The alleged "Bieber Fever" has reached the inevitable level of abuse. You know, when fanatics are that desperate for attention from the object of their desire that they'll lop a bottle at their head. It's because of these people we're not allowed have bottle tops at gigs anymore. Next thing you know, the only drinking vessel permitted will be a biodegradable recycled cup the size of a thimble.

Apologies - you're desperate to find out if the Bieber survived the ordeal. He did. For those of you unable to watch the video in work, he's striding across the stage, squeeking "I just wanted to see everybody cause I love you guys, bu... *cue lopped bottle*... OW! That didn't feel good. I don't know why she threw that at me..."

Really? I do. I bet this was the first time she'd ever heard your voice. It was the first time I'd ever heard your voice, so the bottle was a welcomed break to be honest ( does not condone attacks on over-hyped teen stars). The sound of it didn't come as a surprise as such, he is after all a little boy with a dodgy haircut (I recall being very surprised at finally - after being visually accosted by countless pictures - hearing Miley Cyrus speak. One would expect something akin to Britney Spears on helium, instead I got middle-aged Vegas showgirl by the name of Crystal) but it's level of grating did. Then again, I'm in possession of a raging hangover today...

It's a level 7 (brink of nausea, mild hallucinations, mouth like a badger's armpit). It's the result of a leisurely meal with the fellah's parents who are up from Cork. Indeed, I had the pleasure of dining with "Lenny's mum", the rebel county's finest wrapping granny. And, boy, did we put it away. Several large glasses later, I found myself in a state of undress, staring cock-eyed at Tonight With Vincent Browne, wondering who in the name of jaysis I was looking at.

As it turns out, Vincent's on holidays, so TV3 have employed an array of guest hosts. Last night, it was the turn Ger Colleran, the editor of The Star. Naturally enough, he wanted to talk about "the world of celebrity" - so he had on possibly the largest panel ever, including Terry Prone (who was missing the mild flirtation she enjoys with the show's usual host); Michael Doherty of VIP and 'I Want To Be a Presenter' fame; TV3's Glenda Gilson, who was "just off the plane from London," and looked it, God love her, she was probably hijacked at the airport; an overly vocal features editor from The Star (lay off the caffine, Moira); and a leaking droid in the likeness of Louis Walsh.

He has a serious case of the Benjamin Button's going on. The man's poking his nose into his sixties and he looks about 45. The only thing letting him down is the aforementioned leaking; whatever he's presumably injecting into himself is seeping out his scalp, thus turning his hair a curious case of green under studio lights. If you're excessively bored, check it out online. It makes for morbidly fascinating viewing - especially if you fancy roaring at your monitor for 45 minutes. Just me? Again.

I'm off to Buger King.