Other Ways to Needlessly Injure Hugh Jackman - A Helpful Guide

In his recent and well-publicised appearance on the televised wildlife documentary show Oprah, Australian film and stage actor Hugh Jackman injured himself in a stunt gone wrong.

Best known for his role as Flying Fox in the hit film X-Men Origins: Zipline, Jackman was trying to exploit his zipline related fame by riding from the roof of the Sydney Opera House down to a stage filled with former celebrities.

In an unforseen turn of events, the acceleration caused him to hit the end of the line with such speed that his enormous head interacted violently with the stage, causing $2.1 million dollars of property damage. The resultant injury stopped the planned act of Jackman, Bono, Bon Jovi and Russell Crowe from combining into the Voltron of middle-aged housewife fantasies.

Immediately, the internet filled with speculation as to why Jackman had not just used the stairs. Had Oprah not invited him, and he was using special forces tactics to gain entry to her show? Does he suffer from a quadricep injury that prohibits him from tackling steps or inclined planes? If neither of the above answers are true, it's likely that the entire debacle was a cheap stunt designed specifically to injure Jackman. With that in mind, may I present a list of alternatives, for the next time somebody wants to maim Hugh Jackman.

Ask Hugh Jackman to appear in your advertisement for flavoured iced tea. Tell Hugh Jackman that the filming will involve a choreographed dance around a hotel lobby; ask him to bring his finest tap dancing shoes. When Hugh Jackman is not looking, coat the floor in a thick film of peanut oil and film him slipping over as he tries to execute the complex dance motions. Film fifteen minutes of this and sell it to media outlets as Hugh Jackman On Iced Tea (a.k.a. crystal meth).

When Hugh Jackman is in your green room, preparing for your show by demanding a bowl of blue M&Ms, a copy of Who Magazine, and a bag of hamsters, sneak up behind Hugh Jackman and hit him in the head with a cricket bat.

As you announce Hugh Jackman's name, and he enters the stage for his interview, arrange for a live cow to be dropped on Hugh Jackman.

Hugh Jackman is promoting his latest musical, Fruity Dancer: The Cereal Mascot Story. He is scheduled to appear at quarter-time during the Super Bowl. As he takes to the centre of the field, have all 32 NFL quarterbacks step out of the shadows holding footballs. They cock their arms, preparing to release a flurry of pigskin directly at Hugh Jackman. As he cowers in fear, have them drop the balls harmlessly to the ground. As a consummate professional, Hugh Jackman will laugh it off and continue his act; this is when you hit him with the wrecking ball.

Hugh Jackman wants to gain 12kgs of muscle for his next Wolverine movie. Replace his protein powder with laxatives. After six weeks, when he is unable to maintain any weight and is a sleepless, sickly, frail husk of a man, ask his wife, Deborah Lee Furness, out to dinner to 'get her away from all that'. Share intimate moments and lingering looks over dinner, and when kissing her cheek goodnight, kiss her for just that moment too long.

Continue to see Deborah for months afterwards, growing ever closer, until one day, when Hugh Jackman is away filming a movie, she invites you home for a night of passionate, clandestine lovemaking.

In the morning, as you smile at Deborah while you button up your shirt, excuse yourself to the bathroom, where you shit on Hugh Jackman's toothbrush.

4 reasons why Megan Gale should date me

The newspaper has held little interest to me in recent days, concerning itself almost solely with the critical coverage of Oprah's trip to Australia to find a suitable candidate for her genetic experiments to cure chronic equine halitosis.

(N.B. I don't actually know what Oprah does.)

However, buried deep within the mass of hysterical celebrity worship came the revelation that radio star Andy Lee has split from longtime girlfriend, supermodel Megan Gale.

Having waited four years for this to happen, I have wasted no time in calling the offices of her management company several dozen times to ask her out on a date. However, the receptionist has advised me each time that Ms Gale is unavailable, due to "stop calling this number or I'll notify the police."

This photo will be fantastic decoration at my 170th birthday party.

Until she returns from said pressing engagement, I've devoted my time to preparing a list of reasons as to why Ms Gale should consider me for her next romantic dalliance.

Please note: This list is for entertainment/seduction purposes only, not to be used as evidence in court.

4. Megan, as you approach 40, the media will begin to question how well your looks are holding up. They've done so in the past, making snide, cruel remarks about other beautiful women; the Sydney Morning Herald once referred to Elle Macpherson as 'the shadow of a once beautiful woman', while Women's Weekly magazine made the observation that 'Jane Fonda looks like a nightmare sculpted from cat arseholes'.

Do you know who will never question your looks in newspapers or magazines? Me.

Also, whilst not ugly enough to be consistently mistaken for a houseplant, I am plain enough to make you look even more stunning by comparison. Let's refer to this the 'Andy Lee Effect'.

3. In an interview with Fairfax, you said that it was 'effortless' for you to be with Andy. Keeping this in mind, I promise to put no effort at all into our relationship.


2. Since I don't have a wise-cracking co-host to constantly remind the audience that I'm dating you, I promise to remind everyone personally. This will involve: daily Facebook status updates (Estoban Diecesiete is bangin' Megan Gale. Eat shit everybody else!), forcing random people on the street to high five me, entering the newsagency and autographing every copy of any magazine which features your photo, and boneheading all your photoshoots.


1. And, finally, a word of caution: get back to me soon, Megan, because I just heard that Scarlett Johansson is back on the market too. This stallion can't run free forever. Call me!

Charlie Sheen's Rehab Diaries

Actor Charlie Sheen, 45, known for his roles in the acclaimed films Wall Street and Platoon, was arrested in October after an incident involving a porn star, damage to a hotel room, and an amount of cocaine presumably equal to or greater than his body weight.
Inexplicably, Sheen was released into the public after an observation period at the hospital, rather than doing hard time. Although he has prior offences on his records - including drug charges, assault convictions and Two And A Half Men - the judge saw fit to allow him to once again walk the streets.

This result can mean one of two things: we must seriously entertain the fact that Sheens is an elite special agent of the U.S. Government - employed to single handedly win the war on drugs by consuming the world's supply of narcotics himself, kind of like Jason Bourne crossed with a giant angry vacuum cleaner.
Or, alternatively, the judge was so swayed by Sheens' attitude, displayed in his own 'preventative' trip to rehab in February, that he deemed the gifted thespian to be on the right path to a clean, law-abiding lifestyle, and that the $7000 of hotel damage and terrified porn star were just like an occasional donut to somebody on a diet.
After an incident involving a petting zoo, a group of schoolchildren on excursion, and several bottles of tequila, I found myself court-ordered into the same rehab facility as Charlie, albeit a few days after he checked out. Moving into his old room, I found that he had left a small journal behind, chronicling his days in the facility. Below are some choice excerpts.

Day 1

I watched the entire first season of Oz in preparation for this place. One of the characters talks about asserting yourself so that nobody tries to make you their bitch, and today I sought out the biggest, meanest-looking inmate in the cafeteria and stabbed him in the kidney with a sharpened toothbrush.
So the afternoon was spent in the warden's office, where she explained to me that I'm not in a prison, I'm in a clinic, and that she's not a warden, but an administrator. This cleared up why the biggest, meanest guy in the joint was actually a nerdy-looking guy built like a bunch of mop handles taped together.
She also confiscated my tooth-sword. More than anything, it seemed to confuse her that I would make a weapon out of something like a toothbrush, when the cafeteria I was in was filled with metal knives, but whatever. Fuck that bitch; she wouldn't last two minutes in my world.

Day 2

I was walking past the front door when I ran into Wesley Snipes. He said he was trying to check in to get time taken off his prison sentence, but apparently Tax Evasion isn't something they can rehabilitate here. I laughed at him for a good five minutes before I forgot what I was laughing about. I did remember what it was later, and phoned him up to laugh at him some more, but I forgot who he was, so I just phoned Denise Richards and breathed really heavily down the line. The best part is that I called from one of the rehab phones, so her caller ID won't know shit.

Day 5

We had group therapy today, where we had to sit in a circle and take turns introducing ourselves to the rest of the group. These people seem awesome. From what they've said, they all love to party.
When it was my turn to introduce myself, I realised that I don't know what it is I checked in here for. Either sex, drugs, or drinking; but it can't be all three, can it? I had to fake my lines the whole time. "Hi, I'm Charlie, and I'm a *cough*aholic. It's been *cough* days since my last *cough*, and I feel *cough*.

Day 7

Group therapy again today. As a world-renowned comedic actor I felt it was my duty to bring some humour into proceedings. Here are some of the jokes I've made:

Guy talking: "I think the low point for me was when I'd come home at night so strung out that my wife would lock herself in the children's bedroom with them until I'd pass out on the sofa."
Me: "Sofa? But I barely know her!"

Girl talking: "Sometimes, I'd be so desperate for a fix that I'd go out to clubs and give guys head in the bathroom just for money to buy junk."
Me: "Sounds like you were getting enough 'junk' as it was! Get it? As in boners?"

Day 9

This place is shit. These people are all talk. They say about how they drink, like, four bottles of Jack Daniels a night, but I show up in their rooms with just two bottles and they freak the fuck out. Pussies.

Day 13

One of the cleaners found the homemade still in my room. I was fermenting apples I'd stolen from the lunch room into cider, with a bit of methylated spirits mixed in to speed the process along. The setup was made from a few bowls, a length of garden hose and one of my socks. The warden told me that if I want to drink this badly, why not just check out of the place and do it? Why was I even here? That really stumped me. Why did I come to this place? Because of the tax evasion? Whatever. I'm here now, and I'm in it for the long haul. Charlie Sheen ain't no quitter.

Day 14

My agent just called. I'm getting paid $1.88 million for every episode I do of Two And A Half Men. Filming starts as soon as I leave this place. So I decided to check out today. I'm very confident that all my demons are behind me now. The old Charlie is no more.