JUDGE BRITNEY

Remember-- judge not, lest ye be judged. Next time you come back from a hot date with Madonna and try to catch a few snoozes with a plague of photogs running straight at your car, let's see how you look. That's right, like hell. I see you there, picking your nose at your computer.

Yeah, that's right, we're everywhere, we're peepin' at YOU. Just be glad I'm not taking a photo. (Who would care? The person who uses the Xerox after you, that's who. Set the Hygiene Police on your ass. You'll get strapped buck-naked to a table and scrubbed down with Purell, like Meryl Streep in "Silkwood." Ooh, I'm getting a Silkwoody just thinking about it.)

Anyway, bitch can't help when her eyes involuntarily roll back in her head while some asshole with a lens captures the Kodak moment-- but bitch can pay attention to what she wears. What the hell is that? Grandma's housecoat with a doily stitched to her noobs? Was Madonna trying to practice tongue-to-tongue for the upcoming tour, so Brit snuck out disguised as the maid?

Photo courtesy Splash