You are currently browsing the archives for the Music category.
The drug-addicted, girlfriend-murdering front man from the Sex Pistols rises from the dead and auditions for that show fronted by the high-waisted king of bland.
If only something like this did happen on one of those insipid talentless-spotting shows, then we’d tune in each week. Next week, Captain Beefheart sqawks his way through “Neon Meate Dream of a Octafish”.
It’s too easy to ridicule the wobbly chinned, doughy chavsters that inhabit the Jeremy Kyle Show, they get all the suffering they’ll ever need just by looking in the mirror.
So better to embrace them and direct your hatred towards Mr Lowlife himself, Jezza Kyle and the TV network that makes loads of money off the back of these people’s pain and fuck ups. That’s right, riotous indignation!
These people have at least 3 pairs of raving shoes on, and they certainly don’t need alcohol to have a good time. But they do need more class A’s than you can possibly imagine. (the fun starts @ 2:10)
Back in the late 80s early 90s people got dressed in the dark, chewed their faces off, and put their hands in the air while staring like maddened animals. It was called rave culture. Bo.
Rihanna and The Lonely Island? Hell yeah. Something like this is just too awesome, it’s surprising the world hasn’t fallen of its axis and given up. Stating that we’ve hit our awesome quota for humanity and there’s nowhere else to go.
The only way it could be improved is if Rihanna got naked and rode off on a half-narwhal, half-unicorn beast and flew off between a triple rainbow into the universe to reveal she was the energy uniting the cosmos. Or something like that.
If this video doesn’t make you want to don a safari hat and go dancing in the street like a loon, then there must be something seriously wrong with you.
So off you go, don’t forget the hat, and make sure you get a friend to join you so they can dress up in lion costume and chase you round the neighbourhood. Chop-chop.
Dan Bull, poet laureate of the interwebs gives his rap verdict on all those super injunctions that everyone’s getting all upset about and that. Haven’t we got bigger things to worry about than rich people cheating on their spouses?
Like, what to have for dinner? Or maybe not, maybe censorship is wrong in all its many forms, plus there’s nothing better than reading some salacious gossip over your Sunday breakfast of fried lolz.
Selling the NHS aye. Nice one government, nice one. It’s not like people get ill any more is it, no, every known disease that man has every suffered from since the dawn of time has now been eradicated from the planet.
So, we don’t need a health system any more, let alone one that was free. Well done Mr. Secretary of State for Health, you’ve taken an outdated thing like helping people live and replaced it with something much more modern like watching them die.
Yeah, it’s OK for Thom Yorke to fling himself about like he was made of limbs and nothing else, without a care in the world. He thinks he’s so clever, like he’s beyond criticism or something.
Well, finally those people who thought the post-OK Computer albums were, frankly, a little bit shit and unlistenable, have a place they can meet, laugh, joke, and openly discuss how crap they really were.
