Those handsome Followills of Nashville have just popped their latest tune 'Sex On Fire' onto their MySpazz page. What are your thoughts? It's from the album Only By The Night which is due out quite shortly. I heard from a friend that some dude from Kings Of Leon's record company was calling a new Kings Of Leon track "the single of the year" but I have a feeling they may have been referring to the single which will be released after 'Sex On Fire'.

Also, when did Ryan Adams join the band?

MORE: Kings Of Leon on MySpace

Dear Qantas,

Please, get your shit together. It's breaking my heart to keep reading about your woes.

A QANTAS Boeing 737 has aborted a take-off at Melbourne Airport after noises were heard coming from the undercarriage. The Canberra-bound plane returned to the terminal and passengers were transferred to another flight.

A Qantas spokeswoman says QF850 had problems with its air conditioning duct unit.

"It was a routine return to the terminal due to an air-conditioning fault," she said. "Rather than delay passengers further a replacement aircraft was arranged and the flight took off just before 1pm."

The incident is the latest in a recent run of scares for Australia's national airline.

I miss the days when we knew we could depend on you. Although to be fair, I think there's a slight chance the media is jumping upon absolutely everything they can in order to make it look as though your fleet is made up of a couple of tin death traps rescued from the scrapyard after WWII.

When I first heard Nicole Kidman and Keith Urban had called up Kyle and Jackie O to give them the lowdown on little Sunday Rose, I thought "Wow, that's a weird combination - do Nic and Keith really sit and listen to those 2Day FM idiots when they're in town?"

And you know what I learned from listening to Kyle and Jackie O's exclusive interview with the loved up pair?

Firstly, I learned that Nicole is happy to admit on air that she and Keith listen to the show every morning. Unexpected!

Secondly, I learned that listening to Kyle and Jackie O doesn't make me as violent as it used to years ago. Have they improved or am I just more tolerant these days? WHY AM I NOT HATING KYLE SANDILANDS LIKE I USED WHEN LIFE MADE SENSE?! This feels just like that time Perez Hilton made me laugh out loud.

Anyway, it's a pretty good interview with both Nicole and Keith, and I am as surprised as you are to be saying that. Be sure to listen out for the bit where Kyle tells Keith he was going to send them a pony as a gift following Sunday's birth but was informed by Keith's people that there were "no facilities" on Keith's ranch in Nashville for such a present.

In a rather sweet moment, you can hear Keith pull the phone away and giggle to Nic "They were going to send us a pony, baby!" and Nicole laughs heartily in response.

Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!

Also: Sunday Rose is a confirmed ginger. Sorry, ranga!

Now you can kill me for having enjoyed a Kyle and Jackie O segment. Thank you.

My beloved chum Dave the Scot alerted me to this astoundingly rubbish assessment of the Australian music press, as penned for The Guardian by UK rock critic Everett True who has moved to Brisbane and found himself bitterly disappointed by the local street press. Now, I'm not saying we have the greatest music rags in the world, but the following opening paragraph is just complete shit.

Australians don't have much respect for the music press - it runs counter to their culture. Australian rock is all about "Good on ya, mate - well done for getting up on stage and switching that amplifier on". The idea of anyone actually daring to criticise musicians for the sound they make is almost heresy. Everyone is treated equally, which means no knocking anyone back, however great the temptation. (That'll be why Australian rock is best known to the outside world for such musical abominations as Silverchair, the Vines and Savage Garden.) Sport is the predominant culture here, and music is similarly viewed as a leisure activity - it's all about "work rate", "dedication" and "goals scored". Unsurprisingly, Australians get the music press they deserve.

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Alright, I know the Olympics are a competitive time and there's nothing athletes like better than talking a little 'smack' (as they say in the 'hood), but even I was surprised by how wonderfully aggressive Lauren Jackson's warning to lady-basketballers from other countries was!

Opals superstar Lauren Jackson has warned rivals they risk serious injury if they get physical on court with the Australian women's team. Lauren Jackson fired a stinging warning yesterday to arch-rivals USA in the wake of their bruising 71-67 loss on Tuesday night. The narrow defeat left Australia's attacking weapon Penny Taylor with a badly bruised eye.

Uh-oh. That shit ain't gonna fly. Lauren? Bring it.

"In terms of physicality we're used to playing against teams that are going to beat the crap out of us, becase we are so good," Jackson said.

See how in simply one sentence, Lauren Jackson has managed to raise awareness of the fact certain teams are rather bash-happy on the court when facing off with the Opals, indicated that the Opals are tough enough to handle such malarkey, and then boasted of the Australian team's extremely ace skills. Gals got game, you see.

"People have to stop us somehow, and that's the way they're going to stop us especially people like us; Penny and myself and Belinda Snell who you just can't let go to the basket because we'll kill people."

SHE JUST WENT THERE, PEOPLE!

If this was some sort of canny plan hatched by Lauren in order to get punters intrigued enough to tune into their games during the Olympics, then it's bloody well worked. I know I will be tuning in to all their matches, and baying for blood.

For whatever reason, the UK press has gone eerily quiet on the topic of Winegums this past week or so (it perhaps has something to do with the results of this highly reputable survey). So, in an effort to keep the Winegums hits coming, I looked beyond the holy trinity of the Daily Mail, The Sun and Mirror - and wasn't I pleased I did. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you this stunning update from "Entertainment & Showbiz, India"!

A track from Amy Winehouse's latest album would certainly turn out to be a song to savour, literally so, for it is based on cooking meatballs.

While Amy's been keen to eat healthily and put on weight since she came out of hospital last month, her new album is reportedly an attempt to recapture her childhood.

The unnamed track goes: "I can cook, chicken soup, meatballs, a good chicken - jerk and fried."

Amy revealed that she used to pop into the kitchen of her favourite boozer The Hawley Arms, grab some frozen mince, and make meatballs for her pals after boozy nights out.

Jeez, Londoners, you sure picked a good time to stop tuning in to the Winegums frequency - just look at the material you're missing out on! This is quality shit right here! Who else wants some of this sweet, sweet Amy Winehouse news?! Now, if you'll excuse me, it's time for my 12-step meeting.

When it comes to television programming, what's worse? Buying in programs that everyone knows are crap (step right up, Channel Nine!), rootling around in the archives for "exclusives" (ahoy, Channel Seven!), or signing the cheque on a series without so much as looking at the pilot? If you're Channel Ten, then apparently the latter is the lesser of three evils - they've bought the nouveau 90210 sight-unseen!

Ten's head of programming David Mott said the show was already generating worldwide buzz, with the mix of original cast members and hot new talent appealing to Beverly Hills 90210 virgins sealing the deal.

"Generation X, who were targeted in the 1990s, have grown up and the show is already creating buzz in Generation Y," Mott said.

"I think it's a no brainer . . . in our initial discussions with producers we were talking about the issues that faced Generation X and they haven't gone away."

I particularly like how if you read that fast, it looks like Mott is complaining that Generation X haven't gone away. In any case, this could actually be a good move on the part of Ten (you know, assuming that the show doesn't actually blow, that is): they'll hook in the Gen Xers and hopefully some young'uns who have been listlessly drifting through Supré since the day Marissa Cooper died.

· We should really watch CNN more often: A spoonful of Big Gay Bitch Anderson Cooper's ultracatty insights into the Lohan clan really helps the hard news go down. [CNN]
· Whew—that was a close one. Mary Kate Olsen is officially off the hook after the U.S. Attorney's Office closes the case on Heath Ledger's death. [People]
· Gawker urges journalists covering the Olympics to search out the next Tonya Harding. "Why? Whyyy?" Ah—that never gets old. [Gawker]
· Mr. Blackwell is at death's door! (Death looks hideous by the way—that cloak is so drab and dowdy.) [ETOnline]
· Canadians are not as nice as previously assumed. [Yahoo]

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Apparently, NBC has decided to continue going through the paces of finding America's Top Talent-Haver, when clearly feline pretzel-girl Victoria already has this rodeo all sewn up. Still, there's something to be said for adhering to reality show protocol—particularly when tucking royalty struts among us—and so we were more than happy to take in Drag Tina Turner's electrifying semi-final audition, which unfolded with clockwork precision as her main competition, Drag Britney Spears, watched nervously from the wings. Of course, there was only room for one drag finalist; that, unfortunately, went to neither performer, but rather a Victoria impersonator—played by a 55-year-old, four-foot-tall Chinese-American letter carrier from Sioux Falls, SD—who proved as astonishingly flexible as his adorably whiskered inspiration.

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After winding his way through a media-sponsored meltdown that saw him terrorize Conan O'Brien, endure torture on Donnie Deutsch, and ultimately resign from the Howard Stern show, comedian Artie Lange pulled out of the Bob Saget roast this past weekend to check himself into rehab. Says Page Six:

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Remember "the frigid game"? That stupid primary school gag where a boy (usually) would drag his finger down a girl's body until she could take no more, upon which said boy would run around hooting, "Frigid! Frigid!" No, you're right, most human adults left that one behind in about Grade Four - but not our Kyle Sandilands, who tried to spring the game on 2Day FM guest Jennifer Hawkins. Here's the transcript:

Jennifer: I was pretty frigid at school, I didn't kiss a guy till Year Nine.

Jackie: Do you want to play it?

Jennifer: I don't know!

Jackie: A guy will start at your forehead with his finger and will go down your nose and down, down, down till you pull out when you want to.

Jennifer: I can't do that! I would be frigid!

Kyle: Everyone always says you can pull out when you want to but when you've started, you've started.

Jackie: Is this harassment, are we harassing our guest?

Jennifer: You're sexually harassing me!

Kyle: We didn't really explain it to Jackie, it took her a while to realise she was being violated on the radio. It doesn't mean you aren't a decent person, Jackie's just a bit more slutty than you.

Wow, sexually harassing the guests and your co-host? It's the Kyle Sandilands way! Just think, this is the sort of hi-jinks that "King Kyle" bride-to-be Tamara Jaber gets to look forward to at the end of every day. FOR THE REST OF HER LIFE, UNTIL DEATH DO THEY PART.

Nicole Kidman and Keith Urban have finally brought daughter Sunday Rose to Australia where she belongs to meet the press grandparents and ride in the pouch of a passing kangaroo while drinking Vegemite out of a sippy-cup (or something like that). Predictably, Our Nicole's favourite people - the paparazzi - were waiting for them. But not so fast, deviant snappers of the night!

Decoy cars helped to block the press in pursuit, while an aviation fuel tanker and luggage trailers were also strategically parked to limit vision to the jet and couple's cars.

In a twist of fate, the actor's nemesis, paparazzo Jamie Fawcett, was detained by police for a roadside check, while he was en route to the Kidman's harbourside home.

Can't you just see Fawcett waving his fist in the air and shouting, "And I woulda made it, too, if it wasn't for you meddling kids!"? Defamer Australia looks forward to seeing Sunday Rose hitting the water at Bondi Beach with a "swim nappy" on and a swipe of fluorescent green and gold Zinc Stik across her nose.

Every now and again, as Defamer Australia peruses the daily news, we are given pause to wonder just how many people are actually running some of Australia's online news "presences". From crazy typos to hilarious Photoshops, their antics are a bottomless well of (unwitting) entertainment that suggests there is actually only one man and a couple of hamsters working in the "digital" departments. To wit, this fresh tidbit in Herald Sun Confidential's 'Confidential Reports' section:

Not only is it discussing last year's Idol prize fight, but it uses the year before's Damien Leith and Jessica "Do What You Do, Say What You Say" Mauboy to illustrate it. Incidentally, has anyone seen or heard from Natalie Gauci lately? Who's excited for this year's installment of the popular televisual talent quest franchise? Now now, one at a time, please!

In a development that induces horrible flashbacks to Kath & Kim being plucked from the ABC by Seven's flying monkeys, the commercial network sharks have started circling the blokes from The Chaser, evidently seeing a cash cow in the political satire show. Whether or not the boys actually take the offer is another question, considering Chas Licciardello's, er, unusual bargaining requests:

"At the moment the commercial networks aren't offering us the right carrots," Licciardello told AAP.

"We've been offered money, we've been offered better conditions but I'm yet to be offered an affair with Kerri-Anne Kennerley," Licciardello joked.

"When they start offering the real stuff then we'll start thinking of going but until then they're just not trying."

Chas you rogue! The bitter irony of all this is that, knowing Channel Nine's solid morals, one can actually imagine a lackey being dispatched to Kennerly's dressing room with a memo saying, "Look, Kerri-Anne, you've done a lot of great things for Nine, but we have a new project for you..." if they thought that the Chaser boys were going to be the answer to all the network's problems. Run, Kerri-Anne, run as far away as you can!

There's really no gentle way to put his, so we'll just cede the podium to Star magazine for the latest news involving Shia LaBeouf's injured hand:<

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As first noted here a few weeks back, ye olde stalled Robin Hood epic Nottingham is all but dead in the water now at Universal, where Ridley Scott, Russell Crowe and Sienna Miller were locked in to start shooting this month before a flurry of setbacks delayed it indefinitely. As presumed, labour woes and casting haggles were indeed among the pitfalls, but you have to know that an implosion of this magnitude can't simply stop there — as described after the jump, Crowe's weight, Scott's attention span, script haggles and other factors also conspired to keep Hollywood out of the forest this time around.

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First Shia LaBeouf broke his hand, now George Lucas breaks his heart: Speaking exclusively to MTV News, Lucas elaborated on the promised Indiana Jones 5, assuring disgruntled Indy fans that the sequel wouldn't centre on LaBeouf's character, Mutt. "Indiana Jones is Indiana Jones. Harrison Ford IS Indiana Jones. If it was Mutt Williams it would be 'Mutt Williams and the Search for Elvis' or something." Lucas then paused, later calling David Koepp to pitch him an ending where Graceland rises spinning from the ground, blasting into outer space to return Mutt to his home planet. [MTV Movies Blog]

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There was a time in Hollywood history when getting inside a madame's little black registry—the most ferociously guarded record on Earth—required iron-clad court subpoenas. Even then it was often too late, with elite squads from the L.A. Johns Recovery Unit prying their way inside whorehouse attic safe-rooms, only to discover the frantic proprietor cowering inside like a cornered racoon as she gulped down its last crumpled pages. Anything it took, really, to prevent those precious mogul and sitcom star names from entering the public sphere. Today, of course, things have changed considerably—all it takes is one accidental click of the Reply All function, and your entire client list is bounced from Hollywood inbox to inbox in a matter of nanoseconds. Scandalist.com reports:

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They're one of Hollywood's most glorious odd couples: pixie dream girl Natalie Portman and Manson-resembling folk singer Devendra Banhart. Still, despite the fact that Portman was game enough to appear as an octopus in one of Banhart's videos, she still can't seem to shake those naysayers clucking, "Is she really going out with him?" She is — and she's hardly the first fresh-scrubbed starlet to fall for a charming, soap-eschewing bohemian. With the help of Molly McAleer, we've put together a Top Ten list of the world's most loved-up hippie womanizers. Is it their devil-may-care facial hair, their free love attitudes, or their penchant for sharing necklaces that draws in Hollywood's most beautiful ingenues? Burn some incense and meditate on the subject — we'll be out back crafting a swingset out of hemp and spit.

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So, yes, buttery-voiced leadflipper Morgan Freeman is recovering from injuries sustained in a terrible car accident, in which he and a female passenger who wasn't his wife— 48-year-old Demaris Meyer—were lucky to emerge alive. There were whispers, of course, about the nature of their relationship—rumors not likely to die down now that it's been confirmed that the Dark Knight star is in the process of divorcing his wife of 24 years, costume designer Myrna Colley-Lee. From AccessHollywood.com:

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An eagle-eyed, Craigslist-scavenging informant today points us to a compelling career opportunity for the ambitious dreamer in you: A "high-ranking staffer on a hit dance reality show" is in dire need of a new assistant after the last one apparently agreed to assist him (or her, we suppose) full-time in bed:

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Putting together a celebrity slideshow isn't for the faint of heart: just ask our own Molly McAleer, whose titanic work in the pursuit of compilations could kill a lesser man (and has — don't ask us about that intern in '06). So how do you survive filling out an eleven-page slideshow when your subject is that most rarest of species: celebrity virgins? Well, if you're an employee at Us Weekly, you cheat a little, padding your list with both non-virgins and non-celebrities alike!

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We hate to pile on more misery for Corey Feldman, having just spit his final goodbyes at former best friend Corey Haim after a tender sneaker-note gesture went awry. But we simply had to share some recently unearthed lost performance footage, in which the actor/poolside musician—who spoke out against Michael Jackson during that singer's 2005 child molestation trial—appears to be singing in white-soul-inflected tongues while being possessed by the groin-thrusting spirit of the deposed Pop King himself. The YouTube page hosting this monstrosity comes with an appropriately severe caution ("Warning! This video is very disturbing!"), but we encourage you to tough it through to the very end, if only to experience the vicarious sweet release of one audience member who had simply had enough.

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Big Rob—the leviathan security detail who rose to national prominence hurtling away Britney Spears's paparazzi tormentors with one swat of his canoe-sized arms—has started a blog. Now employed by the fraternal order of avant-garde multi-instrumentalists more commonly known as the Jonas Brothers, Big Rob has been promoted from his overzealous-teenbopper-pummeling duties to become an actual member of the band. But let's let Rob explain, directly from his blog's home at RyanSeacrest.com—your full-service online source for all the completely stupid things Ryan Seacrest cares about it, apparently!

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The recent taping of Bob Saget's Comedy Central Roast was bound to take a wrong turn sooner or later — sooner, in fact, if the comic's filthy inner circle evinced in The Aristocrats and other blue rooms over the years had anything to do with it. In fact, we'd bet dollars to donuts that the Gilbert Gottfried riff below was merely a mild, early pacesetter for an even more sordid night to come, which should roughly result in a seven-minute broadcast on Aug. 17 after the censors get a hold of it. We're told this clip is among those slashed, but really, aren't the Olsen Twin molestation gags we've been hearing about almost too easy under the circumstances? Would Candace Cameron jokes just be too on the nose? You tell us after the jump, and come on, Gil — don't get soft on us now.

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Now that Scarlett Johansson is finally hitting the road to stump for the upcoming Vicky Cristina Barcelona, reporters have seized on the opportunity to ask her about the important man in her life. No, not her fiancé Ryan Reynolds — we're talking about presidential candidate/father figure Barack Obama. You may recall how the actress made headlines back in June for discussing her email relationship with Obama, a sexy media fantasy that titillated reporters before the Obama campaign itself debunked it. Now, Johansson is claiming that the whole affair got too much attention because of the media's "extreme sexism":

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The week began with dreadful news: Morgan Freeman—the beloved actor whose comforting, buttery baritone could easily convince you to rack up credit card debt in the name of international athletic competition—was in a serious car accident along with a female passenger. Because both were wearing seatbelts in the 1997 Nissan Maxima, injuries were severe, but not dire. The actor suffered a "broken arm, broken elbow and minor shoulder damage," and required a four-and-a-half-hour surgery to "reconnect nerves and repair damage to his left arm and hand." A spokesperson said he was walking this morning and was looking forward to returning home.

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