It seems that some people are never happy. After saving the world by organising a few gigs, Bono has been slammed by head of African Aid Action, Jobs Selasie.

Bono, who is renowned for his messianic charisma and rumoured to heal the blind just with his touch, was criticised by Selassie for not involving grassroots African organisations and saying that such half-baked charity endeavours such as Live Aid are detrimental to the future of Africa. 

African Aid Action chief Selasie said:

"You can't impose change from without. It has to come from within and we won't end poverty with handouts."

Well, we're sure the celebrity multi-millionaire and tax evader philanthropist's friends will disagree, such as war-mongering President George Bush, who supported Bono's efforts at ending world hunger and violence by inviting him for dinner a few years back.

Don't worry Bono, a few more concerts with a range of spoilt and mediocre musicians will put any criticism from real charity workers to bed.

Read more:

Bono and Bob Geldof increase Africa's problems say charity – NME

[story by Paul McLoughlin]

Hecklerswag is an intermittent feature where we succumb to our inherent whorishness and briefly plug companies who send us stuff for free simply because they sent it to us…

The last time we went to the fancy dress, we did the lazy thing and went as James Bond. A pathetic sight, and an especially poor effort – not even a bow tie or replica PPK for company, much less a hot Bond Girl. We had Made No Effort.
 
By the time we arrived for the fancy dress shenanigans we were in a hell of a mess. A little bit of sick had come up. Tuxedos and sick, you see, are a far from classic combination. What we needed was something wipe-clean, like a bin liner, but with some kind of weird and menacingly distinctive fancy dress theme. That would prove that we had Made An Effort.
 
That's right, reader, we needed a DEVO SUIT.
 
Look at the picture. How cool is that? And it's a hands-down conversation starter, which is a pity given our general loathing for partypeople who attend fancy dress parties. The point is, you can buy it. It costs a mere $60 for you to look like one of Devo.
 
Naturally we've been saving up since July.
 
People of the world, we urge you to purchase the DEVO SUIT. The world would be a better place if everybody looked like this. We could form a club. Or stay in and wear it around the house. Annoy your flatmates. Watch that iron. Perfect for cyclists. Oil is no match for the DEVO SUIT, and it most likely prevents death and other illnesses too. Good for anybody near a log flume. Or on a bus. Or for doing uranium analysis and other boffin activities. Sick-resistant. Possibly not flame resistant.
 
The DEVO SUIT comes from the good people of 80stees.com, who also do groovy 80s retro Pac Man T-shirts and a supergeeky Oregon Trail T-shirt ('YOU HAVE DIED OF DYSENTERY' ).

Companies – want to be the next Hecklerswag subject? We're easily bought! Send us stuff for free and we promise to think about it. Email hello[AT]hecklerspray.com for more details.

Hecklerspray's inbox is constantly rammed full of the usual email requests from PRs, viral agencies, MySpace bands, game companies, movies publicists and irate Charlotte Church fans.

We have also received a slightly cryptic video from the folks managing the London 2012 Olympics and Paralympics on the theme of PASSION, which has prompted us to list our particular passions. Well, at least the ones we can tell you about…

So, in no particular order, Hecklerspray's writers have suggested the following things we are passionate about…

Green and Blacks dark chocolate – Food of the Gods, innit

Xbox Live – Sony must be having kittens. We love Xbox Live. Microsoft is so uncool that we're considering the possibility that it is, in fact, cool.

Brigitte Bardot, circa 1962 – no explanation needed.

The couch – We love our battered couch, but Hecklerspray's office needs a better one. The couch is of course single most important piece of furniture. After the bed.

The bed – see above.

Thai food – sorts you out. Especially after the day after the day after the night before. Two-day hangovers are the worst.

The Ferrari Dino – at four we knew this was the prettiest car ever. We didn't know the value of money back then, only that the car was a joy. And it remains one of the best. Ferrari: take note.

The Internet – without it we would be doing shitty jobs for people we hated.

Google – never before have answers been so easy to find. The only downside is the the death of the blessed Pub Quiz.

Hunter S Thompson's obituary for Nixon – "He was scum. Let there be no mistake in the history books about that. Richard Nixon was an evil man – evil in a way that only those who believe in the physical reality of the Devil can understand it. He was utterly without ethics or morals or any bedrock sense of decency. Nobody trusted him–except maybe the Stalinist Chinese, and honest historians will remember him mainly as a rat who kept scrambling to get back on the ship."

Cartman – the whole South Park shebang is wonderful, but special merit goes to Cartman, for being so hateful, and so amusing.

Larry David – if ever there was one person we wanted to hand over a tiny slice of Hecklerspray to, for the purposes of saying 'shareholders include XYZ', then it is Larry David. Not that he needs the money…

Catch-22, by Joseph Heller – heartfelt thanks to former English teacher, Mr Robinson, for providing this after we refused to read Bleak House on the grounds that 'I wanted to kill myself after the first four pages'.

'Laughing' Leonard Cohen – music that makes you wanna party.

J. Mascis – a hellishly good guitar player. Last.fm's profile of Dinsoaur says it best, accurately describing the band as "soul-crushing noise rock".

Stationery – it is like a pervy foot fetish, we imagine. The smell of new ink. Devices made by Rotring. Pens with tiny nibs. STABILO BOSS. Oh, oh…

The Fall – as we keep telling y'all: The Fall Is High Art. Discuss.

Withnail & I – in the Top Ten Best Films Ever, specifically for the line: "These are the sort of windows faces look in at."

David Attenborough – we salute you, master of life on earth!

Wine – red is best. Crates of red are better.

Richard Dawkins – and other challengers of Creationism.

Peter Beardlsey's goal against Norwich – the one from the right wing touchline, a feigned cross. A gem of a player.

Facebook – a sort of slightly grown up social network where you can POKE PEOPLE. Not exactly a passion, now we mention it.

Rain of the straight variety – most people love the sun, and so do we. But hey, we also love the rain, so long as it falls in a straight top-to-bottom way. Wind is an abuser of elements. To hell with wind.

E L Wisty – and Peter Cook in general.

Coffee – you can ban the cigs but take away our coffee and there will be hell to pay.

Analogue synthesizers – Korgs and Moogs, preferably.

The Rockwell font – you can expect some changes around here, for we have fallen head over heels for Rockwell.

Hot Dogs – FUCKIN' A!

Family – ah, we're softies at heart, but it's true, bless 'em.

Creekit – still being spelt incorrectly by the Oxford English Dictionary, creekit is a way of turning our backs on the inanity of celebrity culture, for an afternoon or some cases the best part of a week. But with Paris Hilton being arrested most days it is becoming ever harder to switch off…

Peter Alliss – "Gosh, what an enormous one for such a little chap…"

Bill Hicks – if we're wrong and there is a Hell then we know we're going to be in great company.

Crème Eggs – we know they're full of sugar, and that's presumably why they taste so good.

Peroni – made for Friday afternoons. And Tuesdays. And Wednesdays. And occasionally on the weekend, come to think of it…

Pool – we don't play as often as we used to, so we'd rather like one of those big American-sized tables for our office. We'd do a celebrity 'Pool Off'…

Dodgy songs that give people The Rage – especially Caribbean Blue, by Enya.

The films of Stanley Kubrick – apart from that one with Tom Cruise in it.

Otters – they're cute, innit!

Travel – it's good to get away. We are thinking about doing a Hecklerspray World Tour, just for the hell of it. We'll let you know when you should flee your place of residence.

5 Star Hotels – see above. Once, we were peasants, sharing bunk beds with tramps… but now we like to live it up whenever we can. That said, £28 for a gin and tonic just ain't right…

Adidas Samba – a finer casual shoe has yet to be created.

The English Countryside – breathe it in, people.

Swearing – because word combinations are better with a bit of fucking emphasis, right? "Yes, but you don't have to be so rude!" No, we don't. You're right, you fucker!

Puns – 'Careless Wrister', etc etc.

Money – yeah you heard us buddy, we like the green stuff. A pretty obvious choice, but it helps you get by a little easier, and that's all there is to it. Send any unwanted dosh to us…

Cake – a slice of Victoria Sponge should be taken at 3.30pm each day, for the Best Results.

The iPod – those bloogy Apple ads are well annoying, and iPods don't always work so well on Windows, but they're pretty neat devices. Thumbs up.

Driving, fast – there's just something about belting along at ferocious speeds that makes you feel good.

Lists – Nick Hornby sold out the men of the world when he revealed to the fairer sex that men love compiling lists. And it's true, as this list proves. 

So, what are you passionate about, buddy?

It seems Justin Timberlake knows just how to treat a woman -  whisk them off to a romantic location treat them to a slap up meal and spoil them rotten… or maybe just drag them to Manchester and take them to Nando’s as the case may be.

Timberlake is said to have flown new love interest Jessica Biel over the Atlantic to join him for dinner in his favourite British restaurant. Which, somewhat inexplicably, seems to be Nando’s. But this wasn’t to be a romantic date for two; Jessica Biel had to share Justin Timberlake with ten other men cramming peri-peri chicken and perinaise into their faces, all unaware that they were disrupting the greatest romance the world has ever known.

Although Justin Timberlake and our favourite Cameron Diaz spaz-out provoker Jessica Biel have still not confirmed that they are together, it seems that Timberlake can’t get enough of The Illusionist star. The day after their delicious Nando's date, Justin Timberlake and Jessica Biel were seen at Old Trafford watching Manchester United get beat by West Ham.

We're not sure if trips to semi-pikey restaurants and a football match say much about Justin's 'Trouser Snake' image, but we love his down to earth approach to dating, if you don’t consider that he flew Jessica Biel 3,000 miles in the first place.

It seems to us as if Justin Timberlake is really getting involved in the British culture; he’ll be binge-drinking alcopops, moaning about the weather and happy-slapping bus drivers with cricket bats before you know it.

Read more:

Justin And Jessica Sitting In A Tree – MTV  

[story by Lauren Ezekiel]

The new generation of games consoles are hovering over us like expectant wives. But unlike wives, these machines are designed for our entertainment pleasure and don’t care how often we tell them we love them.

With Microsoft and Sony both going for full, brute-force power with the Xbox 360 and PlayStation 3 respectively, it’s left cash-strapped Nintendo with only one path to go down: innovation. Or give up. OK, two paths to go down. Luckily, they chose the first.

Unfortunately, the company chose a rather pathetic name: the Wii. Blame the Japanese. You see, it’s their version of the word ‘we’ meaning ‘everyone’. It’s a console for everyone… Get it?

The Wii uses a new type of controller, packed with motion-sensitive technology, to immerse the player like never before. Never before in the home, that is. Arcades have been dabbling in this stuff for years.

The idea is pretty straight forward; you clutch the remote-control-like controller (Wiimote) like a tennis racket to play a tennis game, a bowling ball to bowl, etc. The Wiimote senses everything from how hard you swing it to where in relation to the TV it’s being held. Liken it, if you will, to magic.

Pros

The controllers
The Wiimote is a bridge between the ‘hard core’ gamers and the people who’ve heard of that Lara Croft character and maybe dabbled in Singstar at a party this one time. It’s intuitive, so anyone can pick it up and play. That’s the theory. We’re happy to report that it’s also how it works in practise, with the Wii becoming popular with grans, dads, sisters and neighbours up and down the country. Seriously, our dad loved it and he hates video games.

It’s cheap
It costs £180. Yes, £180. One more time? £180. For that you get the console a Wiimote, the Wiimote’s sometime companion the nunchuck (also motion sensitive), and one game; Wii Sports. Yes, yes, we know. Wii Sports. It sounds rude.

It has some very nice titles
The boxed game, Wii Sports, contains the following gaming treats; golf, tennis, bowling, boxing and baseball. Each one is a good old laugh, with plenty of room for developing the mad skillz.
Other titles of excellence include, Zelda Twilight Princess (a massive sprawling adventure game), Wario Ware (a truly excellent party game), Wii Play (another medley of gaming titbits) and Rayman Raving Rabbids (a game you need crack to play*).
Look out for these, too: Cooking Mama, Mario Party 8, Super Mario Galaxy, Metroid Prime 3 and Super Smash Brothers Brawl.

Nice features
The Wii has a wireless internet connection so, if you have the right set-up at home, you can browse the net, check the news and the weather. You can also create little avatars for you and all your mates. Nintendo has chosen to call them Miis. Your Mii can be swapped with other Wii owners over the net. The current fad amongst Wii owners is to mock up Miis of famous serial killers and dictators. Someone sent us a Hitler and Jeffrey Dahmer to play with.
Not only that, but you can also download dozens of retro Nintendo and Sega games, like Sonic, Golden Axe, classic Bomber Man, Mario 64 and many other. This costs money though.

It’s not HD!
Remember the HD thing we talked about with the Xbox 360? Well, it doesn’t exist on the Wii. With Wii your current old TV will work just fine. Although you may need to lift it up three feet, and clear some room… and something bigger than a 25-inch set would be beneficial.

It’s hot property, you know

If you have Wii, you will be popular. Everyone wants one. Even your mum. Go on, ask her.

Cons

Not many games just now
It’s early days for the Wii. Even though game studios like Electronic Arts have whole departments dedicated to Wii development, titles are few and far between at the moment. Sigh. Rumours of a Harry Potter wand-wielding game and a Star Wars light sabre fare are, well, just rumours for now.

It’s not HD
If you have an HD TV, the Wii will look decisively poor on it next to, say, the Xbox 360. Oh well.

Rehash, rehash.
For every generation of Nintendo console there is one constant: there will always be a Mario and there will always be a Zelda. It’s hardly original thinking. Having said that, they have all been corkers. Super Mario All Stars on the SNES, Mario 64 on the N64 and, er, Mario Sunshine on the GameCube… OK, that was rubbish. The Wii will continue this long standing tradition.

Need a lot of batteries
The Wiimotes can go through batteries like the Scots go through whiskey. It’s best to invest in a slew of rechargeables. There’s also some nifty recharge holders on the way. But, if like us you haven’t got either, battery cost soon adds up. Like we said, it’s early days for the Wii.

If you can get one, get one. The Wii really is a lot of fun. You will need space in your room to play it, mind. And, if you have a tiny telly, it may prove an awkward gaming experience. But don’t let that put you off.

Next time, we’ll be tantalising you with the ups and downs of the last console to hit the shelves, the PlayStation 3. In the meantime, we’re off to Woolworths to find a good pack of rechargeable batteries.

*Do not use crack.

[story by Richard Preston] 

British TV is entering that solace phase, where it sheds off old shows and wraps itself up in an extra thick layer of winter goggle-candy. Big Brother ends, Top Gear starts. Channel 4 pulls on its thermals in the shape of Skins, ITV gets ready to cover us in goosebumps with Supernatural and the BBC, well, it ploughs on with Casualty and the like.

We're pretty much non-plussed by the lot. Apart from a slight tear shed at Dirk ‘Starbuck’ Benedict missing out on his rightful second coming in the hearts of the UK public, British TV is offering nothing as sexy and as bloody brilliant as the US is. 

Once again it’s down to 24 – the show that continues to rewrite rule books – to show us how exciting and gosh-darn thrilling a simple 45 minutes can be.

Season six of 24 kicked off in the States a few weeks ago, followed with impressive speed by Sky One here in the UK. We don’t want to spoil it for you if you haven’t already watched it… OK, then, we will.

Jack’s been in a Chinese prison for, get this, almost two years. In laymen’s terms that from the moment he finished Season five to the very start of Season six. The man hasn’t had a good night’s kip, a decent lay or cup of tea in all that time. From the outset, it’s obvious it can go one of two ways; either Jack’s fine and the show throws away things like ‘realism’, ‘understanding’ and any thread of believability it still has. Or, he’s not fine and he’s a mess.

We're pleased to say, it’s the latter. God, we don’t hate Jack. We love him. Really. We don’t want to swap wrestling moves and start dating his sister, but we love him.

More than that, though, we love good TV. And 24 has been good from the outset. It’s good – no, it’s excellent - because it continues to push its boundaries. Where as most TV shows strive to keep a status quo, a constant with characters and relationships to maintain a familiarity with the audience so they always come back, 24 sacrifices all of that for roller-coaster drama. You just don’t know who’s going to die next, or, more crucially, how. 24 is only four episodes in and season six has done just that.

24 rewards viewers who stay the course and, as far as we're concerned, it’s not a chore. They’re rewarded with heart-pounding tension, psychological intrigue, moments that force you to lift your jaw off the floor, question how true to life it might be and how the hell these actors do their jobs with such conviction, most of all Kiefer Sutherland.

Sutherland’s performance in season six of 24 has so far been exemplary. It has to be as it's his Jack that drives the show every year. Behind him, the rest of the cast get on with the inter-personal relationships, back stabbing, cock ups and the doughy-eyed gawping. A welcome addition this year is Alexander Siddig (BBC’s Hannibal, Deep Space Nine), who plays the leader of an Islamic Arab terrorist cell apparently now dedicated to peace. The presence of whom has already caused our Jack to break down and cry, though we won’t tell you why exactly.
 
The first four episodes of season six were broadcast in one fell swoop in the States, (though were more staggered here in Britain) for explosive effect. Now we, along with the billion other 24 fans, wait with baited breath to see how this latest series of TV’s most honed show continues. Now join us. Go on.

What do you mean you don’t watch 24? Get over it. Steal a box set, any of the five that are already out, and bloody well join in.

Read more:

24 – Fox 

[story by Richard Preston] 

Incredibly old is the new young. Hecklerspray once met Muhammed Ali and he pretended to spar with us at a book signing. Although this may make you think “wow – you sparred with the greatest living sportsman on Earth,” the reality was a man with Parkinson’s making us feel slightly uncomfortable in a Guildford shopping centre.

However Ali in this state still would have kicked the living shit out of Stallone at 60. Rocky Balboa? Is anyone in this country actually going to watch this film? Let alone a film about Harrison Ford and Sean Connery (combined age: 46,923) hobbling around a dusty old temple complaining about their dodgy hips. That's Indiana Jones 4, if you hadn't already guessed.

Indiana Jones 4 may test our suspension of disbelief when it comes to geriatric hi-jinks. With Steven Spielberg and George Lucas it will in good hands, but with Harrison Ford they may be rather wrinkly, arthritic hands. Indiana Jones 4 is rumoured to be more character-based, inspired by the success of action-hero-reinvented-as-character films Casino Royale and Batman Begins. Hopefully they can overcome this obvious hurdle, but we keep having flashbacks to Roger Moore’s ‘paedo spy on the loose’ epic, A View to a Kill. The latest news is that Sean Connery is considering stepping in as Jones Sr. The genuinely hard-as-nails Scotsman said

“at the moment, there's nothing decided. I haven't got the script. Everything depends on the script.”

Sean Connery has not appeared in a film since the execrable League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. It’s not surprising that the most impersonated man in the world had retired from making films – League of Extraordinary Gentlemen almost made us retire from watching films. We think they should take their inspiration from Elvis vs The Mummy cult classic Bubba Ho-Tep and set Indiana Jones 4 in a nursing home.

Read more:

Connery Talks About Indiana Jones 4 – Monsters And Critics

[story by Simon Sharp] 

Oh, come now, Rosie O'Donnell and Donald Trump. Must we fight? Rosie, are you not just a disturbingly coiffed, no-lipped business man at heart? And Donald, are you not just a brash, Krispy Kreme-loving lesbian underneath that designer lapel?

Unfortunately for all of us that have been rooting for these two kids to get together ever since the heaven-ordained reunion of Kid Rock and Pammy Anderson made us believe in love again, Rosie and The Don continue to metaphorically monkey-toss their excrement at one another (at least we pray it's metaphorical). This is turning out to be the biggest battle since Zach and Jessie both ran for class president on Saved By The Bell, especially now that Donald Trump has started writing letters.

The rift between the aesthetically-challenged Rosie O'Donnell and the aesthetically-challenged Donald Trump ignited on December 20, following Donny’s announcement that he would not fire the current Miss USA after her current struggle with drugs and alcohol was made public. Rosie stated her opinion on the matter (shocking!!), saying he was like a “snake-oil salesman on Little House on the Prairie.” And BAM! In one fell swoop she insults Trump, salesmen, snakes, and a classic gem of a television show which touched the hearts of millions. Thankfully Trump was on his game, firing back with his own slew of insults that would set the ears of playground bullies burning, calling her “ignorant,” “crude,” and the real zinger… “fat pig.” Evidently for Trump, scorching insults are comprised of stating the obvious.

The latest tidbit in this whirlwind of stupidity is a letter written by The Don to Roz, showing that he has obviously taken the high road in the situation. The high road meaning, of course, he is dragging a third party into the ring in an effort to create more controversy… controversy that keeps just enough oxygen flowing to keep public interest in him from flat-lining. The letter in question ‘exposes’ Barbara Walters as what appears to be a two-faced evil genius, who surely manipulated the feud between the pair. Here’s a portion of the letter for the viewing pleasure of all:

“An article in today's New York Post, indicates that you blew up at Barbara Walter for being a 'liar.' Actually, I don't blame you, but in fact she lied to both of us! After your maniacal and foolish rant against me two weeks ago, Barbara called me from her vacation (I did not call her) in order to apologise for your behaviour. … she said that 'working with her is like living in hell' and, more pointedly, 'Donald never get into the mud with pigs' and, 'don't worry, she won't be here for long.'”

Well, it’s as plain as punch now who’s the puppet master is in this vicious feud! Barbara Walters. It’s just a matter of time before she rips off her rubber mask a la Tom Cruise in Mission: Impossible to reveal that she is, in fact, the Spawn of Satan! Or Star Jones… same dif. And as if this wasn’t enough, in true Trump fashion, he jumps at the self-created opportunity to mentor Rosie with his Apprentice-style business advice:

“I was surprised that you let your spat with Barbara get into the newspapers, but, as I have always said and as you proved with Rosie, the magazine, you are very self destructive. You must work on this for your own good!"

Can’t cha’ just feel the love, people? It’s obviously safe to say that these two will soon be running towards each other in slow-motion across a dewy meadow with arms outstretched, while the melodic stylings of Kenny G accompany their sweet, sweet embrace of forgiveness.

Read more:

Trump: Barbara Lied to Both Of Us – CBS 

[story by Annette Hyde] 

The third of January, the calm before the storm. London almost seems dead quiet for a change. As we gently recover from all the joys of the festive season, a friend comes to town to visit, thankfully prising this writer off the couch and away from the post New Year’s eve comedown.

We're looking for something, small, fun, and random – to complete his day in the big smoke. The NME listings provide little inspiration, but then that ever-present thing called thelondonpaper actually saves our night. Who knew? We make a mental note to remember this serendipitous occasion after a name on the listings jumps out at our well-informed compadre. “Oh look, it’s Eats Tapes, that electro duo from San Fransisco!”

And so we find ourselves back in Soho, at a club called Everything Must Go (Formerly known as Pop, and temporarily using this name from last November to this month). The classy interior instantly impresses, and as the choppy mix of mashed-up beats and noises hits our eardrums, he remarks, “Yeah, I felt like some fucked up electro tonight.” This could be just the little gem we were looking for.

When Little Paper Squares take the stage, the initial thought was "Oh wow, we’ve just paid money to come out and see men dance in their underwear. Wicked." They’re loud, they’re extroverts, they’re crazily passionate about the noise they’re making – Little Paper Squares were nothing if not entertaining. We could sum them up as crazy electro nudity, in baby pink y-fronts (and matching socks), while the other guy wore a more modest pair of yellow track pants. The nudity bit came when the one in pink decide to show off his ass, and then his ‘walnut’ to the lucky (cringing) crowd.

But all that aside, I respected the roars he used to start off the set, while the other guy revved the crowd up, and demanded everyone stand up and come to the front. And I appreciated the spectacularly crap 80s karaoke element – Phil Collins You Know I Love You sung with an emotionally pained expression, and when they passed round the mic again, your writer even did a chorus of Tracy Chapman’s Fast Car for the hell of it. It all had a surreal effect, in between the shockingly loud blasts from the speakers, and the odd stillness after a girl did a poetry reading, in German. It isn’t a set to forget in a hurry. 

San Francisco duo Eats Tapes were completely into it, in a different way. They remained absorbed and absorbing with the quality noodlings on their machines, performed live for our dancing pleasure. We enjoyed it as much as they did – the perfect mixture of beats, horns, and excellently groovy basslines. Sophisticated and every bit as satisfying. 2007 was already off to a good start.

[story by Dedee W]

Raise your glasses 'cos the bitch is back.
 
You can't keep a good hellraiser down. According to reports, Sharon Osbourne turned up on set of The Sharon Osbourne Show drunk yesterday. Luckily Sharon Osbourne had a killer excuse for being so hopelessly drunk:

"I’m pissed, but it's my birthday."

That's right, yesterday was Sharon's 54th. We wonder if she got her alcohol from Asda.

Still, at least we know that under all of those baggy nylon jumpers beats the heart of old hellraiser we know and love. We're told that Sharon frequently exclaimed "Oh fuck, I made a mistake" throughout filming – some would argue that making the show was a mistake, but we'll not dwell on that. We bet that’s the most entertainment her studio audience have had in a long time.

Normally The Sharon Osbourne Show is dullness incarnate and we get the sinking feeling that the producers of the show will edit all of Sharon's wobbly drunken behaviour down to the normal boring crap. Such a pity. The show will be aired at 5pm tonight. 

Tea time television would be so much more entertaining if presenters turn up pissed, don't you think? Can you imagine the carnage if Richard and Judy were allowed to knock back absinthe in the Green Room? Television GOLD!

Sharon Osbourne's Destructo Boozeathon The Sharon Osbourne Show will be broadcast tonight at 5pm. If any of you geeks manage to get a drunken Sharon Osbourne outburst captured on YouTube and quickly leave the link as a comment, we'll send you a paltry token of our appreciation.

Read more:

Osbourne: Drunk in charge of a chat show – TV Scoop 

Well, it's official. We've all been wrong about Paris Hilton. She isn't the oversexed, wonky-eyed rumpy-pumpy punter we all though she was. In fact, Paris Hilton is really a shining example of innocence.

Paris Hilton recently told British GQ magazine that she's swearing off sex for the next year – and she's also made another fine admission; that she's only ever had sex with two men. Which our office calculator works out as a 50% actual sex/internet sex hit-rate, and for that Paris Hilton should be heartily congratulated.

Paris Hilton has rotten luck, doesn't she? Stuck by a sudden piss attack in a taxi, named as a terrible dog owner – these are not the traits of a lucky lady. But where Paris Hilton reaches her most unfortunate is in her sex life. We've got to feel sorry for the poor girl because she says she's only had two sexual partners but somehow one of the two incidences happened to get caught on video.

Maybe Rick Soloman knew that Paris giving it up was a rare thing and that's why he got the cameras rolling. Or maybe, the events of One Night In Paris captured Paris Hilton's first time! That must have been it. Paris Hilton told GQ Magazine:

"People think I sleep with everyone, but I'm not like that. Kissing is all I do… The reason so many of my relationships don't work is guys are like, 'Hey what's going on? It's been like four months and I'm only getting a kiss here."

Maybe we've been giving Paris Hilton too hard of a time and this is the truth. After all, we know loads of people who were rumoured to have caught herpes from kissing, or have been called a "hooker" from kissing too much, or have been accused of having sex with Tom Sizemore when really they just wanted a kiss. Who knows, all those bruises that showed up on Paris Hilton when she and Nick Carter broke up a couple of years ago could've been the result of her not putting out. He was a Backstreet Boy after all, so we're sure he had little tolerance for girls not willing to give it up. And to prove how dedicated she is to the kissy kissy and nothing else, Paris Hilton also told the magazine:

"I'm not having sex for a year. I've decided… I'll kiss, but nothing else."

This leaves one – well, maybe more than one – burning question:

In Paris Hilton's celibate world, is kissing limited to the lips?

Read more:

Paris Hilton: I'm Not Having Sex For A Year – Entertainmentwise

[story by Kylie Craig] 

Paris Hilton
Stars Are Blind
Wea

Paris Hilton – heiress, Heat staple, (home) movie star – has been threatening to launch a singing career for almost two years now. In fact, the Paris album had become something of an urban legend, even starting to rival the age-old rumour that Jamie Lee Curtis is actually, y’know, a hairy great fella. So it comes as a bit of a surprise in July 2006 to find her peddling a rather lovely slice of sun-soaked, pissed-on-the-beach reggae pop. So what if Stars Are Blind bears more than a passing resemblance to reggae classic Kingston Town? So what if her vocal performance is the least convincing since Patsy Kensit trilled her way through I’m Not Scared? And so what if her upcoming cover of Do Ya Think I’m Sexy is enough to have us waking up in a cold sweat begging for a Lisa Scott-Lee comeback? Right now Stars Are Blind is the perfect summer pop single, and we’re not ashamed to admit that we’re bloody loving it.

All kinds of funky-ass singles reviews after the jump, from Boy Kill Boy, Raconteurs, The Hedrons, TV On The Radio, The Common Redstarts, Frank, The Horrors and Panic! At The Disco…

Boy Kill Boy
Civil Sin
Universal

Leytonstone’s Boy Kill Boy must have the record collection of the archetypal hip, slightly despondent early eighties student. The type who never became a full-blown goth – hey, that was just another way of conforming, wasn’t it? – but definitely experimented with eyeliner and always favoured an asymmetrical haircut. Civil Sin – the third single from the band’s top 20 debut album Civilian – mixes the gloomy synths of Depeche Mode with the energy of The Jam and the strut of pre-MTV Duran Duran. The best way to listen to it? Get pissed; have a bitch about Thatcher; then jump around the room in a self-consciously rickety fashion.

Raconteurs
Hands
XL

We feel as though we’ve known Hands - the second single from Jack White’s 'new band made up of old friends' the Raconteurs – for, like, ever and ever. It mixes trademark elements of sixties pop – verses that sound like choruses, dreamy, lovelorn lyrics and wonderful "woo woo" backing vocals – with muscular guitar riffs straight out of classic seventies rock. What’s more, it makes our dad want to show off his air guitar skills whenever it comes onto the radio. Like a wet flannel to your forehead on a scorching summer’s day, it’s in no way modern or innovative, but it is completely satisfying.

The Hedrons
Be My Friend
Measured Records

These all-girl bands are all the rage lately, what with The Like and The Pipettes and, um, you know, the others. But The Hedrons are slightly more muscular than the latest crop of girl bands. The Hedrons, for want of a less disturbing description, are The Pipettes with big hairy testicles. The new Hedrons single Be My Friend is a great big wedge of incessant melodic guitar rock – the kind that Ash wish they'd make every time they say they're going to go heavy. The Hedrons say that they're the lovechildren of the Foo Fighters and Joy Division godfathered by Iggy Pop. Don't actually try to imagine the sort of mangled freak that that particular union would create, though – just give Be My Friend a spin instead.

TV On The Radio
Wolf Like Me
4AD

TV On The Radio are an incredibly cool 'avant-garde indie rock band'. How cool? Well, David Bowie sings backing vocals on their album. You want more? Karen O from the Yeah Yeah Yeahs has appeared in one of their videos. You’re still not satisfied? How about this: their lead singer’s called Tunde, which is a proper, iconic-sounding rock star name (even though the lead singer of the Lighthouse Family is called Tunde as well). But – hang on! – it’s not time for Kate Moss to start kissing one of them just yet, because there’s one little issue that changes TV On The Radio from Keith Richards to Cliff Richard. Their new single’s chorus sounds a bit like The Police. What a shame!

The Common Redstarts
Save It For Your Friends
Seeca

Wait a minute, didn't you hear this song on Eastenders in the caff once? And, come to think of it, hasn't it been playing pretty much constantly on Sky Sports lately? Why yes, yes it has. And it's not hard to see why – Save It For Your Friends by The Common Redstarts is just about the most perfect summer slice of guitar pop we've heard since The Libertines disintegrated into a mess. We can't get enough of this one and, since it's been all but ubiquitous over the last few months, that's really saying something.

Frank
I’m Not Shy
Polydor

Have you ever watched Channel 4’s Totally Frank? Yeah, we think we caught about five minutes’ worth after the Hollyoaks omnibus one time, too. Apparently it’s a teen drama serial about a struggling girl group who get into all sorts of kerayzee japes on the long, winding road towards pop stardom. A bit like Sugar Rush, but with guitars instead of muff-on-muff action. Anyway, the band from the show – Frank, name fans – have taken it upon themselves to release a proper, not-just-on-TV pop single. About as an appealing as a few hours on Hampstead Heath with a 58-year-old potbellied truck driver, isn’t it? But, luckily for Frank, lead singer Lauren Blake has a sexy, drawling voice and I’m Not Shy was written and produced by Xenomania, the geniuses behind Girls Aloud’s run of stunning singles. It’s not as immediate as Sound Of The Underground or The Show, but after a few plays its sultry pop charms begin to emerge, like an eyelid coyly opening at 9am the morning after the night before…

The Horrors
Death At The Chapel
Loog

These are the only things we know about The Horrors. 1) There are five of them. 2) They have wacky names like Spider Webb and Joshua Von Grimm. 3) Their last single had a video starring the bald woman out of Minority Report dancing around while aliens explode out of her head and vagina. 4) It was directed by Chris Cunningham, which probably means it's quite good. 5) Judging by their new single Death At the Chapel, the only music The Horrors have ever heard to is The Saga by The Libertines and a tramp hitting a cheap organ with a stick. 6) Despite this, we quite like Death At The Chapel. 7) They need to sack their hairdressers as soon as they can.

Panic! At The Disco
Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off
Atlantic

Why emo is the most irritating musical sub-genre ever:

1. The self-consciously lengthy song titles.
2. The legions of frontmen with that identikit whiny teen vocal style.
3. The relentless plundering of Nirvana’s quiet, LOUD, quiet, LOUDER! dynamic

Why Panic! At The Disco’s new single is preferable to most emo ‘songs’ (but not preferable to the Paris Hilton single):

1. It has a chorus.
2. Lead singer Brendan Urie displays a modicum of vocal charisma.
3. They’re not Fall Out Boy.

[reviews by Nick Levine]

Madonna
Get Together
Warner

"Do you believe in love at first sight? It’s an illusion; I don’t care," is a fairly inane pop lyric but, surrounded by the pulsating Gallic disco of Get Together, it sounds utterly life-affirming. The third single from Madonna’s Career Salvation on a Dancefloor album – released to coincide with the European leg of her arena-raping tour – recalls Stardust’s Music Sounds Better With You thanks to its thumping bass line and transcendent, arms-in-the-air chorus. Sexual icon, queen of the dancefloor, H&M designer: is there nothing Mrs Ritchie can’t do?*

*Except, of course, act.

Brace yourself for a veritable attack of singles reviews, from Pet Shop Boys, Forward, Russia, Snow Patrol,Ray Lamontagne and Christina Aguilera, all after the jump…

Pet Shop Boys
Minimal
Parlophone

Life is good for Neil Tennant and Chris Lowe at the moment: their Fundamental album’s been greeted with plaudits they haven’t enjoyed since the early nineties – "A magnificent return to form!", "Trevor Horn-tastic!!", "Greatest British Pop Group of the Last Twenty Years!!!" – and rumour has it that they’re currently working on the new Robbie Williams album. Second single Minimal is a sleek electro tune about the absurdity of blank interior design, with a vocodered chorus and typically sharp lyrics from Tennant: "An empty box, an open space, a single thought leaves a trace". As stylish and sexy as Sienna Miller wafting through The Conran Shop in a vintage Chloe frock.

Forward, Russia
Eighteen
Dance to the Floor

Sheffield’s got the Arctic Monkeys; Newcastle has Maximo Park; so why shouldn’t Leeds get in on the post-punk revival act with Forward Russia? Helpfully, the band have a lovely self-conscious quirk to raise them above the legions of hairy NME types in possession of the Talking Heads back catalogue: they don’t have song titles, but rather song numbers. Hence they’re following their top forty hits Twelve and Nine with new single Eighteen. It’s a strangely impressive track, beginning with jerky new wave guitar licks but propelled by an insistent drumbeat and keening vocals into muscular 70s rock riff-o-rama. After a few listens you’ll even find traces of a melody buried in the mix. We still think the whole number thing’s bloody irritating, though.

Snow Patrol
Chasing Cars
Polydor

Snow Patrol’s last single – the sprightly, catchy You’re All I Have – almost managed to dispel their reputation as dull-as-Lineker’s-golf-coverage bedwetters. But Chasing Cars takes a well-positioned pin to the shiny balloon of hecklerspray goodwill that last tune created. Its plodding piano riff and bloodless vocal meander along for four and a half minutes, never hitting fifth gear and only really leaving neutral for the last minute or so. And life’s too short to endure tedious, navel-gazing lyrics like "I don’t know how to say how I feel" ever again. Like spending 24 hours locked in a windowless cell with Imogen from Big Brother.

Ray Lamontagne
Trouble
14^th Floor

Ray Lamontagne’s Trouble has been knocking around for over a year now, but its New Radio Mix has finally propelled the tune into the top 40, on download sales alone. You’ve seen the ubiquitous TV ad no doubt- "I’ve been saaaaaaaaaaaaved by a woman"- so you’ll have heard Lamontagne’s extraordinary voice in all its gravelly, whisky-soaked glory. We hate to recommend another male singer-songwritery type in the current climate – it’s a bit like ringing up Imelda Marcos and waxing lyrical about how bloody marvellous Manolo Blahniks are – but Lamontagne really is a cut above the James Blunts of this world.

Christina Aguilera
Ain’t No Other Man
RCA

Once upon a time there was a lovely pop princess called Christina. She was cute and blonde and blessed with a voice to keep Whitney in rehab ‘til at least 2020. And, you know what, she was a genie in a bottle baby; you had to rub her the right way. But then she decided she wanted to grow up; she wanted to be sexy; and, most of all, She Wanted To Gain Artistic Control. So she made a preposterous seventy-seven minute album about how hard it is to be 'Xtina', taking in arena rock (Fighter), an urban pop sexathon (Dirrty) and the best power ballad of the new millennium (Beautiful). Sample lyric: "Sorry I'm not a virgin; sorry I'm not a slut…" The world went mad for the new Christina – sorry, Xtina – and they even put up with her slightly creepy penchant for arseless chaps. But was she happy? Was she ballbags!

Now Xtina wants to convince us that she really loves early 20th century Black Music. Hence her upcoming Back to Basics opus, which she describes as "a throwback to…20s, 30s, and 40s-style jazz, blues and feel-good soul music, but with a modern twist!" As if that isn’t enough to whet our appetites, it features song titles like Candyman, Nasty Naughty Boy and Still Dirrty. Lead single Ain’t No Other Man combines blistering horn samples, old skool hip hop beats and that raise-the-dead voice to singular effect. Against all odds, it’s kinda brilliant. Somewhere in deepest, darkest Louisiana Britney’s sobbing jealous tears into her tub of Ben & Jerry’s.

[reviews by Nick Levine] 

McFly

Please Please
Universal

McFly’s cheeky chappie amiability has taken them a long way. Two chart-topping albums, eight top ten singles and a role in a Hollywood film isn’t bad going for a band that’s never come close to matching Busted’s charisma and ear for melody. New single Please Please namechecks the boys’ Just My Luck co-star Lindsay Lohan – well, you gotta keep that Did She Really Shag The Drummer rumour alive somehow, don’t you? – and wears its 50s rock ‘n’ roll influences on its sleeve. It’s as pert and perfectly-formed as Lohan’s buttocks but, unfortunately, as memorable as her role in Herbie Fully Loaded. Next time around, boys, why don’t you try writing something that doesn’t sound as though it belongs in a Happy Days prom scene?

And after the jump, more singles reviews from Rihanna, Gnarls Barkley, She Wants Revenge, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Performance, James Morrison and Gary Numan. You're welcome…

Rihanna
Unfaithful
Def Jam

Now here’s a nice surprise to rival "Jade Goody Wins Mastermind!" or "Alex Curran Denounces Capitalism!" Rihanna’s decided to follow the frothy electro-R&B strut of SOS - the one with the killer Soft Cell sample – with Unfaithful, a haunting piano-led ballad. The lyrics are as black as Nancy Dell’Olio’s well-coiffed mane (though perhaps not quite as black as Sven’s job prospects) and Rihanna plays the guilty adulteress ("I don’t wanna hurt him anymore… I don’t wanna be a murderer") with relish. All in all, a bit of a revelation.

Gnarls Barkley
Smiley Faces
Atlantic

For Gnarls Barkley, success has been a double-edged sword. Their debut single Crazy topped the charts for nine weeks but was swiftly deleted after its omnipresence began to overshadow not only parent album St Elsewhere, but also Gnarls Barkley itself. So you gotta feel for Smiley Faces, Cee-Lo and Dangermouse’s follow up single. It’s the golfer who steps up to the tee after Tiger Woods, the actress who arrives at the premiere after Nicole Kidman, the member of the Essex literati who publishes her life story the week after Jordan’s latest opus has been unleashed. This is a bit of a shame, because Smiley Faces’ Motown beat, gospel backing vocals and seventies organ chords add up to another soul-pop stormer.

She Wants Revenge
Tear You Apart
Geffen

Well well, this is dark. Good dark, though – it's not about dragons and goblins – instead, Tear You Apart by She Wants Revenge is, we think, a creepy tale about a stalker. We can't tell, since singer Justin Warfield intones the words like a nagging paranoid voice in your head you can't shake. Musically, too, Tear You Apart is all insistent beats, clanging one-note guitars and uncomfortable throbbing. It's not a tune you'd want to play on your own in a big dark house, or to put on a mixtape for a girl you've just met, but it's pretty impressive all the same. We hear Joaquin Phoenix has directed the video for this – and if it's good enough for Johnny Cash it's good enough for us.

Red Hot Chili Peppers
Tell Me Baby
Warner Bros

The Red Hot Chili Peppers have been proper, unit-shifting rock behemoths for 15 years now. Their current album Stadium Arcadium is a double-disc, twenty-eight track monster that’s the musical equivalent of shrugging and saying: "So, if we can’t get better, we might as well get BIGGER!" Tell Me Baby, its second single, is standard fare for California’s leading funk-rockers: there’s lots of frenetic slap bass; Anthony Kiedis spews out some nonsense about "Chitty chitty baby, when your nose is in the nitty gritty" and the verse sounds a bit like Can’t Stop from By The Way. But, hey, if you must retread old ground, you might as well sound like you’re having this much fun doing it.

Performance
Short Sharp Shock EP

There aren't many bands who we'd like to dislike more than Performance – they're the kind of ironic 1980s disco-pop outfit that you can imagine strutting down Brick Lane kitted out in ridiculous ironic mullets and ridiculous mirrored aviators listening to Neu! on their iPods. So imagine how much it kills us to say that the new Short Sharp Shock EP by Performance is actually pretty ace. From the frenzied yelp of the title track, to the Pet Shop Boys-y throb of I Want Out to It's Bad And It's Just Begun's SAW pounding to Architecture And Police's computosleaze, Performance rarely make a duff move. In fact, Performance remind us a lot of Tiger Tunes – and that's one of the biggest compliments we're able to give. The bastards.

James Morrison
You Give Me Something
Polydor

James Morrison is the latest British solo male sensation. You wanna know who his target audience is? Well, the fact that he recently supported Corinne Bailey-Rae on her UK tour tells you everything you need to know, really. Debut single You Give Me Something certainly shows off his soulful pipes, and we’re all in favour of using Bacharachian horns to add a nice touch of class. But unfortunately its tasteful drum loop, mellow piano chords and cringe-inducingly romantic lyrics – "I never thought that I’d love someone; that was someone else’s dream" - make it archetypal bubble bath music. Watch out Bluntie, there’s a new troubadour in town.

Gary Numan
In A Dark Place
Mortal

It’s quite comforting to know that Gary Numan can release a single in 2006. He spent most of the nineties (and most of the eighties, for that matter) in a state of terminal unhipness, but thanks to kudos from Marilyn Manson and Dave Grohl – not to mention samples in recent(ish) Sugababes and Basement Jaxx smashes – he’s now revered as some kind of Electropop Institution. In A Dark Place careers from minimal verses built on industrial beats to widescreen, synth-drenched choruses and showcases gloriously overwrought lyrics like "So I beg God for salvation, for an angel". A nice single for what our nan likes to call "the gothics".

[reviews by Nick Levine] 

Rogue Traders
Voodoo Child
BMG

You know Izzy from Neighbours, right? The tart without a heart who split up Ramsay Street’s golden couple Karl and Susan? Well, even if you don’t, you’ve doubtless spotted her killer cleavage while flicking over from a dull segment about war postcards on Richard and Judy. Anyway, the actress who plays this legendary bitch – Natalie Bassingthwaighte, we believe they call her – is now fronting Aussie electro-rock band Rogue Traders. Trivia fans might like to know they’ve just scored a triple platinum album over in Strewth-Mate-Put-Some-More-Shrimps-On-The-Barbie-Land. Voodoo Child is a dirty great slab of dance-rock, built around a re-recorded riff from Elvis Costello’s Pump It Up, and properly sold by a persuasively hammy vocal from Bassingthwaighte. Like one of those hand-held fans you get in Woolies, it’s cheap, disposable and absolutely essential this summer.

More singles reviews after the jump, you lucky bleeders, from Jim Noir, Shayne Ward, Shack, Webb Sisters, Mogwai, Tapes n' Tapes, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah and Dirty Pretty Things…

Jim Noir

Eanie Meany
My Dad

Isn’t it a bit late for a football single? After all, it’s been over a week since England waved goodbye to World Cup glory, Cristiano Ronaldo waved goodbye to a hatemail-free life and bar owners in the Baden-Baden area waved goodbye to the goooood times. At least Jim Noir’s Eanie Meany – “If you don’t give my football back, I’m gonna get my dad on you” – isn’t some kind of chest-thumping anthem. It’s actually a psychedelia-tinged slice of acoustic pop, not a million miles away from Badly Drawn Boy, and a bit too humble to be used on an Adidas ad. The ‘spray’s advice? Savour those melancholy guitar chords while sobbing into your pint.

Shayne Ward

Stand By Me
BMG

Once upon a time there was a handsome young man who won the nation’s hearts on a TV talent show. His first single was a smash – he’d had a nice lot of exposure, after all – and his first album sold very nicely indeed, thank you very much. Two years later he’d disappeared. Er… what’s that… wrong guy? Oops! But that’s the thing about the new Shayne Ward single, it sounds just like Gareth Gates circa 2002. It’s a power ballad that nicks its falsetto swoop from Unchained Melody and its tune from R Kelly’s If I Could Turn Back The Hands Of Time. What’s more, a choir comes in at the end to make things a bit soaring in a Like A Prayer-esque fashion. Needless to say, it’s nowhere near as good as any of those songs. Nope, not even the R. Kelly one. Shayney needs to get hold of Jodie Marsh’s number, and sharpish.  

Shack

Cup of Tea
Sour Mash

From one of the albums of the year so far, The Corner Of Miles And Gil by Shack, comes one of the best songs from it. Words won't do Cup Of Tea justice – it's a song by professional cosmic Scousers produced by one of Space about a man drinking a cup of tea laced with LSD and going on a mystical journey – but it's so much better than that wishy-washy description would have you believe. The verse melody skips and splashes playfully around before the chorus arrives and explodes into a million different directions at once. It's classic, satisfying, majestic stuff that your milkman would be whistling by the end of the week – if you still had a milkman, that is.

Webb Sisters

I Still Hear It
Universal

Have you ever woken up and thought, “Ooh, I really fancy listening to some Wilson Phillips today”? Nah, we haven’t either, but if it ever happens we’d gladly make do with the debut single from the Webb Sisters. I Still Hear It’s Californian soft rock evokes Rumours-era Fleetwood Mac - but with Bangles-esque harmonies – and it’s easy to see why it’s been squatting on the Radio 2 playlist like Daryl Hannah protecting an urban garden for the last few weeks. Now, if only we had a SUV and an endless stretch of highway in front of us…

Mogwai

Travel is Dangerous EP
PIAS

Fresh from soundtracking an arthouse film about tired old headbutty Frenchman Zinedine Zindane and releasing their frightening well-acclaimed Mr Beast album, Mogwai are back with this, the album track Travel Is Dangerous – basically Radiohead doing My Bloody Valentine quite well – backed by a handful of remixes and live tracks. Error's remix of Auto Rock is a fantastic slice of electro glitch pop that you'll no doubt hear on several TV shows about architecture before the year is out, while the Acid Casuals remix of Friend Of The Night is so ornamental sounding we're scared to listen to it too hard in case we break it. Throw in a couple of apocalyptic live tracks and you're in post-rock heaven, buddy.

Tapes ‘n Tapes

Insistor
Xl Recordings

Minneapolis’ Tapes ‘n Tapes are pushing all the right buttons in indieland at the moment. They’re enjoying favourable comparisons to The Pixies, nailed an acclaimed performance at SXSW* and now their debut album’s getting what labels feel obliged to call a “high priority re-release”. Insistor is a blistering alt-rock romp, with some nice country undertones and some surprisingly dark lyrics (“My cold razor’s edge will meet you in the light”). It gallops along like Red Rum in the Grand National of 1977, but the overall effect is a bit too Tarantino soundtrack to be properly write-it-on-your-pencil case loveable.

*an annual music festival in Austin, Texas that, in our eyes, never quite manages to shake off its underlying wankiness

Clap Your Hands Say Yeah

The Skin Of My Yellow Country Teeth
Wichita

To be honest, we're still a little bit bummed out that Arctic Monkeys stole Clap Your Hands Say Yeah's 'very very famous on the Internet first' crown last year – whenever we hear that singer doing an impression of the boy out of Kes singing songs about looking good on dancefloors, we always imagine how great it'd be if Clap Your Hands Say Yeah were in their place. Just to rub salt into our imaginary wounds, The Skin Of My Yellow Country Teeth is a genius little song, sounding a bit like New Order as sung by a man being scared by a very large dog. For breathless old-fashioned pop larks, this has to be the tune for you. What do you mean you've already got the album? Oh well done you.

Dirty Pretty Things

Deadwood
Vertigo

That Carl Barat, he’s such a mumbler. He mumbles in interviews – the ‘spray’s had the misfortune of transcribing one of his chuntering monologues – and he mumbled in the Libertines. Now he’s mumbling in Dirty Pretty Things. Deadwood, the band’s second single, isn’t as catchy as their top five smash Bang Bang You’re Dead, but it’s still a rambling, rollicking rock ‘n’ roll nugget. A job well done, for sure, but we reckon Barat might well learn something from the patron saint of over-enunciation; and he’s got no excuses: she’s on Channel 4 every night at the moment.

[reviews by Nick Levine]