The world's biggest intervention

He may have starred in three of America's most popular shows, but David Hasselhoff still has his fair share of demons. After almost three decades of stardom he's amassed several generations of fans, and now his ex-wife is calling on them to help instigate a public intervention.

In the eighties he boasted a nice line in snug jeans and a pithily sarcastic Trans-Am. In the nineties he traded in the gay car for a bevy of ex-Playboy bunnies and spent his summers running up and down Malibu Pier in an equally snug pair of red shorts. Now, in the noughties, he sits on the judging panel of America's Got Talent, where the outfits may be roomier (at last) but his sidekicks shift a lot fewer calendars. Half-naked Piers Morgan anyone? Didn't think so.

Although AGT regularly wins the ratings war, David's own battle with the bottle is proving a lot less successful. His drinking problem first became public news when he got kicked out of Wimbledon in the summer of 2006 for being drunk and abusive, weeks later he was thrown off a British Airways flight. Of course, the papers lapped it up because nothing sells quite like a celebrity in full-blown meltdown.

Things took a more serious turn last week when the 57-year old was hospitalised after getting hammered at home. A disturbing recording was even released of his daughter Hayley's panicked 911 call to the emergency services - almost as disturbing as the recordings that Hasselhoff has released over the years.

Following the lead set by Candy Spelling, David's gracefully aging ex-wife Pamela Bach has done what any concerned family member would do - she's gone public: "The despair—feeling hopeless and unable to believe that things can ever change with David's alcoholism over the years—has affected our whole family. We want our lives to be different, but nothing we have done has brought about change."

Most interventions involve a handful of aggrieved relatives and some bitter recriminations, whereas this is an international call for "David's fans, supporters and handlers" to "save this wonderful man's life". I suppose it's nice that Pamela's been able to move past the ugliness of their divorce, when she accused him of breaking her nose (although the photos suggest it was more of a surgical procedure) and calling her a "bitch", "whore" and a "slut".

If David does decide to get some much-needed help, at least he can be sure that he can afford the treatment. His latest innovative moneymaking venture is a personalised greeting card service. For just $15 you could order an exclusive Hasselhoff Christmas card featuring a shirtless Hoff posing in an open Santa coat and holding a surf-board. As if the picture wasn't enough of an incentive, David promises fans "You choose the name and write the message (nothing too naughty!) and it will appear in an exact replica of my handwriting..." It's enough to make anyone hit the bottle.

Pammy's platinum pool problems

After death and divorce, moving house is the third most stressful life event. And no-one knows this better than home movie enthusiast and celebrity hepatitis sufferer Pamela Anderson.

Having spent her entire adult life transforming herself into a living Barbie doll, she's now on the home strait and has been busy building her very own dream beach-house in Malibu. Except that it's not exactly going to plan.

She originally bought the property for £850,000, but has since poured millions into it, ultimately running $3 million over budget. Maybe on reflection, tiling the entire swimming pool in platinum was an unnecessary indulgence.

It seems that Pammy's assets may be considerable, but they're not limitless. So with money running out and the pressure building, the silicon stunner has had to go to extreme measures to keep her head (and other bits) above water.

She recently revealed that she's had to move into a trailer park with her boyfriend Jamie Padgett and sons Brandon and Dylan. Although, with two kids, a new boyfriend, a pick-up truck full of g-strings and hair so straw-like she could wear it in bales, she shouldn't have too much trouble fitting in.

But as well as finding an appropriately familiar living space, she's also managed to pick a nice little earner that's not a million miles from what she knows best. The industrious icon has signed up to appear as the Genie in Aladdin at the New Wimbledon Theatre.

Since her role was announced, ticket sales have rocketed by 800%, presumably thanks to dads across south London suddenly expressing an interest in the cultural heritage of pantomime.

It might initially seem like a rather left-field choice for the life-saving lovely, but actually, it makes a lot of sense. Think about it - tight costumes, duff dialogue, preposterous scenarious, heaps of innuendo and plenty of audience interaction. If that doesn't sound like Baywatch, I don't know what does.

Paramount makes a splash

Well, it seems like the folks in Hollywood have managed to successfully scratch their way through the barrel's base, and are now tunneling towards the earth's core.

Turning beloved TV shows into disposable, memory-violating monstrosities has long been a viable course of action for any studio bereft of ideas. But now it seems they've run out of worthy properties and have turned their attention to any old garbage with name recognition. This summer, Will Ferrell came a cropper with a big budget adaptation of Land of the Lost, a show remembered only by stoners (and let's face it, how good can their memory really be?). Now, possibly the worst show ever broadcast is being mooted for the 'reimagining' treatment. That's right, Baywatch is heading for a big screen near you.

As well as running for an astonishing 12 years and spawning an equally awful spin-off (Baywatch Nights), the show achieved its place in pop culture legend as the most watched TV show in the world. At its peak in 1996, it was being watched by more than 1.1 billion people in 148 countries, most of them with the curtains drawn I imagine.

Unashamedly milking (steady now) its premise for all it was worth, Baywatch used slow-motion to such an extent that an entire season played at regular speed would probably only run for about an hour and a half. And yet viewers tuned in religiously every week to see their favourite characters, the hot one, the short-haired one, the brunette one and the black one run up and down the beaches of Malibu carrying a giant plastic lozenge.

The show's creative team, a genuine case of the infinite monkey theorem if ever there was one, occasionally attempted to add plots to its already overflowing D-cup. We had smugglers, street gangs, pollution and even skin cancer, and yet all anyone really remembers is the two manadatory musical montages that cropped up in every one of the 241 broadcast episodes. Well, that and the awesome 'Current of Love', by Germany's favourite soft-rocker David Hasselhoff, which became the show's iconic theme song.

The writer selected for the project is Jeremy Garelick, who scripted Jennifer Aniston's The Break Up, and its said that he plans to turn it into a comedy. Unfortunately, he also claims never to have seen the show, which explains why he mistakenly believes that his approach will be a welcome change.

Because Baywatch was always fully aware of how ridiculous it was. After a po-faced first season which almost got it cancelled, the budgets were slashed, the proper actors were sacked, and a bunch of comically inflated playmates were cast in their place. Selected for their ability to fill a red swimsuit and read off cue-cards, they weren't expected to act or emote, just stand, run and swim. In that order. And the viewers lapped it up, laughing along with the show's preposterous attempts at drama.

This could all end up like Scary Movie - an embarassing spoof of something that was a tongue-in-cheek joke in the first place. But as long as the actresses are cast for their ability to inhabit a swimsuit rather than a character, I'm sure it'll be a resounding success. As for the T.J. Hooker movie, don't get me started...