The Movie is coming swift and severe at The Weinstein Company, where Harvey Weinstein is reduced to bringing in outsiders to get two of his long-delayed passion projects off the ground. Relativity Media appears ready to kick in at least half of Nine's $80 million budget, meaning the long-delayed, Daniel Day-Lewis/Nicole Kidman-starring musical will finally start shooting this fall.

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In the ungoverned wilds of Chinese industry, where intellectual property is barely policed by the ineffectual People's Glorious Bureau of Familiar Western Faces and Poultry Grading, it's not an uncommon occurrence to stumble upon an A-list celebrity gracing the packaging of some 99¢ Only-store-bound product.

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We knew all about the Chinese warship fires, Daniel Craig finger severings and a few other violent tragedies to have recently befallen the sets of several high-profile film shoots. But we never quite thought of it as what one might classify as a trend, that three-to-a-bundle happenstance requiring pieces like the one in today's LA Times hinting stunt snafus are the newest, hottest, must-have Hollywood mishaps:

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There's a reason publicists are accustomed to marking the star of Meet Dave on Hollywood guest lists as "Murphy, Eddie; +/- 1," and never was it more apparent than at yesterday's premiere, where the PG-13-ghettoized actor was a last-minute no-show. A frustrated insider took to the DataLounge message boards to vent:

THIS is why Eddie Murphy lost the Oscar.
And why he's so hated in Hollywood.

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The nuclear labour plume at left is presented a little closer to actual size this morning, the start of the first full day without the specter of strike hell exhaling waves of rancid breath over Hollywood. Not that AFTRA's ratification of its prime-time contract Monday evening vanquishes the SAG threat altogether; the 62.4% tally in favour of AFTRA's deal with the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers suggests that while a strike vote might fail, SAG leadership convinced probably upwards of 10,000 AFTRA members to stand down in the pitched battle between unions.

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