The bromance between Chace Crawford and Ed Westwick is no more.

Theirs is the brotherly romance that never was. Yet they still started a million and one too obvious for words blind items. The pair have been in their cosy little non-love nest since 2007. In the early days of Gossip Girl they thought pooling together their assorted flat irons, gels and tubes of lube would be more cost-effective than each having their own crap.

You will all remember the early days of Gossip Girl and the terrible Brylcreem drought of 2007. Right? That was a time when lots of young, straight males who were in danger of running out of hair products thought it best to shack up together rather than risk being forced to live a life devoid of coiffing.

Well, it was around this time that fingers were being worn to the bone, concocting uninspired blind items about how the only thing these two were allegedly pooling was saliva. For the record, I for one don’t think they have been banging in plain view of the world’s media for two years. I totally buy Chace’s assertion that he was sick of living with ’slob’, Ed. Messy eaters and people who refuse to sleep in the wet spot are the worst. Bitches.

After all, there are only so many empty packets of condoms and so many panties down the back of the couch that one straight guy can take. Better for Chace to branch out and start slutting it up in his own place, rather than cleaning up after his partner in crime all the time.

Despite the rumours of a break-up of sorts, there are no rumours of animosity. A source told US Weekly:

Gossip Girl’s Chace Crawford has moved out of the NYC apartment he shares with costar Ed Westwick. The two have shared the apartment in the Chelsea neighborhood since they both first moved to the city after being cast in the hit CW series. The source says Crawford — who will star in the upcoming reboot of Footloose — moved out on Monday and into a rented penthouse apartment in the luxe Dwell 95 building in NYC’s Financial District. The reason for Crawford’s change of scenery? Apparently, Westwick is a slob, and Crawford couldn’t take the mess any longer, a source tells Us.

There. That’s That. Well, almost.

This shocking news comes in the same week as ‘the end of man bangs’ was declared. Pretty sure that phrase translates as well as the word ‘fag’, so you should know that ‘man bangs’ refers to the ridiculous floppy hairstyle previously sported by Chace and his identical eyebrow twin, Zac Efron.

Not sure how much more heartache their delusional fan-base can take. Slightly effeminate pretty-boys with under-developed torsos, cutting their hair and not generating homoerotic blind items, it’s enough to start legions of newly potty-trained fans wetting the bed again. We need to rally round and declare “guyliner” sacred, before that dies out too. Else the world will once again risk drowning in adolescent pee!

This was a guest blog by Amy Grindhouse, who has her own website and everything.

It’s fair to say that if you’re gay, Protestant or a follower of any other religion apart from Christianity, then The Pope will blow raspberries at you.

It’s the job of The Pope - otherwise known as God’s right hand man - to tell us we’re all living in deep sin and will burn in hell.

Apart from pestering people to not wear condoms, The Pope doesn’t really have much in common with young people. You won’t see him in line at the kebab shop after dancing away at a seven hour rave. However, you could see him holding up the lines at the local cinema as queues to see the latest Harry Potter flick.

We imagine that it’s quite difficult for The Pope to get out during the daytime. With an army of followers who are actually real and not just porn spam on Twitter, he’d be recognised everywhere he went, making it impossible for him to nip down the off license for a crate of Peroni and packet of pork scratchings. He’ll have angel-like minders to get things for him, but where’s the fun in that?

Confined to the inner walls of The Vatican where he does nothing but read the Bible and build crosses out of balsa wood, we imagine The Pope is bound to get a little bit bored. But any of his extracurricular activities would need to be at least semi-related to Christianity. So no Babestation for The Pope.

If we were The Pope, we’d start to write a rival religious text, adding subtle differences such as giving Jesus chainsaws for arms and Moses the ability to breathe fire. It would instantly bring a wave of new followers to Christianity.

Sadly, The Pope turned to Harry bloody Potter instead. As we all know, the Harry Potter series has been a worldwide success for JK Rowling. After destroying a small forest in order to print the millions of copies of books, there are now also lunchboxes, pencil cases and other pointless pieces of tat covered in Harry Potter’s wizardy face.

However, when The Pope sat down with his hotdog and diet coke, he was in for a nasty surprise. All this hocus pocus of making potions in a lab, flying around on a broomstick and generally having fun shocked him so much he dropped his half-eaten penis-shaped snack! This isn’t the Christian way at all. Subsequently the following papal statement was issued about Harry Potter:

“The character was evil and born of “the devil.”

Well that isn’t very good is it? Surely his influential comments would drive away tons of people from seeing the film. Oh wait, it didn’t. Never mind, at least the comments made for an interesting Grumpy Old Men audition tape if nothing more. But that was then - times have changed. Now The Pope loves Harry Potter so much that he’d like to make contact with Daniel Radcliffe via a hug. Which definitely wouldn’t be gay. According to the Vatican newspaper L’Osservatore Romano:

“Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince is the best of the series yet. The Vatican say that the film “made the age-old debate over good v evil crystal clear” and said it had the “correct balance” not exhibited in the other films.”

Why couldn’t The Pope have banned the film adaptation of Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code instead? Everyone in the world would have been united in happiness then. Not just pissed off cinema goers.

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Why did Jessica Simpson and Tony Romo split up? There are countless possible reasons, too many to list.

But only one of them is hilarious. So let’s go with that. Reports are suggesting that Tomy Romo ran away from Jessica Simpson because of her meddling, breast-fixated father, Joe Simpson. Apparently one of the factors for the split was Joe’s insistence on giving Tony endless advice about how to do his job properly.

It’s such a waste, especially when poor old Pete Wentz is crying out for advice about how to write better songs. And what a decent haircut looks like.

Everybody needs a father like Joe Simpson. That’s scientific fact. Without a Joe Simpson by your side, you’d probably end up stumbling through life making bad decision after bad decision and getting absolutely nowhere.

But with a Joe Simpson by your side, the world is your oyster. Need to turn your marriage to a boyband star into an MTV reality show that’ll make everyone question the integrity of the union and ultimately lead to a messy public divorce? Joe Simpson’s your man. Need to carve yourself a movie career that’ll inevitably crash to a standstill in a flurry of direct-to-DVD releases and one of the worst-performing movies ever made? Joe Simpson’s your man. Want a string of boyfriends who’ll never commit as much as you’d like them to because of your creepy overbearing father constantly breathing down their necks? Joe Simpson is definitely your man.

Because, even though the official reason given for the recent Jessica Simpson/ Tony Romo split was that their schedules keep them apart too much, some sources are saying that it’s all down to Old Man Simpson and his meddlin’ ways. Fox reports:

“At one point Joe was even giving Tony football advice which doesn’t go down well,” said an insider. “Tony was a football superstar before he got mixed up in Hollywood, this move will be probably be good at least for his career.”

It doesn’t seem completely fair to lay the break-up of Jessica Simpson’s relationship with Tony Romo completely at Joe Simpson’s door, though, does it? There could be hundreds of other factors involved - like, say, the way that Jessica Simpson looked quite fat in that pair of trousers that one time, or the way that Jessica Simpson wouldn’t shut up about how fat she looked in those trousers the one time she wore them, or the way that Jessica Simpson got so bloody obsessed with how she sodding looked in those arseing trousers that she ended up making a TV show about the pissing things.

But, admit it, the Joe Simpson story does have an air of plausibility to it. After all, Jessica Simpson is daddy’s little girl - and nobody will ever give her the loving that he does.

No, not like that.

OK, a bit like that. Ugh.

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The set-up of Jon & Kate Plus 8 is simple - he’s a chubby pushover, she’d kick a donkey in the face for cash.

That’s how it works. Kate Gosselin is the one who wants to pimp out her kids in TV shows and books and anything else that’d make her a quick buck, and Jon Gosselin is the one who mooches around silently in the background like a lost testicle. Isn’t it?

Nope - apparently Jon Gosselin is designing his own line of kid’s clothes. And his children will model it - especially the ‘Mommy Is A Heartless Shrew’ range of cotton dungarees.

The parallels between Jon and Kate Gosselin and Jordan and Peter Andre at the moment are slightly uncanny. Both couples were on television together all the time. Both couples are getting divorced. Both are famous despite their total lack of any discernible talent. Both relationships had an uncomfortable dynamic that involved the woman verbally putting the man down in a disinterested robot monotone at every opportunity. And you definitely, definitely wouldn’t like to spend even a single moment trapped in an enclosed space with any of them.

Crucially, though, it also seems like both sets of men are going to leave their relationship much more famous than they were when they entered it. Before he split up with Kate, Jon Gosselin was happy enough to play the put-upon, ambition-free loser to her evil, peacock-headed Terminator - but that’s all changed now.

People have grown so tired of Kate Gosselin that she’s not even allowed to publish her new cookbook, but Jon Gosselin? He’s on an unstoppable ascent. For instance, Jon spent last weekend frolicking about on a St Tropez yacht with a pretty young plastic surgeon’s daughter called Hailey Glassman, and now it’s been announced that he’s going to design a brand new range of kid’s clothes. The Chicago Sun-Times reports:

The newly separated “Jon & Kate Plus 8″ dad will create a line of children’s clothing with Christian Audigier. “Everyone knows this family. And everyone will know our clothes,” the French designer said. “They’ll be fun, easy clothes for kids.”… Glassman will “have a lot of input with Christian,” Gosselin said. And he said the eight kids from his 10-year marriage to Kate will model the clothes in ads.

OK, great, that sounds completely fine to us. No problems with letting your brand-new girlfriend - the one who’s directly related to the man who your ex-wife employed to make her look prettier - help to design a range of clothes that your own children will model in a series of high-profile adverts. That can absolutely not backfire on you, your ex-wife, your new girlfriend or any of your children in any way, shape or form whatsoever.

And, on the slightest off-chance that it does, at least it wouldn’t all be filmed for an internationally-broadcast television series that would act as a lasting reminder for you children of what a pair of utterly clueless parents they had, would it?

Oh, wait.

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9 - When Playboy models marry garden gnomes for cash: a tragic pictorial - Best Week Ever

8 - The Dyson Airblade continues to receive mad props as the king of all hand driers. Someone send us a Dyson airblade. DYSON AIRBLADE! - Interestment

7 - The Least Bearable People On TV. Make your predictions, and then click - Watch With Mothers

6 - Even Megan Fox needs to be drunk to watch her own films - Amygrindhouse

5 - Ladies and gentlemen, the archbishop of work-related anecdotes - Shoutingatcows

4 - The Torofluxus: we may not know what it is but, by God, we want one - Grandillusions

3 - Watch women punch each other in the mouth for cake in Covent Garden! Tomorrow! - Domesticsluttery

2 - Bacon: it comes in many forms, and only a handful of them are actually edible - AVclub

1 - The future looks awesome, as these PSAs happily prove…

If anyone has a spare medal lying around, would they mind posting it to Debbie Rowe? That woman is a hero.

Why? Because she’s achieved the impossible. Debbie Rowe has taken the already-complex Michael Jackson custody case and made it so astoundingly convoluted that it’d literally take an army of rocket scientists 4,000 years to properly understand it. Although it’s widely expected that she’ll fight for custody of Michael Jackson’s kids, some emails suggest that Debbie Rowe absolutely doesn’t want anything to do with them.

Still, she’s making children feel vulnerable and scared - and that’s what Michael Jackson would have wanted.

Looking at the impending custody brawl over Michael Jackson’s children, it’s hard not to feel a little bit sorry for the kids. It doesn’t matter what the outcome is - their lives are bound to end up worse no matter who gets them. And bear in mind that they grew up living in a spooky dilapidated abandoned fairground with a terrifying ghoul-faced drug addict who enjoyed dangling them from high-rise balconies, so that’s really saying something.

At the moment the kids are being cared for by Michael Jackson’s parents, which would be fine were it not for their demented insistence on forcing the children to become an all-singing, all-dancing revue act. And then, if Michael Jackson gets his way from beyond the grave, the children might end up with Diana Ross - which, again, would be fine were it not for the fact that a) she’s Diana Ross and b) that literally makes no sense whatsoever.

But still, hope is on the horizon, because Debbie Rowe is here, and she looks as if she’s about to throw her hat into the ring. Yes, she might have once given up her right to ever see or speak to the children again in exchange for a big pile of money. And, yes, there’s a particularly strong chance that she isn’t even the biological mother of any of them. But Debbie Rowe loves the children and wants to raise them as best she can in a safe and secure environment. Isn’t that right, New York Daily News?

“Do I want the kids? Hell no! Does it look good for me to ask for them? Absolutely,” [Debbie Rowe] wrote July 5 to friend Rebecca White, ExtraTV.com reported. “I don’t want to look like the woman who gave away her kids.”

Wise move, Debbie Rowe - nobody wants to look like the woman who gave away her kids. It’s much, much better to look like the woman who ended up caring for a bunch of children she has absolutely no interest in whatsoever, and doesn’t even seem to like very much, just because she didn’t want to look like the woman who gave away her kids. You’ve picked the rational choice, Debbie. Anyone in your position would do the same thing.

But let’s not count our chickens straight away - the custody battle has only just begun, so nobody has any idea who the children will end up with. And Uri Geller’s been keeping a suspiciously low profile of late, hasn’t he?

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Time for another corker of a hecklerspray competition - and this time the prize involves booze.

Not just booze, you understand, but a free VIP pass to Ministry Of Sound, a MOS rucksack, perfume, T-shirts, CDs and a copy of Tomas, the new novel by James Palumbo that Stephen Fry described as ‘remarkable’, even though that does seem to be Stephen Fry’s default response to everything these days, purely because it’s got three more syllables than the word ‘good’.

Anyway, it’s a good book - and if you want to win all that stuff we just described, we’ll be seeing you after the jump…

So, to win a copy of Tomas and all the assorted goody-baggery that goes along with it, just watch this video and answer a question on it…

QUESTION: Now that you’ve watched the Tomas video, how long do you expect to be suffering from nightmares?

To stand a chance of winning, email your answer to Hello[at]hecklerspray.com with the subject line ‘For the rest of my freaking life, thanks‘. The competition closes at midnight on July 20 when a winner will be chosen at random. UK readers only please.

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It is a sad time indeed to be a gamer, and one of the worst times for the affliction known as “always looking forward… itis… osis” whereby people insist on ignoring what’s about now and instead focus on what will be about in six months.

Of course, when the six months is up they just end up looking forward to the stuff coming in 2010, and so on and so forth.

The fools!

There are more than enough games around right now to get you through these painfully sunny days where you’re expected to actually move from your grotty little bedsit/parents basement.

Sod the sunshine/rain/overcast skies (delete as appropriate) - play inFamous, or Prototype, or revisit the Chronicles of Riddick and realise while it’s still great, it simply doesn’t have the spark it had on the original release.

Ignore the cries of happiness from the baying morons littering the bars around your homestead - they are lies. Instead, sit in your pants and shoot zombies with your equally-emaciated friends on Left 4 Dead. So they’re making a sequel too soon? So what - this one is out now, to play now - play it and shout at each other!

What we’re saying is - aside from the usual “avoid the outside as it’s full of tossers” thing - is that gamers as a whole need to learn to appreciate the here and now, and need to stop thinking that the best thing is just around the corner.

Titles never seem to get the appreciation they deserve on or soon after release. Instead they are hyped endlessly and looked forward to by thousands, only to be forgotten about until the inevitable retro feature a few years down the line which will ask “why didn’t we pay attention to it at the time?”

So live your life for the now, to the max - except not in that “to the max” way where you’re expected to jump off buildings into piles of flaming glass, or socialise or anything. No, we mean to the max in the sense of wearing the same pair of pants for four weeks as you attempt to finish Ikaruga on one life, and stop paying so much attention to what’s coming.

Though, to be honest, Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 does have night vision goggles with the special edition… and Borderlands is looking better by the day…

THIS WEEK: As well as remembering to put the ‘THIS WEEK’ bit in, we also realised that Tales of Monkey Island is pretty darn good, and that in future we should have some faith in Telltale’s ability to… tell… tales. Anyway, back to the monkeys.

Cars are people too, you know. Oh wait, no. No they’re not. Cars aren’t people. They’re cars. Even in Transformers cars aren’t people. They’re uncomfortably racist-seeming cars.

However! The Fiat 500 deserves to be treated like a human because it’s lovely and small and cute and everything. And what do you do to humans? You celebrate their birthdays. So here’s a video of some people singing Happy Birthday to a Fiat 500. You also have sex with humans. But you shouldn’t have sex with a Fiat 500. You definitely doing this.

Anyway, by posting this video we’re hoping that Fiat will send us a free car. Video’s after the jump…

As far as we can tell the only good thing to come out of Michael Jackson’s death is that he could now remake the zombie part of his Thriller video with a much smaller portion of budget allotted to the makeup department.

The choreography might be a touch less fluid, but still. In that context this whole unfortunate death thing is a Hollywood financier’s dream.

Joe Jackson, allegedly, thinks some other lemonade can be made from the whole mess. He’s trying hard to convince MJ’s three kids to take to the stage in a worldwide tour sort of way.

Right now Joe Jackson is probably somewhere in a mansion trying hard to convince his three most recent tenants that the only way to keep their father’s disaproving ghost at bay is to perform his hits on stage for money. If the kids take the bait they could end up making loads of money and launching themselves down the path of world wide fame and fortune.

What he’s likely failing to mention is that the same path apparently ends in an early grave with a neck full of mysterious needle marks and a body that does all its decomposing on the wrong side of death. And you know what? If we were him and we were trying to convince our grandkids to go on tour as the Jackson Three, we’d probably omit that stuff too.

You hadn’t heard about the Jackson three? Well it’s all right here in the Sun:

“Michael Jackson’s father, Joe Jackson, is lining up the King of Pop’s children for a world tour as The Jackson Three — despite family members accusing him of trying to “exploit them like Jacko.” Former Jackson Five manager Joe is said to have approached Prince Michael, 12, Paris, 11, and seven-year old Prince Michael II — known as Blanket — to hit the stage next year.”

Just think of all that money. And don’t worry about any undue hardships on the children. After all, they can attend a backstage school in between sets where they’ll get an education from a cheap teacher Joe found on Craigslist. Plus, the children’s life in the spotlight - well it’s what Michael would have wanted, apparently.

And as far as what you’ve heard about the senior Jackson managing a band made up entirely of child-relatives, well, where he’s from maybe whacking skin with worn belts is a sign of deep affection. In Gary, Indiana, we’ve often heard, they don’t hug they throttle. You’ll find that kind of affection nice once you’ve lived there for a while, we swear.

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Vanessa Hudgens is a whore. We’ve avoided saying that in the past for fear of legal action, but she is.

Vanessa Hudgens is a whore. Come on, say it with us. It’s fun - Vanessa Hudgens is a whore. Apparently we should point out that Vanessa Hudgens isn’t an actual whore, and that she’s only going to be playing one in a film - which sort of spoils the fun if you ask us - but, hey, at least this means you’ll finally get to see what Vanessa Hudgens looks like naked.

Pardon? You’ve already seen Vanessa Hudgens naked? Everyone has? OH FINE THEN.

The High School Musical movies were a phenomenon for one specific reason - they showed the youth of today that, with bit of application and the knowledge that your friends will always be there for you, anyone can achieve their dream of running around with their norks out in a low-rent film about hookers. Why, just look at dear old Vanessa Hudgens, for example.

Since High School Musical 3 wrapped, Vanessa Hudgens has been desperate to appeal to a more adult audience. And that seems to be exactly what she’ll do with her new movie Sucker Punch. Admittedly Vanessa Hudgens is trying to appeal to a very specific adult audience - the sort of adult audience that cuts holes in its trouser pockets so that it can masturbate discreetly at the cinema, the sort of adult audience that only became a removal man so that it could steal women’s underwear when nobody was looking - because she’ll be playing a naked prostitute. But a girl’s got to start somewhere. The LA Times reports:

“I’m playing a character named Blondie, and it’s set in a brothel in the 1950s, so there’s not a whole lot of clothes!… I think this is my time to really step it up and get to grow up.” She talks about her role as a sexy woman “strutting her stuff” … and she does things “I would never have imagined doing.”

News of Vanessa Hudgens disrobing for a film isn’t exactly shocking, given that she recently stated her intention to do just that. Plus don’t forget that Vanessa Hudgens is already a world leader in the art of getting naked for the cameras, so whether it’s a film camera or a mobile phone camera or a pinhole camera she made out of an old Pringles tube just so it allowed her to run around with her minge out for a while, it doesn’t really matter.

We will profess that we’re surprised how quickly Vanessa Hudgens has agreed to go naked for a movie, though - we always thought the formula went teen film, failed mainstream film, cancelled primetime TV show, cancelled daytime TV show, film nudity, outright pornography, drug addiction, clean-up period, born-again christian country and western album. And it’s a worry that Vanessa has already skipped so many of these stages - if she now bypasses porn and goes straight to the country album, there’ll be hell to pay. You hear us, Vanessa? Hell to pay.

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Thor is going to be a huge movie for Marvel - if all goes well, it’ll end up as its first humiliating flop.

Don’t take that for granted. If Thor is really going to be as headache-inducingly terrible as can be - if it truly has its eyes set on the highest peak of catastrophic awfulness known to man - then it must take down some A-list actors with it. So thank heavens that Natalie Portman has signed up for Thor.

But Natalie Portman has her work cut out. Can she make Thor as woeful as she made Mr Magorium’s Wonder Emporium? Doubtful.

Say what you like about Marvel, but it knows how to attract quality actors to its projects. Iron Man had Robert Downey Jr and Gwyneth Paltrow, The Incredible Hulk had Edward Norton and now Thor will star Natalie Portman. If we’ve done our sums correctly - and we’re pretty sure we have - then this means that in 2016 we’ll be finally treated to the She-Hulk adaptation starring 81-year-old Dame Judi Dench that we’ve all been looking forward to so feverishly.

But let’s get back to the case at hand. Natalie Portman has agreed to take a role in the upcoming Marvel movie Thor, to be directed by Kenneth Branagh. What does that mean? Well, at first glance Natalie Portman’s involvement would suggest that the movie will revolve around Thor falling in love with a quirky elfin hipster who is supposed to symbolise the idealistic freedom of youth but in reality will symbolise every person we’ve ever wanted to punch in the mouth. Also, Zach Braff will play Thor. Also, it’ll have a largely Iron & Wine soundtrack. Also, it’ll be terrible.

What? Almost every part of that last paragraph is a lie? Apparently so - in fact, Thor will be played by Chris Hemsworth and Natalie Portman will actually be playing Generic Superhero Love Interest: Medicine Edition. Reuters reports:

Portman will play Jane Foster, who in early comic-book lore was a nurse who became Thor’s first love… The story centers on Thor, a powerful but arrogant warrior whose reckless actions reignite an ancient war. As punishment, Thor is cast down to Earth and forced to live among humans. But once here, he learns what it takes to be a true hero when the most dangerous villain of his world sends the darkest forces of Asgard to invade Earth.

So let’s get this straight - the film will take Thor from his usual home and ask him to battle an old adversary in the unfamiliar setting of a big American city? We can’t work out if that makes it sound more like Super Mario Bros or Masters Of The Universe. Oh, who cares - they were both gigantic box office smashes, weren’t they?

Weren’t they? Hello? Anyone?

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Hang around here long enough and you’ll soon come to realise that we ruddy well love our launch games. Pirate Launch is no different.

Pirate Launch is a blinding variation on a game you’re probably all sick to death of by now - you fire something out of a cannon to see how far you get. This time it’s a pirate ship that you have to keep upright in the face of sharks, seagulls, waves and surprisingly bouncy whales. We’ve played Pirate Launch for what seems like hours now, so be warned - it’s a sticky one.

Play Pirate Launch now

Every week our inbox is crammed full of press releases. We’re sent anywhere between 100 and 200 on an average day.

We also receive emails from readers, from the bizarre to the outstanding, and as such have decided to start and irregular and possible weekly feature whereby we reveal YOUR letters to our 750,000+ unique monthly users.

So here’s the first one. We’re thinking that this might be for real, or it might be a television show, or it might be a joke, or worse. But if you fit the category of ‘single male geek’ and want to help a reader out in London then do read on…

Pale and pasty geek wanted for casual sex…

I suffer from the compulsive urge to reject suggestive nomenclature – Fitness First? First? Perhaps fitness is a distant third, but definitely not first. I mean sex also burns calories, and quite frankly, I find cross trainers terrifying. Not like ‘your local Catholic priest turning up at your nephew’s first birthday party’ terrifying but still mildly terrifying, like a sandwich from Prets. So to remain vaguely fit I have a choice to make; join a Fitness First filled with terrifying trainers or find a steady lay. Sex FTW.

I could get a boyfriend or Swedish designed vibrator, or get a Swedish boyfriend to buy me a designer vibrator, but again I see a world of problems. Option A leaves you with ‘love’ and that whole issue of soul completing passion that sees you at home together every night, and option B means meeting Swedish parents who try feed you Lutefiske. Neither is appealing, so I choose C – a dependable toyboy to burn calories.

So that’s what I’m looking for; a regular, no strings attached, Boy Toy to double as a treadmill without the Lonely, Dear soundtrack.

You don’t need to be much really – in fact I’d prefer if you weren’t. Just alive, male and able to come around three or four nights a week. And then go home. Always with the going home. And no, I don’t want to come to your crappy flat at Dalston Junction and meet your friends; cross trainers are not that scary.

I’m 28 and relatively hard to get along with. I have one of those preachy moral high ground jobs that generally means most people hate me – but I’m OK with that, I get paid more than you anyhow. I’m not in need of assurance, will leave the lights on (provided you’re waxed) and consider vanilla sex a complete waste of time. I’m good looking, not like model good looking otherwise I’d be a modelling in Milan (der), but have always found that my breasts and cheek bones will get me any thing I want. (Read: I’m infinitely hotter than anything you could normally get your hands on, sir.)

I’d prefer if you are some sort of geek type (someone needs to work out why this shitty MacBook runs so slowly), and aren’t fat. I mean sure ‘programmers podge’ is fine, but that full ‘one ring of lard for every harmony in a Stereolab song’ is a little freaky to be honest.  And hipsters, that’s the other one. If you’re wearing flat soled canvas shoes and listening to Little Boots, I will strangle you.

Oh, and I’m not into training. I trained stock horses half my life (for money, you see), so will not sleep with men younger than me for a hobby of sorts.

Email me -notreece@googlemail.com

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If you like women with an uncomfortable obsession with their own body image, or sport or whatever, look away now.

Because Jessica Simpson and Tony Romo - the leading proponents of those two things - have split up. But wait, it gets worse - according to reports, Tony Romo dumped Jessica Simpson the day before her 29th birthday. That doesn’t seem like a particularly nice thing to do, does it?

But wait, it gets even worse - Jessica Simpson never even got the opportunity to shill out her relationship with Tony Romo in a badly-made, ethically-questionable MTV reality show. That’s the real tragedy here.

Between the age of 29 and 30, a woman tends to go on one of the most magical journeys of her entire life. Sure, on her 29th birthday she might be the same girlish optimist you met and fell in love with, but over the next 365 days she’ll incrementally transform into a beautiful womanly butterfly. A butterfly who spends four hours every morning pulling at her face in the bathroom mirror like it’s a lump of foccacia dough while complaining about how old she’s suddenly got, sure, but a butterfly nonetheless.

And Tony Romo, we’re sad to say, isn’t going to see Jessica Simpson go through any of that.

This is because on the eve of her 29th birthday, Tony Romo decided to dump Jessica Simpson. We don’t know why this is - although possible reasons include the fact that Tony Romo could often be seen partying without Jessica Simpson and the fact that the most profound conversation that either of them ever had with each other was a 12-second monosyllabic exchange about a potato - so let’s allow the New York Daily News to fill things in for us:

“She is heartbroken,” says a source. “She loves Tony. But it’s been difficult lately. He’s busy with his career and she’s getting ready to shoot her show (The Price of Beauty). They decided to part ways.” … Although a suddenly single Simpson may be heartbroken, the singer is staying positive. “Everyone needs to know that hope floats … grab the strings and pull it back to you,” she tweeted.

We hate to pull you up here in this time of sadness, Jessica, but hope doesn’t actually float. Hope is an abstract emotional concept. We think you’ve got ‘hope’ mixed up with ‘poo’. Yes. Yes, you’ve definitely got ‘hope’ mixed up with ‘poo’.

Anyway, we wouldn’t recommend that any of you lose sleep about the Jessica Simpson/ Tony Romo split - they’ve parted ways before, remember, just before Ashlee Simpson got married to Pete Wentz, and ended up back in each other’s arms. Maybe all they need to push them together again is for someone else to give their baby a tragically awful name, because that seems to work.

So that’s why, if you’re expecting to give birth within the next week or so, please call your child something that’ll get them beaten up for the rest of their lives. Something like Gustav Vagina-Mouth. or Archibald Shitwhistle. Or Cunnilingus McHerpes. Please. Jessica Simpson and Tony Romo need you more than ever.

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