I dislike children at the best of times, but that irritation is made ten times worse when they’re the offspring of celebrities.  You can’t open an issue of Chat a Celebrity OK Break these days without learning about the new orphan Madonna has kidnapped, what substance one of Bob Geldof’s spawn has injected into their colon or reading about Gwyneth Paltrow’s plans to raise Coldplay’s kids on a diet of woodchips and bees.

Celebrities only reproduce for one reason: they’re not able to be famous enough with just one body, so they want to create little versions of themselves to grab extra tabloid inches and dress up at award ceremonies.  Why not just cut out the inconvenient period of incubation and allow them to create adorable, pint-sized clones like my personal hero Dr Evil and his cute little Mini-Me?  This would save on resources and provide an invaluable back-up celebrity when the real one is in rehab or prison.
Ricky Gervais: Busy Ricky has a bulging diary stuffed with sitcoms to write, American award shows to present and minorities to make fun of.  Perhaps he could take some of the load off with his own mini-Ricky, who could be employed to do the David Brent dance and look confused when he gets booed at the Oscars.  Mini-Ricky would also allow big Ricky to pretend that recent dwarf-centric ratings disaster Life’s Too Short was ironically pants, rather than just pants.
Lady Gaga:  Much as she might try, Lady Gaga can’t be everywhere at once, because somebody has to put in the hours ripping off 80s Madonna and thinking up meat dresses and muppet frogskin outfits.  Why not double the wackiness with Little Lady Gaga, grown from one of Madonna’s toenails and primed to be controversial and edgy 24/7?  Best of all, the question “how many Kermits had to die for you to look fly?” will be answered by “around three”.
The entire cast of Jersey Shore: MTV could be onto a winner if it could only create a band of microscopic copies of the cast of its vomit-covered reality TV cringeathon.  They’d be freakish, orange, tiny and drunk, so you’re basically talking about oompa-loompas on alcopops, and the scientists could save money by putting them alongside the regular-sized Snooki.  I hope STD treatment will still work on a two foot Pauly D.
Simon Cowell: He’s the man Britain loves to hate, even as we’re lining his pockets with our money.  Shame that he’s too busy to present garish Saturday telly on both sides of the Atlantic at once. The answer is Little Cowell, a smarmy goblin with high-waisted trousers and an ear for the jingling of cash.  As a nation, we must resist the temptation to stuff him in a wheelie bin.
Alex Reid: It’s a heavy responsibility for one man – swearing, fighting and getting bimbos pregnant. What big Alex needs to fill his busy media diary is three feet of hardened, cage-fighting midget with a fetish for cross-dressing and giant fake boobs.  Maybe we could actually build him out of discarded silicone implants. Euch, I just threw up a little in my mouth.
Prince Harry: If you’ve been watching Game Of Thrones, you too may have come to the conclusion that we should just replace our entire royal family with dwarves: boss midget Tyrion Lannister is better than Prince Charles any day of the week.  Let’s start the ball rolling with a 24 inch Prince Harry, a tiny ginger tearaway who could represent the UK internationally whilst still being small enough to hide in a gym locker if he got carried away and dressed up as a little Midge-Hitler after a few too many beers.