Move over Britney, there’s a new screw-up on the block.

Well, not yet but give it six months and you’ll no doubt see grainy photographs of Miley Cyrus being peeled off  a nightclub floor by parasites who are concerned only about the stability of their lucrative income stream.

A week or two after that expect an obligatory image of the humble star on every tabloid in the world, emerging from an LA rehab centre sporting a new hairdo and an extra large serving of denial.

It’s already started, so don’t be impatient.

The ‘saucy’ photos of Miley that have caused such a stir in the knitting groups of America this week have set the young starlet on a path that begins with a little philosophizing and end in a full blown  episode of self depreciation, steeped in a world of heroin and suicidal regret.

The media can’t wait.
 
Bogged down with stories covering such mundane subjects as genocide in Darfur, the world’s paparazzi lets out a collective sigh of relief whenever the words ‘melt-down’ and ‘celebrity’ get used in the same sentence.

It’s like Christmas for gossip columnists, only with more cheer and alcohol.

And all those other plain teens who cry “why not me” into the mirror at night are just hanging for the opportunity to bring down Disney’s new ‘car-crash-to-be’ via posts on every forum thread from here to Karachi.

“I always said she’s a bitch” they’ll write, only it will say “bich” because kids can’t spell.

“I hayt her” will be the response.

“Moll-ey Cyrus more like” someone will add, feeling quite clever.

And then “Achy breaky whore!” which articulates the sentiment rather nicely.

So good luck Miley. I know being 15 and the subject of a photograph that reveals you have skin is highly provocative, but hang in there, it will soon be over.

Because by the time your audience of judgmental hypocrites uncovers the track marks on your arm and the porno flick you’re yet to make, they’ll forget all about the sexy photos of you and your dad.