Stop right now, thank you very much

George Santayana famously said "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it." As a philosopher and poet, he was most likely speaking about war or the subjugation of human rights. But his powerful words are just as prescient when applied to the horrifying threat of another imminent Spice Girls reunion.

If you're feeling a sense of deja vu, in addition to creeping pernicious dread, it's probably because we've been here before. Only two years ago (although it feels like much, much longer) the rowdy fivesome congregated at the 02 arena to bellow their plans to reconquer the world all over again, having buried the hatchet once and for all.

They maintained that any animosity was just water under the bridge, and they were as tight as they'd been when they first started out, looking like a bunch of badly-styled ASBO-dodgers on their way to a hen night in Chigwell.

Proving that people are willing to buy the same old shit if it comes in nicer packaging, one million people tried to get hold of tickets for the official comeback concert, which sold out in 38 seconds. Having successfully thrown the chum into the waters and inspired a feeding frenzy, the cartoonish coven released tickets for an entire world tour and announced their plans for a big comeback single.

Unfortunately, the single was a bit of a flop, with record shops lumbered with crates of unsold copies of 'Headlines'. Likewise, backstage backstabbing led to the 'girls' (a term currently being investigated under the trades descriptions act) taking an early bath.

Officially, they claimed that family commitments were the reason for them cancelling dates in Australia, China, South Africa and Argentina, but the press reported that relations between the quarrelsome quintet were about as cordial as the Sugababes Christmas party. Gigs were scrapped, tickets refunded and fans royally pissed off. By this point, the entire world was hoping that the girls would limp off into the sunset like a mortally wounded animal in cheap leopard-print.

So it's with a palpable sense of dread that we now find ourselves contemplating the possibility of a second Spice Girls reunion. The reason for such a counter-intuitive occurrence is unclear, except to say that all five must be pretty bored now.

Victoria Beckham occasionally oils herself up to pose for Armani, Mel B has been living in a council house with a camera crew, and Geri Halliwell must have realised that Ugenia Lavender books only take up half an hour of your time, especially when you have a willing ghost-writer at your beck and call.

With Girls Aloud, The Saturdays and Girls Can't Catch currently restoring some essential credibility to the much maligned girl-group genre, maybe it's appropriate for the the grand-dames of girl-pop to give it one last go and remind them all how it's done. Because let's face it, if you're going to bicker, bitch and claw each other's eyes out, you want to be sure you're doing it like a pro.

From the headlines to the breadlines

Everyone loves a rags to riches story. You know the drill - poor boy makes good, girl from the wrong side of the tracks lands preppy boyfriend. There's a whole Hollywood sub-genre dedicated to these kinds of stories. But let's be honest - we also love those spectacular falls from grace. Because we love to wonder, how do you return to the way things were once you've had a taste of the good life?

Mel B, who after a recent exercise regime seems to have morphed into Wesley Snipes in a bad weave, is currently revisiting her roots in Leeds, where she's living in a rundown terraced house. But don't worry about Scary, this isn't a result of the Spice Girls' catastrophic comeback cock-up, it's for a new reality show called 7 Days On The Breadline.

Dressed in a shabby green tracksuit with a face like thunder (so no change there), Mel has kept herself busy by visiting the laundromat and picking up benefits from the post office. Other 'celebrities' lined up to appear in the series include Trinny Woodall and Keith Allen - as if their poverty stricken neighbours haven't suffered enough already.

Sadly, not all celebrities get to finish their stint in the poorhouse then head back to their en-suites and private pools. For a select few, those miserable queues outside the Job Centre are drawing inexorably closer. And given her current state of affairs, Kerry Katona will be joining them before too long.

The latest from the world's most dysfunctional non-cartoon family is that Kerry's financial stability is hanging by a Turkey Twizzler. Of course, it doesn't help that her malignant growth of a husband has been steadily syphoning off the cash to buy flash cars and set up a string of dodgy sounding businesses. More disturbingly, Kerry now believes that Mark was even responsible for the cocaine sting that saw her ravenous drug consumption exposed on the front pages of all the tabloids.

Obviously, this level of distrust in a marriage is unhealthy, but Kerry continues to avoid relationship advice as if it was a plate of fresh vegetables. With the bailiffs now hovering, reports have alleged that Kerry has since shut herself in the attic like a latter-day Mrs Rochester.

But fear not, because hubby Mark has a plan to solve all of Kerry's financial woes. He's heard about how much money was coined in by videos of Paris Hilton and Abi Titmuss in a state of 'congress' and figures that there's a cool half-million to be made. The only flaw in his plan is that the release of Mark and Kerry sex-tape would trigger a nationwide epidemic of instantaneous blindness worthy of a Triffid invasion.

Now, is anyone else suddenly considering a whip-round to help Kerry get back on her feet?