Britains got the pop factor! Or AIDS, it's one or the other.

I don't like modern Britain. I don't like where we, as a nation, are headed. I don't like how all our best young people are crack addicts, and I don't like how all our best crack addicts are Amy Winehouse. What I really don't like is where the music scene is heading and I think everything thats wrong with it can be summed up in two words - The Kooks. I have to confess that when they first came around I quite liked them, I liked that song "Naive" I thought it was quite inoffensive and catchy, even though it was sung in a strained gurning vocal style with an accent that can only be described as Jawthern. I hummed along and thought to myself: "They seem like pleasent young men, I bet they're a bit of fun." Then I saw this:



Maybe they just caught them on a bad day, I thought, but low and behold a few years later- on the same program!- I saw this:



Now, in the above clip the impossible seems to have happend and Alex Zane is in a room with at least four people and is only the third biggest twat there. The two kooks sit there looking like stage school pete dohertys mumbling their way through the interview in their customary humourless style. After watching these clips it slowly dawned on me that Luke Pritchard is a tosspocket of mammoth proportions. Intrigued, I hunted down their album to see if their sparkling personalities translated to their music and lo and behold it was a huge shitcake. The moral of the story- music should not be made by jumped up stage school eductaed little bellends with no sense of their own ridiculousness.

God is a fan of misanthropic T.V critics-proof!

Charlie Brooker is a televisual prophet- I think we can all agree on that. I am in no doubt when machines form a cohesive A.I. and wage war on humans, and they will, that Charlie Brooker will be our leader in the fight against them. Him or Derren Brown anyway. But before then I think everyone should just enjoy the brilliance of the below clip. There's something amazingly subversive of how Charlie's Top Ten Cocks in Advertising appears at just the right time. It's almost as if god himself had a hand in it. That, or the producer thought the presenter was a dick. Either way, it's genius.

Dan in Real Life, is really boring.

I saw Dan in real life on DVD the other day and it astounded me, I would never have guessed how tolerant I was against boredom until I saw this film. It's not a brilliant appraisal when, because the remote control is out of reach, you consider blinding yourself rather than watch the last half an hour of a movie. I decided not to though. I felt that, in hindsight, I would have regretted the permanent loss of my sight no matter how much relief in gave me in the short term, sort of like having a really dangerous asphysixiation wank: no matter how much you may want it, it's best not to go down that road. The film stars Steve Carrell as Dan Burns, doing a passable impression of Charlie Brown, and Dane Cook, surprisingly believable as a human being(which is no mean feat) The film is a fairly contrived play where Dan falls for Mitch's (Cook) girlfriend, Marie, while the Burns family is on a vacation at their parent's beach house. The Burns family is weird. They appear to enjoy each others company and seem to fill their vacations with games and odd group aerobic sessions, when really they should fill them with bitterness, recrimination and drinking like the rest of us. After Dan falls for Marie, nothing happens. Literally. I actually paused the film by mistake and it took me ten minutes before I even noticed. The film is understated to the point where, as opposed to underplaying their roles, the cast just look bored, as if in between takes they were forced to watch rough edits of the finished film. The acting is o.k. and I didn't hate Dane Cook until I remembered he was Dane Cook, which took almost ten minutes, which is a triumph of sorts. It's obvious the film makers wanted to recreate a low key European vibe throughout the film and credit to them for resisting a more over the top approach that countless other American films(meet the parents) would have taken, a move which is especially difficult when you have Dane Cook in the film. It just feels they went too far the other way and, in trying to maintain an understated tone, they sapped the film, and characters, of any life or interest they may have had. It's not helped by a grating Sondre Lerche soundtrack and an interminably slow pace. So while it's not terrible, and it's intentions are good, it's just really, really, dull. Dan in real life? Dud in real life more like.

What they need is a bloody good war.

Kids today eh? They're rubbish aren't they? Well, yes quite frankly. When they're not listening to rap music and stabbing each other, they are trying to avoid working for a living by auditioning for numerous crap reality t.v. shows. What happened to the good old days? You remember Why Don't You and other such diamonds of the T.V schedule? Well I do too; what's missing? I'll tell you - role models. There aren't any any more, that's why we need this man back. Below are some of his numerous pearls of wisdom, with which to live your life. He's a bit like moses, but much, much more awesome - so when world peace is declared after everyone follows this advice, me and my friend Adam will accept your thanks graciously, as it's wrong to be smug.



I think we can all agree the advice given by Rammy is not only the best advice ever given to children, but a lesson we can all take something from as well.

Shakira's hips don't lie.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If I were a girl- I wouldn't write whiney songs about boys!

Beyonce has a new song out. Yay! The bootylicious one has taken time off from gyrating in hotpants to tell us menfolk exactly where we have been going wrong, and just why we shouldnt treat women as sex objects. Give us hell B!



Apparantly, there was a controversy when it turned out the song had been written by every hormonal schoolgirl, who discovered the boy they fancied had been making out with their best friend at the school disco, ever. But, thanks to some strongarming from good old Martin Knoweles (allegedly), that particular hurdle has been passed. The song is o.k and actually quite hummable, it just all seems a bit flat, and this kind of angsty pop rock has been done a lot better by pink, but Beyonce's popularity and the sellable lyrics mean this will be a huge hit and will no doubt be played endlessly at the aforementioned discos that started the whole thing. That's subversion, and you can take that to the bank.

Skinny Genius.

I have spent the past week in the capital of Great Britain, and between riding the tube and spending vastly inflated prices on drinks, discovered, to my horror, that London is absolutely nothing like the Monopoly board. Another cherished childhood institution is exposed as a dirty lie. I was expecting, nay hoping, for a London full of talking dogs, road ships and walking top hats, but there were none. I spent hours trying to find Go! and collect my £200 but, after wandering around for the best part of my weekend, the best I'd been offered was fellatio from an emancipated street whore(I gave him 50p and sent him on his way). Strangely, unlike I had been led to believe, London is not a perfect square, where every street is neatly lined up next to each other in an easily negotiable fashion, but a jumbled mess of tubes, intersects and skinny jeans. It was walking around Camden, with my childhood dreams already in tatters, when I realised: London is infested with skinny jeans- they're everywhere! I honestly don’t know how this current trend of silly emo hair, t-shirts large enough to live in, and painted on jeans has crept it's way into the upper echelons of society, like some form of fashionista chlamydia, but it has. If we should be lambasting Russell Brand for anything, and let's face it we should, it should be for skinny jeans. I am personally more offended by the silly fashion sense of impressionable, unimaginative, teens, trying to craft a unique identity by aping the first person they see on T.V, than the harassment of an old man over his sexually delinquent granddaughter, although, admittedly, this may be more my problem. Take a look at this:



This man is clearly a bellend. Yet he is, inexplicably, everywhere. Why? What has become of society when, in London, I can find thousands of despondant, imaginatively-retarded teens, willing to trade any semblance of their own personality to imitate him, a cynically manufactured XFM/E4 hair monkey, yet not one walking top hat? Unbelievably, it goes even further: Take a look at this shifty character:



He is exactly as annoying and talentless as the above moron, but with the added bonus of a silly voice, sort of like Windows XP compared to regular windows or TWAT 2.0. It's as if T.V and radio bosses sit around a jeans shop in Camden and give every tenth customer their own radio show. It has to stop. It's getting out of hand. Nobody wants another Terry Christian but that's where we're headed. Both of these presenters are famed for their irreverent wit, but, between them, they have managed to make me laugh as much as a cat with aids has(once, if you're asking, but again, this may be more my problem.)I think all T.V and radio presenters should be completely anonymous, then rather than picking people who are trendy or "speak to their audience", we could have presenters who just speak clearly. We could have a whole T.V schedule of anonymous, masked T.V presenters, who speak with wit and candour, but then the whole schedule might begin to resemble an Al-Queada recruitment video. Actually, I haven't thought this through. It doesn't change the fact that Alex Zane is a twat though.