Loyal-yet-insistent English terrier mix James Blunt regrets that he's known for just one thing: Leaving "You're Beautiful" all over the carpet back in 2005 and rolling in it until it took years to get the smell out. Blunt told Hello! this week that he's very sorry and he hopes you can forgive him.

The music world was thrown into upheaval yesterday at news that singer-songwriter-British-Army-captain James Blunt had quit the business and would no longer be performing that one song of his that was everywhere a few years ago.

James Blunt has the self-deprecating humor shtick down. Apparently, the crooner has a penchant for spreading lies about himself. In this brief clip alone, he says he's gay, a drug addict, and that his new album is Justin Bieber's favorite.

British crooner James Blunt has told the BBC that while serving as an officer in the army in Kosovo, he disobeyed an order to attack Russian troops. James Blunt is a war hero! He also has a new album out.

Start the gossip trains, because blank-looking Rachel Bilson, who's engaged to Hayden Christensen, just tweeted "James Blunt — Goodbye, My Lover," which is one of those horribly sad breakup songs. Is their attractive love dead? We want answers! Update...

How's this for an unlikely couple? Former CSI star-turned-drug-runner Gary Dourdan and the singer responsible for the most annoying song of the decade, James Blunt, have apparently pooled together whatever cash they have left in their respective bank accounts and gone on holiday together. While on an Ibizan vacation of sin, the heroin/ecstasy enthusiast and the notorious player teamed up to stage a far racier version of Miley Cyrus’ homemade porny photo spreads, as they posed alongside at least three topless prostitutes female friends who were overjoyed to fake anal sex and engage in a little lesbian chic foreplay for the paparazzi. The NSFW photos, including a particularly fun shot of the blondest, nude-iest girl for hire who appears to be delighted to have her head shoved towards the third wheel's crotch, after the jump:

When it comes to the art of stealing boyfriends, no one does it better than Lindsay Lohan. As Star reports in their current issue, the blood-sucking barer of flesh successfully seduced her former slim fast buddy Nicole Richie’s fiance this weekend. And her timing is suspiciously awful, considering new mom Richie is said to be sorely missing her party girl past. As a source tells Star:

• "I was just out of rehab, and [Steve Coogan] was right there with the drugs. I tried to warn Owen. I tried to warn his friends ... I hope from the bottom of my heart that Owen stays the hell away from that guy." [Us Weekly]
  

• Britney Spears' dad speaks out about Brit's firing her manager Larry Rudolph: "The Spears family would like to publicly apologize to Larry for our daughter's statements about him over the past few weeks." Britney's response: "I am praying for my father. We have never had a good relationship. It's sad that all the men that have been in my life do not know how to accept a real woman's love." Damn, we like this new publicist-having Britney! [Page Six]
  

• Lindsay Lohan wants a break from whatever it is that she does for living. [MSNBC]
  

Last night, Intern Heather, Wingwoman Kate, and erstwhile Gawker videographer Richard Blakeley hit the "Target Red Room," a.k.a. Meatpacking District lounge Bed, for an afterparty dedicated to English pop crooner James Blunt. The attendees included the "Beautiful" (and by "Beautiful", we mean "greasy as fuck") Blunt himself, some cast members from Blue States Lose: The Musical, and a bunch of sluts. The result is the video above, featuring more tard-dancing than ever collected in one clip, plus an ample photo gallery (with captions, even!) of various unsavory characters. Abandoned on the cutting room floor was footage of Blunt crying tears of grease over the fact that partygoers (especially the Gawker Intern and her trusty sidekick jumping spastically on the bed) enjoyed Toni Basil waaaaay more than his craptastic album. Heavy hangs the head that wears the crown of specious hipster fame.