Accessory to musical murder U2 guitarist The Edge has been told that his proposed property development would be one of the “worst” things to happen to California in terms of environmental devastation.

The guitarist, famous for making a noise which is primarily effects with a thin, marmalade-like scraping of musical ability, had applied for permission to build a group of mansions near Malibu; the plush hangout of the rich and famous… and U2.

The friend of Bono (the guy who wears the glasses and talks too much)- whose real name is Audley Hedgerow – had made a proposal to construct five mansions overlooking Malibu rejected by the California Coastal Commission. Despite making reassurances that the venture would be environmentally-friendly, The Edge’s plans were rejected out of hand due to its impact on the ecosystem in the area.

After turning down the scheme by a vote of 8-4, the commission’s executive director Peter Douglas said:

“In 38 years of this commission’s existence, this is one of the three worst projects that I’ve seen in terms of environmental devastation. It’s a contradiction in terms — you can’t be serious about being an environmentalist and pick this location.”

The commission cited the effects on habitat, land formation, scenic views and water quality as their reason for refusing the project. In spite of this, The Edge is not a massive hypocrite. We must bear that in mind. We must remember that this is a man who is in an awful rock band with noted humanitarian and all-round irritant Bono. How could he possibly be a hypocritical idiot with more focus on the contents of his wallet (which is carried around Malibu on the back of a Sherpa) than the potential impact on the environment? Remember? Bono!

Despite numerous recommendations from various agencies recommending that the project be rejected out of hand, the Coastal Commission admit that they expect the matter to end up in the courts. It’s America. No-one’s litigious in America, so the shock that some Irishman with a collection of guitars- that if laid out in a line would stretch to the moon- might appeal the decision has come as a massive shock to the Californian press.

The Edge – was has fought since 2006 to receive permits for the proposal – had hired prominent lobbyists and promoted the development as environmentally-friendly in a bid to earn approval using the ill-gotten gains of selling millions of albums to idiots with no taste.

Last year, Malibu Mayor Pro Tem Jefferson Wagner lambasted the proposals, insisting the development would be out of character for the area. He said:

“This is not what Malibu is about. These kind of places are ego run riot.”

Yeah… that’s completely unlike Malibu.

Bono is thought to have suggested that The Edge build a wind farm out at sea and live in the turbine of one of the giant structures, only venturing out to harvest the organic cress that sustains his ‘creative energy’ and, of course, to join U2 on one of their ceaseless, over-priced stadium tours which they fly to in Earth murdering jumbo jets fuelled by Ethiopians woe.

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The organisers of Hard Rock Calling, that sort of festival like thing that happens in Hyde Park every summer that isn’t the O2 Wireless festival, have decided that former Fall Out Boy bassist and pioneer of the musical equivalent of object dá, Pete Wentz, is a suitable choice for a battle of the bands judge.

Right? RIGHT?

If you’re lucky enough to have forgotten the mid noughties, here’s a crash course in all things Pete Wentz:

• He was in an emo band called Fall Out Boy who got big on the back of the success of auditory assassins My Chemical Romance.
• He had/has a stupid fringe and a fondness for guyliner.
• He was once caught doing an Ashley Cole after a fan posted a picture of his tattooed tallywhacker on the internet and…
• He’s married to Ashlee Simpson, a woman so pathetic she continues to live in the shadow of America’s answer to Kerry Katona, her older sister Jessica Simpson.

That’s right, at one point in time, Pete Wentz was related by marriage to Nick Lachey.

ROCKNFUGGINROLL!

The heats Wentz will be judging are taking place in Hard Rock Cafes all over the world, because being alternative and sticking it to the man is like totally all about being a shameless corporate whore nowadays, duh!

The budding bands that Wentz will cast his three eyes over are battling it out to see who gets to take to the stage in Hyde Park, in front of literally some people, and belt out their best Aerosmith covers as bottles of piss whip past their heads and rain pours down on them from the cold, grey London skies.

We here at hecklerspray aren’t really ones for nurturing talent, we prefer to call people names and giggle amongst ourselves, but even so we can’t honestly see what would make anyone desperate enough to have Pete Wentz, a man so incredibly annoying and pointless that even Bono thinks it’s a bit much, judge their musical ability. Unless they’re still about 12 years old and think that Wentz is OMG LIKE SO TOTALLY BUFF YEH!

Anyway, congratulations Hard Rock Calling, whatever credibility you had left after changing your name to that of an overpriced theme restaurant has just evaporated.

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The best thing about being super-rich is that, rather than let governments decide how to spend your tax, you can just keep hold of it, then donate some to a groovy cause, whilst getting baskets of praise and verbal fellatio for making a really exciting thing happen.

Imagine a world where we could all do that! We would look dead nice from giving money to AIDS kids, earthquake orphans and publicity-hungry slag animals. Like polar bears. The furry whores.

We wouldn’t have to worry about our money helping to provide rehabilitation for murderers and young offenders.

A single mum needs a house to live in because she keeps shitting out the next generation of ASBO collectors? Let me just ring my publicist and see if we can help. He says it’s definitely on if the babies are Chinese, otherwise he can arrange for her to sell her story to The Sun.

She can earn a few bob if she doesn’t mind being vilified in a full-page special about how much she’s costing the taxpayer. Except she’s not! Because we’re not paying tax anymore! We’re philanthropists and society’s been privatised! So, everyone’s a winner!

Paying tax is a moral duty and no-one ever thanks you for doing your duty, they thank you for presents! That’s why absent dads who turn up drunk every two years clutching an Optimus Prime and a mountain bike are the best kinds of father to have!

In entirely unrelated news, we’d just like to say thanks a bunch to U2 for giving 5 million Euros to expand a pilot scheme across Ireland so that thousands of youngsters can learn to play a musical instrument. The scheme will give an estimated 10,000 youngsters the opportunity to play music for a living or even just to open their eyes to the beauty of creating.

This is all due to their generosity and a further 2 million Euros from something called the Ireland Funds. Don’t worry about them though, they didn’t even go through a cowboy-hat phase in the late-eighties so they have nothing to teach us.

And don’t be churlish about this news – they don’t have to give you or your children anything, and the only reason they have to publicise it is to shut all those cynics up anyway. So hecklerspray says good on yer, U2!

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Even though Bob Geldof and Bono may go on with themselves like they have single handedly solved the problem of Africa (that’d be famine and debt, rather than them generally not liking the whole continent), the fact remains that there are still huge problems out there.

Of course, in the Western world, we have our own problems too. Slow internet connections, updates on our computers, a lack of signal for our mobile phones and, of course, the fact that we’re all hugely obese and all joining the type 2 diabetes club.

However, amongst these two main problems is a solution. You can donate your fat to the malnourished people of Africa, thereby saving their lives and making us look beautiful and thin. And really, really smug.

You don’t have to wait for ageing Irish rockstars to be the saviour of entire continents. You can be the person to help save lives without donating a single penny.

With the help of the Klaxon Institute, you can look good and feel better.

They’ve pioneered a new way to help flabby folk like us do good with revolutionary reverse liposuction techniques. Basically, they can take the excess fatty tissue from you – the patient – and inject it into the bodies of starving people in the third world.

This means they are able to live off it for months at a time without having to struggle to feed themselves. This documentary footage, as shot by the Klaxon group themselves, shows the immense benefits of their work. To find out more about this process, visit www.klaxoninstitute.com

Poor old Bono – he can end poverty, but he can’t jig about in front of some muddy idiots for an hour.

It’s Bono’s back. It’s not very well. Everyone had been really excited about seeing U2‘s headlining set at Glastonbury – because if you’re going to spend a weekend developing trench foot surrounded by thousands of hat-wearing bastards and godawful Legal High salesmen in a massive field in the middle of nowhere in a non-stop apocalyptic rainstorm, you may as well go all out and make sure that you have a really crap time – but now Bono has hurt his back and it’s never going to happen.

Incidentally, Bono is said to be heartbroken about cancelling Glastonbury. So that’s his back and his heart buggered up. Let’s go for legs next, please. Legs or nose. Either’s fine.

It’s not really a surprise that Bono has hurt his back – he’s spent so many years running around onstage and shouting and shadowboxing to himself to compensate for the fact that he’s only about four inches tall that it was bound to give out at some point. But for it to happen right before U2′s highly-anticipated Glastonbury headline set is just bad luck.

But that’s just how it goes sometimes – after injuring himself during a tour rehearsal, Bono has undergone spinal surgery and been told to rest up for two months. The news is bound to disappoint fans who only bought Glastonbury tickets in order to see U2. That’s assuming that those people still have the mental ability to feel disappointment  – the fact that they wanted to see U2 perform live despite their rubbish last album would suggest otherwise.

But anyway, they won’t be as disappointed as Bono, who told The Sun:

“I’m heartbroken. We wanted to do something special. We even wrote a new song for the festival.”

It’s very sad news – and a timely reminder that even gods can be mortal sometimes. Sorry, that was a typo – we meant that it was a timely reminder that even men with crippling god complexes can be mortal sometimes. Yes, that’s better.

But now speculation is rife over who will now perform U2′s headling Glastonbury set – after all, replacing one of the biggest bands in the world will be almost impossible. So far it’s been claimed that Michael Eavis could persuade Led Zeppelin to reform, while The Rolling Stones are also a possibility because – thanks to the Exile On Main Street reissue – they’re also more relevant than they’ve been in decades. So with that in mind, it seems fairly obvious that U2′s replacement will actually be Jamie Cullum. Or N-Dubz. Mark our words.

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Irish stereotypes: They will have us all believing that if our paddy friends aren’t pickling themselves in alcohol, they are furiously thrusting their fists in the general area of any indistinct bystander’s face.

Of course, it’s all complete hogwash. The only Irish people we know are singers, and they generally make us drink excessively and punch ourselves in the face.

But if Irish stereotypes are your thing, then you will be right at home in Boondock Saints II: All Saints Day. We’ve got a family of killers (but they do it for good reasons), led by (the very Scottish) Billy Connolly, who travel back to Boston on a revenge trip of inglorious B-movie violence and witless storytelling.

It’s a sequel to the 1999 cult movie Boondock Saints, and if you’re unfamiliar with that film (which, you probably are) then during the first five minutes, you’ll instantly start to wonder what all the fuss is about.

In fact, the opening five minutes are just a hodgepodge of bad editing and fantastically absurd beards (and we’re not talking about Connolly). It takes about two minutes for the motivation to be setup for the MacManus brothers to forget their vows of peace, tool up and start planning their bloody revenge. It’s fairly admirable for writer/director Troy Duffy to dispel of such things as fundamental as plot, choosing to get right down to the gratuitous violence.

The film manages to get to its feet eventually after a stumbling, unsure start, helped, no less, by the appearance of Clifton Collins Jnr’s, Romeo, who proves to be an excellent injection of mad-as-a-bat energy and humour. He actually remains a highlight throughout the film, putting some much needed acting chops into a fairly mixed-bag cast.

As the film carries on between action scenes, it becomes noticeable that many of the films scenes (mainly action) are badly conceived. Often, they unfold in flashback or in some incoherent manner, with another cast member added in as a narrator walking through the surroundings. It stands as a baffling narrative device, taking away much of the blast.

It’s not just the action that underwhelms; some of the screenplay really lacks edge, aiming for Tarantino and making its mark several notches below. Julie Benz’s stoic FBI agent is the biggest victim of some truly turgid dialogue, and the camera’s obsession with filming her in slow motion quickly grows overtly pornographic.

But aside from these inconsistencies, it can be a fairly entertaining piece of fluff to past the time. Somewhere between Segal DTV fodder and a testosterone filled Stallone rampage. Just siphoned through some whiskey and extracted from Bono’s bowels after he has been riddled with bullets.

‘Spray Rating: 2/5

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Festivals are brilliant. Standing in fields, listening to music out of ropey speakers, complaining about being covered in mud and spending £10 on organic hemp burgers. Perfect.

What you want for your money is a magical experience where you get to enjoy bands you like, discover weird stuff like Brazilians who compose songs off radiators and occasionally get off your face on booze. Glastonbury 2010 should theoretically be one of the best festivals of all time. Why? Because it’s the 40th anniversary of the festival. Shame it’s going to be ruined by U2.

Well we say, U2. We mean Bono.

In the olden days, before people had mobile phones, U2 actually made music. Actually, to be fair they still do this. But back in times where the world was in black and white, they were considered to be good. The success of the band subsequently created an egotistical monster in the form of Bono. Sometimes the self-obsessed twat can’t get through doors as his own opinion inflates him that much. And now they’re playing Glastonbury.

When U2 hit the pyramid stage at Glastonbury, we can guarantee a few things. Firstly, nobody under the age of 30 will be there to see them. Nobody young trendy will want to be seen anywhere near them. U2 make music for dads to blast out of their cars while onlookers point and snigger. They’ll either be left performing to bemused security staff or farm animals that have been drafted in to make up the numbers.

But wait – this could actually be a warped blessing in disguise. Remember that Bono personally knows half the world’s population. Every time there’s a crisis or photo opportunity, you’ll see the Irishman there. He knows which world leaders, clergymen and other musicians to be seen with. Perhaps he’s cooking up something special gor Glastonbury. Festival founder Michael Eavis backs our wild theory up by telling The Guardian:

“The 26-year-old rumour has finally come true. At last, the biggest band in the world are going to play the best festival in the world,” he said. “Nothing could be better for our 40th anniversary party.”

Using his wealth of celebrity mates, Bono could make the Glastonbury gig a special one-off show that’ll blow everyone else out the water. Think about it. The Catholic church has gotten all pissy about Madonna using crosses in her shows before. So imagine the look on everyone’s face when The Pope emerges from a burning cross before breaking in to a frenzied guitar solo with The Edge. It’ll be OK if God’s best mate actually does it. The Guardian again reports:

“Eavis had promised something special for Glastonbury’s 40th anniversary, and in booking a band who have been rumoured to headline every year since the mid-1980s, he has not disappointed. The ebullient 74-year-old said the news had been a long time coming.”

Ballsacks, we’re so pumped up about this that we forgot there aren’t any tickets left for Glastonbury 2010. Either a kind PR company will let us go and experience the spectacle, or it’ll be the borefest that most people believe it’ll be. A two-hour lecture from Bono about how we should have donated the ticket money to starving Africans or drowning penguins. Fun.

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Look at the picture. Really look at it, drink it in. Go on, keep looking.

Look at Bono singing his heart out, look at Chris Martin putting effort into his performance. Jesus, look at Gary Barlow, he’s brought along some water. And who’s that on the right? It’s Brandon Flowers. He’s a Mormon or something. Look at him. Keep looking at him. Now look at all of them. Keep looking. It’s amazing. Now look away. Now look back. Now away. And back. Away. Back. Away. Back. Away. Back. Away. Away. Ha! Gotcha!

Now be sick.

Of course, after looking at the picture, you need to start questioning what it’s all about. Who could coordinate such a phenomenal collaboration? And, more the point, why? What’s wrong with them? Are they Osama Bin Laden?

Now, we’re not in the habit of sneering at things, but Jesus Christ, look at them! Four awful, awful human beings. We’re one Sting away from staring directly into the eyes of Satan. With that in mind, we decided to play a game we’ve christened ‘The One Bullet Conundrum’. Which of these guys would get it?

Chris Martin

Chris’ number one problem is that he’s a really big Coldplay fan. He loves them, he loves their music, at their gigs he’s always jumping up and down at the front, singing along with all the words. He also dresses like a total cock. The only thing saving Chris from a certain bullet is that there’s someone on stage who’s even more self-important and impossible to like. Chris, you got lucky this time.

Gary Barlow

Gary, for all his faults, seems alright. He’s a bit like an uncle who pops around over Christmas, tells you his boring stories, cracks a stupid joke about stuffing, and then leaves. The minute he disappears from your house, you forget him forever. He’s like a fart that doesn’t smell. An anodyne glass of water of a man, the bullet would probably miss him, because it’s like he’s not really there.

Brandon Flowers

Lots of people absolutely adore The Killers. These are the same people who think that Coldplay are magnificent, that U2 are GODS, and that Keane are this close to making their Joshua Tree. You know them, you might even be friends with them. But you’re not really friends with them are you? Secretly, you hate them, with their never-changing haircuts, and flat-pack girlfriends. They own a Faithless CD, for Christ’s sake. But, lucky for Brandon, this bullet doesn’t have his name on it…

Bono

… and that’s because Bono is there. Big bloody Bono, with his stupid whispering singing voice, and his breakfasts with people who are far more important than him. Bloody Bono. In fairness, the bullet never had a choice.

This was a guest blog by Josh Burt of Interestment. Hooray for bloody him, we say.

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This is a public service announcement. U2 are about to tour their new album. Please seek shelter immediately, and may God have mercy on our souls.

In news which people who like music are describing as “Oh God, really? That’s just awful, is there any way we can stop this? A petition or something? Anything?”, U2 have announced the details of their upcoming tour, during which they are expected to play U2 music while singing U2 lyrics. If that sounds like your cup of tea, then we can only assume you like drinking tea made from poison ivy leaves, with skunk sperm instead of milk and cat dander instead of sugar.

U2 are terrible, is what we’re saying.

Made your summer holiday plans yet? If not, you might want to wait a day or two, because U2 are about to give advance warning of where they will be, and when, over the next eighteen months. And if there’s one thing worse than being in a city full of French people, it’s being in that city while knowing that at any moment Bono‘s limousine might go speeding past, and that if the windows aren’t tinted enough you may catch a glimpse of his wizened face looking at you with undisguised disgust, as though you were punching a kitten.

Believe us, we’ve been there. And we had to take our eyeballs out and boil them in bleach for an hour to get rid of the image.

It’s been a funny start to the year for U2 news, with the leaking of their new album, their involvement in a musical about Spiderman and their decision to make a reggae album. We suspect they may be going a little bit crazy, actually; there can be no other explanation for this bucketload of horsewank from The Edge, as told to MSNBC:

“There’s such a special thing that goes on between the band and the audience at a U2 show, and we never get tired of that. It’s like a kind of semireligious experience for the band, and I think for the audience, too.”

Yes, U2 believe that watching some middle-aged pubrockers jump out of a giant lemon and then nonce around on stage for a couple of hours is on a par with being overcome by the awesome majesty and supreme love of God. We would disagree, and suggest that it is in fact on the same level as having a cheese grater rubbed across your brain while the Miami Dolphins punting team holds a practice session with your testicles.

But The Edge goes on:

“For a lot of people it’s the soundtrack of their lives.”

There are people for whom U2 is their life’s soundtrack? If that were us, we’d be sticking little twigs down our ears, trying to pull our eardrums out. But hey, whatever floats your boat.

Although if we were on a sinking boat and were told that, oddly, the only way to stop ourselves from drowning was to invite U2 on board, we’d be slashing the lifejackets with a stanley knife, grabbing hold of anything heavier than water and leaping over the side.

U2 are rubbish, do you see?

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The world is split into two: those who don’t think U2 experiment enough, and those who have working brains.

If you’re in the second group, start digging your bunker now. It’s been reported that U2 aren’t content to limit their experimentalism to simply releasing grammatically-incorrect concept albums about footwear – they’re bringing out a reggae album soon, too.

A terrible idea, we know, but it’ll be worth it when U2 tour. You don’t see 50-year-old Irish midgets follow up impassioned IRA songs by saying “This next song’s called Demma Bad Bwoi Duppy Man Ting (Irie Pussyclot Ting),” too often, do you?

Look, we started this short-hair Bono thing for a bit of fun – we said that when Bono’s got long hair U2 release best-selling anthems about the enduring hope at the core of the human condition, but when he’s got short hair they release crap that sounds like it was stolen from an EMF B-side – but it’s becoming clear that the whole thing’s got beyond a joke now.

The first sign was U2′s Get On Your Boots single, in that it sounds like a novelty grunge cover of We Didn’t Start The Fire and that Bono’s look for its promotion seems to be based on Johnny Vegas‘ dad. And then we found out that the U2 Spider-Man musical wasn’t the cruel wind-up that we suspected it to be.

But now? Now we’ve really entered the world of nightmares. Previously the worst of U2′s zany excesses involved emerging onto stages through giant glittery lemons, but now they’ve shot so far past it that it’s unreal – U2 have recorded a reggae album. And, get this, they’re actually going to release it. News Of The World reports:

It’s a Beautiful Day when I can dish out the biggest goss from inside the U2 camp – the boys have secretly recorded a brand new reggae/dub album. The supergroup recorded the album in secret during the sessions for cracking new disc, No Line On The Horizon, and they’ll unleash it onto the world at the start of next year.

You know what this means. It means that U2 have run out of ideas to such an alarming extent that they’ve now been reduced to ripping off Paris Hilton. What an upsetting state of affairs.

But, come on now, let’s not make this news make us too depressed, shall we? Dwell on the thought of Bono poncing around a stage in a dreadlocked wig singing about Babylon and Haile Selassie and correct dutchie-passing etiquette in a borderline racist Desmond’s accent for too long and you’ll probably end up hurling yourself under the nearest train.

Because there are positives to this as well, you know. For instance, since dub reggae isn’t really known for its lyrics, there’s a pretty good chance that the new U2 album won’t feature Bono prattling on about his shimmering cities of uplifting emotions like a weird Gollumy mid-life crisis motivational speaker too much.

And, best of all, once U2 have released this album people can start to go back to not liking them very much again. And thus the world restores its balance.

Read more:

U2′s Secret New Album – News Of The World

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You heard it once and thought it was a good joke; you heard it again and thought it was a bad joke, and now it’s true.

The U2 Spider-Man musical is happening. Despite being the weirdest thing ever been announced, the Spider-Man Broadway musical – with music by U2′s Bono and The Edge – will open in New York next January.

That’s right – the Spider-Man musical is by Bono and The Edge. But don’t worry about the other two – Adam Clayton and Larry Mullen Jr will be debuting their new Condorman musical next February outside the Basingstoke branch of Clinton’s Cards. At 4am. Drunk.

Dear God, this new U2 album is going to be worse than anyone could have possibly imagined. As we’ve already stated, No Line On The Horizon is a short-hair Bono album – which means there are less uplifting songs about shimmering cities and more woeful dirges that sound like We Didn’t Start The Fire but are exclusively about footwear. But this short-hair Bononess goes even deeper.

It also extends to members of U2 writing songs about superheroes. The last time U2 did this, they wrote Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me for that cacky Val Kilmer Batman film and it was horrible. And now they’re at it again, this time putting together an entire Broadway musical based on Spider-Man.

This isn’t news in itself – we reported on the U2 Spider-Man musical back in 2007 – but what is news is that a) the thing actually exists and wasn’t just a cruel prank to drive the weak-minded to the brink of suicide and b) it’s going to open on Broadway in less than a year. Really. Newsday reports:

With new music and lyrics by Bono and The Edge, and direction by Julie Taymor (“The Lion King”), “Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark” will begin previews Jan. 16. (The subtitle is the name of one of the show’s songs.) Members of the creative team include choreographer Daniel Ezralow, set designer George Tsypin (“The Little Mermaid”) and costume designer Eiko Ishioka (opening ceremonies for the Beijing Olympics).

Wow, this Spider-Man musical is going to be spectacular. We don’t know about you, but the costumes were the best bit of the Beijing Olympic opening ceremony. Not the million drummers drumming in perfect synchronicity. Not the bit where the man ran around the side of the stadium with a flaming torch. Not the bit with the magical floating dust that formed a giant version of the Olympic rings. The costumes. If we could remember what they looked like, we’re sure they’d be ace.

Anyway, the Spider-Man musical is going to be one of the most expensive in history, so there’s a chance it’ll be a major success and go on to be U2′s enduring legacy, like Mamma Mia is for Abba. Who knows, it might even equal the success of Mamma Mia and get turned into a Mamma Mia-style movie.

After all, if we have to remember Bono at all, we’d like it to be by the way he had a bunch of his hokey songs absolutely massacred by Pierce Brosnan‘s foghorn voice. It’d be better than Spider-Man 3, anyway.

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If you ever wanted to see a day when U2 are basically a group of old men repeating themselves time after time, then…

Hey hang on a minute! U2 already are basically a group of old men repeating themselves time after time! Well that’s our opening line buggered up, then. Anyway, if you want to see U2 even more decrepit and creatively strapped than they already are, then you’re in for a treat – U2 are never splitting up. Ever.

It’s true – The Edge said so. And you shouldn’t doubt a man named after a horticultural barrier, because that’d be stupid.

These are testing times for U2. Their new album No Line On The Horizon marks a serious departure for the band, because Bono‘s had his hair cut for it. And that’s risky. Honestly.

People knew where they were with long-hair Bono – uplifting lyrics, songs that all sound like much-worse versions of Where The Streets Have No Name and iPod commercials. But short-hair Bono? Jesus, that’s much worse. That’s songs with no melody, giant glittery lemons and – gulp – artistic exploration. We know. It’s horrifying.

But that’s what No Line On The Horizon is – a short-hair Bono album. That’s why new single Get On Your Boots sounds like an unholy mix of We Didn’t Start The Fire, this song and U2 when nobody liked them. And it’s why people have started speculating about when U2 will split up.

Actually, that’s a gigantic lie. Nobody has started speculating about when U2 will split up, but the News Of The World asked The Edge about it anyway, probably because it was trapped in an awkward social situation with him, and asking about U2 splitting up is marginally more polite than blurting out “Why do you always wear a hat, The Edge? Is it because you’re a BLOODY SLAPHEAD?”. Anyway, this is how The Edge replied:

“If Bono was ever going to leave U2 he would have done it years ago. We’ve got too much music left in us anyway.” Afterwards The Edge — real name DAVID EVANS — spoke about their new album, No Line On The Horizon. “We’re so proud of the latest record,” he beamed. “It’s the best music we’ve ever produced — definitely back to U2’s roots this time.”

Of course Bono’s not going to leave U2. That’d be ludicrous – not only would most employers take a dim view if presented with a CV that included ‘Going “doo doo doo” on an advert for an MP3 player’ and ‘Having a made-up name’ but also, in The Edge and The Other Two, Bono has chanced upon the only three people in the world who don’t feeling like punching him square in the face after a spending a couple of seconds in his company.

So without a split in the foreseeable future, it looks like we’ll all get to look forward to the day where U2′s stage performance involves Bono hobbling about like Old Man Steptoe and… oh, wait, we’ve confused the future with the present again. We did see The Brits last week, after all.

Read more:

No Split On The Horizon – News Of The World

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After being sidetracked with a few things, such as trying to end all world evils and finding out where the boogieman lives, Bono has returned to his 50-bedroom mansion to concentrate on churning out another U2 album.

Bono and the other members of U2 have been threatening to release No Line On The Horizon for a while now and finally they’ve delivered the bombshell with a March 19 2009 release. Is one new release bad enough? No, Bono has to be an extravagant twat and release it five bloody times.

Of course this isn’t a move designed to fill the bands pockets with enough cash to enjoy a lifetime supply of potatoes and Guinness. No, surely releasing the same product five different times is a celebration of all things U2 and a test to see who’d actually buy the same crap again and again. Think of it as an intelligence test without having to work out which funny shape connects the pattern.

Once people either download it illegally or stump up some cash for the bog-standard CD version, what’s going to be so special about the new album No Line On The Horizon? We have some suggestions of what we’d like to see included with the album. You know, just so Bono and the rest of his merry band of rockers can disappear further up their own arses as they rejoice together for pushing the boundaries of album packaging and superfluous additional extras.

For £20 extra, an interview with the band’s creator Larry Mullen, Jr. It would be nice to hear what he thinks. As we all know, Bono just takes over all conversation and namedrops his mates such as the Pope and Bill Clinton.

For £40 extra, a replica copy of Bono’s magical sunglasses. Maybe we’ll be able to tell if they source his power and make him act like the moron we know and love.

For £100 extra, a used hat from The Edge.

Whilst we know they’d go down stupidly well with the legions of U2 stalker fans, it seems that their record company don’t see things like us. As the NME reports, the additional three versions aren’t anything like ours:

“The digi-pack version offers the full album along with a 36-page booklet, a fold-out poster and a downloadable film by Corbijn, featuring the music of U2. A magazine version of the album comes with a 60-page soft cover magazine-style book, along with the Corbijn film as a download. The most excessive of the five releases is the box set, which features a 60-page hardback book, a second poster and a DVD version of Corbijn’s film.”

Oh wow! A poster! Something that’s printed on paper! For hours on end, we can stare in utter awe at a picture of bloody U2. Who would have thought a band would ever think of releasing pictures of themselves in moody looking poses as they stand against a backdrop of a beach, coffee shop or burning car?

And a U2 magazine? We shudder to think what crap they’ll use to fill 60 pages with. Perhaps loads of photos of their faces with captions like ‘We are brilliant’ ‘Feel the love’ and ‘Don’t eat Irish pork’.

Whatever the case, we at least know of one album that won’t feature in our 2009 best-of list. If we wanted to listen to the older generation babbling on about non-important issues, we’d check into an old folk’s home. At least there they might have cool stories about war and stuff.

10 - More election crap. It’ll be over soon, promise…

9 - Is it just us, or is Kanye West‘s new album not very good? - Pitchfork

8 – Why Stu’s beard rocked, despite popular opinion - Biggerbetterbeard

7 – A song about Paris Hilton being president, performed by Paris Hilton. We’re so tired that we can’t even tell if this is a joke or not any more - Popjustice

6 - Toffee apples! - Instructables

5 - Famous people on the internet. Now no longer famous. Mostly - MSN

4 - Oh, Bono! - Dailymail

3 - It Will Kill You Lite: Alligator edition – Nothingtoxic

2 - A kid’s book based on Bob Dylan songs. Not nearly as awful as it sounds – Drawn

1 - The man from 30 Rock is basically identical to the man in 30 Rock - New York