Music

As a female rapper, it’s Lil’ Kim’s civic duty to get in as much trouble as humanly possibly, but we don’t get the feeling she’s hungry for it any more.

Back in the old days Lil’ Kim could usually be relied on to cause a ruckus by lying about shootings and getting sent to jail for it or whatnot but, now that she’s a little bit older, Lil’ Kim seems to have taken her eye off the balls. Sure, Lil’ Kim still gets in trouble, but only for not delivering albums she’s been paid to make.

As such, Lil’ Kim is being sued by her record label. Although a little lawsuit might not seem like much, it’s actually an indication of something far far worse than any of us could have ever imagined - there are a handful of people on earth who actually want to hear a new Lil’ Kim album. We’re scared. Hold us.

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We’d be honoured to have John McCain use any of of our songs - like Look At My Stubby Little Arms or Eghhh (EGHHH) - in his election campaign.

But sadly John McCain isn’t having any of it. Instead, he’d rather use My Hero by Foo Fighters which - while probably a better election song that Eghhh (EGHHH) because it doesn’t have a seven-minute death-jazz intermission played on a contraceptive diaphragm - has annoyed Foo Fighters no end.

John McCain’s use of My Hero has enraged Foo Fighters so much that they’ve launched a furious rock n roll riposte - they’ve written a really bloody strongly worded letter about it. In fact, Foo Fighters have really laid the law down - if John McCain plays My Hero one more time, they’re going to call the flipping council about it or something. Just you watch them!

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Have you ever noticed how famous musicians who join new bands often fail to maintain the level of notoriety they managed with their old band?

No one ever talks of McCartney in Wings as they did when he was a Beatle, whilst Doherty and Barat have struggled to maintain the cult status they boasted as Libertines. However, there is one around the corner who may change that trend.

Coz Kerrigan, who came to fame as the drummer of Larrikin Love, is now looking for greater success in new outfit Klezma Villanova, but he still worries about that tag following him.

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As we all know, there’s nothing that strongly-religious wilderness-dwelling female politicians like more than having a 50-year-old vajuju repeatedly into their faces.

And, as such, we’re fully expecting Republican vice presidential candidate Sarah Palin to be inconsolable now that Madonna has decided to ban her from her concerts. According to reports, Madonna told her New Jersey audience on Saturday that Sarah Palin wasn’t welcome at any of her shows.

But Sarah Palin isn’t called Sarah Barracuda for nothing, and so she’s gone on the counter-attack. Madonna doesn’t want to see Sarah Palin at any of her concerts? Fine - but if we were Madonna we wouldn’t be expecting an invitation for Sarah Palin’s next ’shoot a wolf from a helicopter and saw off its leg for the bounty’ party. Your loss, Madonna. Your loss.

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Apparently, in this modern age we live in, art isn’t just a picture on a wall which some poor bastard has spent years carefully colouring in.

Oh no, these days you can say that burning a shopping trolley demonstrates excess anger and throwing pool balls at walls is a metaphor for breaking boundaries – not for pissing off people. And now Australian artist Natascha Stellmach is using the remains of Kurt Cobain to investigate suicide and the power of desecration.

Kurt Cobain did the exact same thing with a shotgun.

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Are you a fan of tedious, formless, mostly improvised songs that go on for three hours longer than the point of normal human endurance?

You are? Well have we got some good news for you! Phish - the defunct jam-band predominantly famous for a) having some ice cream named after it and b) totally soundtracking that epic hacky sack marathon you and your buddies had in your parent’s backyard one afternoon back when you were 28 - are reuniting.

Phish have announced three special comeback dates in Virginia for next March, their first since disbanding in 2004. We’ll definitely be attending the Phish reunion shows - it’s been too long since we last caught beard nits off a hippy after stumbling into the middle of a drearily self-satisfied drum circle in the carpark of an old WWF arena.

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Remember a while ago when Paris Hilton decided to become a singer and released that album and it sold 500 million copies and made Paris Hilton a megastar?

Yeah, us too. That was great. We especially liked it when the government of Uganda became so obsessed with the Paris Hilton album that it scrapped its own national anthem in favour of Stars Are Blind, Nothing In This World and Screwed played all the way through six times each.

Oh, wait, no, none of that happened, did it? That’s because the Paris Hilton album was an abject failure that turned Paris into an international laughing stock. Still, at least Paris Hilton managed to scrape together her remaining credibility afterwards, never to return to that debac… what? Paris Hilton is releasing another song? And she’s named it after her new TV show? Oh. Good.

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Quick! Stop what you’re doing. If you thought the biggest announcement of the year was that time travelling thing that’d tell us the secrets of the universe, you’re wrong!

We’ve got something much more important to tell you, something that will cause the world’s population to sigh in unison.

It’s James Blunt. He might write all sorts of songs that get used in chick flicks, love albums and as a weapon to torture terror suspects, but this could soon stop. You see, James Blunt has promised to sew his mouth shut for the right amount of money. Or never step foot in a recording studio again, at least.

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With plenty of high profile hits and even a divorce behind him, Paul McCartney can literally do anything he wants.

Let’s say he wanted to swing in through your living room window dressed as an octopus. Nobody would call him a mentalist. It’s because he’s flipping Paul McCartney from The Beatles. You have to be polite to him; he’s not a Sir for nothing.

It’s well known that when The Beatles were locked away in a Liverpool studio many moons ago, they were under the influence of the mindbending drug LSD. So will Paul decide to swallow a couple of ecstasy pills so he can make more druggie inspired music? Who knows, but we expect him to don bright neon clothing and dance around like a twat with a couple of glowsticks. You see, he’s going to bring the party to YOU with an album full of electronic treats.

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The Super Bowl halftime show is always a big draw, not least because there’s a fleeting chance you’ll see partial boob.

And next year’s Super Bowl will be even more special than most, because if you see anyone’s accidentally-exposed barely-covered breast at all, it’ll be Bruce Springsteen’s. Bruce Springsteen is playing the Super Bowl! Finally! Some good old-fashioned, all-American heartfelt stadium rock is coming to the Super Bowl at last!

At least that’s what the Super Bowl organisers must be hoping. There’s still every chance that Bruce Springsteen will want to play some of his newer songs at the Super Bowl, in which case 148 million Americans are in for six minutes of an old man mumbling about putting his penis up an old prostitute’s bum. Either way - woo.

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Britney Spears is worse than we thought - far from making a full recovery, she’s actually regressed to the point where she can only robotically babble vowel sounds.

It’s true - Britney Spears’ new single got its official radio debut today, and she basically only does two things in it. First, Britney Spears just goes “Oh oh ooh ooh ah-ah-ah” over and over again like C-3PO getting a stinging nettle handjob, and secondly she says the word ‘womanizer’ 41 times in a row. We’ve forgotten what the song’s called.

So is Womanizer by Britney Spears going to be another hit? It had better be - we’ve always said that what Britney Spears is to be violently thrust into the spotlight a bit more.

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Ha! Eat that, terrorists! It’s 2-0 to Paul McCartney - first for that godawful Freedom song he did and secondly for not getting blown up last night.

Despite the all the threats against his life, Paul McCartney and his 5,000 bodyguards finally played their long-awaited peace concert in Israel last night, with no disruption whatsoever from fanatical snipers or would-be suicide bombers or whatnot. Paul McCartney lives to fight another day!

Of course, Paul McCartney’s masterstroke was to address both sides of the Middle East conflict in their own language right at the start of the concert. First McCartney opened with “Shalom, Tel Aviv, shana tova, ahlan!” giving the crowd the traditional Hebrew greeting ahead of Monday’s Rosh Hashanah celebrations. Then he added “Ramadan kareem” which, as we all know, is Arabic for “Not the face! Not the face!”

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