A story of hubris and dejection this morning, from dear old Ben Widdicombe: "Which mournful solo artist is obsessed with his own level of fame? After convincing himself on a recent flight to Australia that he would be mobbed in the streets, the scrawny singer was nonplussed that most Aussies didn't recognize him." [Gatecrasher] Excerpts from another item, one of Ted Casablanca's complex mystery narratives, lie after the jump.

"Vicky Vamp Void recently had some work done to her famed bod, though we think her old mug is just as shrugworthy as her new one. The unnecessary surgery seemed completely cosmetic, but ya never know—cocaine does do some pretty rancid damage to the ol' septum, boys 'n' girls. Stick to Diet Rockstar, kiddos, 'kay? ... Recently, VVV's been seen around just about every hip hang with her intriguing, sexually mysterious partner in crime, Humpy Harlow. The tingling twosome are more than happy to parade in front of the paps, soaring as high as weather balloons." [Awful Truth]