BRITS, Brits and Cracking Tits

Oh, Joss Stone, you complete pranny. Prancing and preening about on the stage of the BRIT awards, affecting your oh-so-genuine Home Counties yankee accent, and then deciding to try and trade comedy put-downs with Russell Brand. In the words of TV God Simon Amstell, "You won't win!"

This year's BRITS was a typically tiresome affair. In stark contrast with last year's pre-recorded ceremony (which was actually pretty great as they just made it a big long gig with some awards lobbed quickly at people in between sets), this year's much-heralded "live" show was a snoozefest of the highest order, with the only good performance coming from the Chilli Peppers - a band I don't even like!

On a different note, Britney's gone COMPLETELY MENTAL and shaved her OWN HEAD a day after checking out of REHAB! Hooray, pop's fun again!

Or is it? Is it even surprising? About 3 years ago, circa her 'Toxic' era (which I still maintain is a classic), myself and Jenster were half-drunkenly talking about our celebrity crushes, and I cited Britney. There were 2 main reasons for this: Firstly, cuz at the time she was putting out ace cheesy pop music. Secondly, she seemed ever so slightly loopy and I imagined she'd be a fascinating experiment of a human being to be in a relationship with.

It's too easy to laugh at her. Far too easy. Much harder is to look beyond the headlines and see the fucked-up girl at the heart of it. I personally hope Britney sorts herself the fuck out and learns how to be a good mum.

"Mother is the name for God on the lips and hearts of all children"

Machinations

Today I was sickened. Even more so than on Monday when my body decided to evacuate all fluids from me due to a piece of dodgy lamb. Today I was sickened by one simple thing.... Valentine's sodding Day!

I hate Valentine's Day. Now, before any conclusions are jumped to, I don't hate it because I'm single and hate all other people in relationships (read: jealousy). Not the case. I'm actually enjoying being single. Not enjoying it because I'm out every night with a different floozy on my arm and have grown accustom to fleeting encounters, because I'm not, and couldn't be even if I had the means/looks/charisma to do that. No, I'm enjoying it because I'm selfish and lazy, and not having any commitments suits me just fine right now.

The reason I hate Val's Day is simple (and further enhanced by working the night in a booze emporium); stupid, stupid people rushing around spending obscene amounts of money on things they don't need, like and won't last more than an hour (chocolates, champagne, etc). Why? Because they love their partner so much they just had to tell them? Because they had an epiphany at work that they can't live without them? No!

Because it's a globally advertised national fucking holiday. I would be the first to praise these people for their thoughtfulness were it not in every TV advert/newspaper/shop window around the whole country. No one wants to do this on February 14th, as no one's bank balance has recovered from xmas yet, but they all do because apparently everyone needs a preordained day in the year to remember to be nice to their partner. Is it not possible to just be nice to them when you feel like it?

This is a double-edge sword that even my argument can't rise to, and which further infuriates me about this day. Let's say you're the sort of person that actually does compliment your partner, or buy them gifts on a whim throughout the year simply because you want to express how they make you feel... and then you don't get them anything on Val's Day. Will the argument 'But I buy you gifts or take you for a meal all the time when I want to, I don't need a calendar day to remind me I love you' work? Not a chance. If you show your love 264 days of the year, but not Val's Day... you may as well be dead.

Damned if you do, damned if you don't. So I say damn YOU, Saint Valentine, you evil whoring cock!

Victory! Welcome Home

Brave nerves, it's good to have you back. Plowing through sludge and mortal grime has taken it's toll, all at the quest of finding that last show. Did you find it? Or did the blinding lights fill you with loathing for the bile that precedes us. Am I just a shadow to you now, or have you at long last found the wings to fly free?

Be careful with new wings, they're untrained and can shatter at a moment's notice, not unlike the promise of a new heart. With every breath we swamp another, and fail to hear any calls from the deep of the sky. And yet you return, my morning sky, with nothing but tales of daggers and blood, and how you took them both.

If nothing else we are cleansed, and free from the chains on our necks. Mission Complete, dear nerves! You have done us nothing but proud and shall be vanquished momentarily...

Please take a number and queue in the fashion so expected, we'll be along for your head shortly.....