Separating the sweet, juicy flesh from the stone and skin of this week’s major label releases.

It’s Monday, which means back to work and all those people you’d prefer not to spend time with. Apart from that new Belgian lass that’s just started on the second floor, we heard she’ll do it in the cleaner’s closet for a fiver and a waffle.

It’s the Mango! The best disease-free way to start your week.

Three new releases coming up this week. Reviewed and then represented as a thought, for all the obvious reasons.

Firstly: Boys, Cortney Tidwell. A Nashville native, but don’t expect songs about stetsons, guns and horses. Sure, Cortney can turn on the country when it suits, but most of this album sounds like a collaboration between Bjork and The Cocteau Twins, produced by Joy Division. Which is not a bad thing at all.

The album has emotional highs; take for example, the punningly titled track Being Crosby. But the overall feel is a little more on the downside (track eleven: Oh, Suicide). This collection of sweetly sung sad songs is worthy of your attention.

This album is represented by the thought:

“Oh, sweet Cortney. You fill the gaps in my life which Nietzsche alone cannot reach.”

Secondly: Rock And Roll Survivors, Fanny. Musical inventiveness, a deft ear for intriguing chord progressions, and truly innovative use of technology. This album has none of these, but the band’s called Fanny! LOLZ!!! Genitalia are hilarious.*

This is a reissue of a 1974 album by one of the very first female rock bands.

As you probably already know, Fanny were formed by American sisters Jean and June Millington, with Alice de Buhr and Nickey Barclay. The history books (Wikipedia) do not record how the girls came up with the idea of naming their band after a lady’s wiffwaff, though of course, it was famously revived in the 90s by Gavin Rossdale. In a very clever reworking of the original concept, his band Bush not only took their name from the female organ but were also fronted by a complete twat.

Advice to anyone wishing to carry on the tradition: it would work even better if the lead singer was sort of in charge of the band, like in Chubbie Checker And The Fat Boys. We’d pay a fortune just to hear the announcement: “Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome onto the stage: Susan Boyle’s Hairy Chuff“.

70s rock, a little bit glam, a little bit folksy. Go buy it if that’s your thing. This album is represented by the thought:

“Okay, got that Fanny record. Gonna put it right here, inside my gatefold copy of ZZ Top’s ‘Legs’.”

Thirdly: Farm, Dinosaur Jr. Influential sludgerockers’ second album since the reunion of the three original members. What would you expect from Dinosaur Jr.? Lots of volume? Check. Loads of melody? Check. Percussion that sounds like a tornado ripping through a drum warehouse? Check. Guitar solos that are so wonderful they can cause spontaneous orgasms? Check (See You).

Yes, it’s all here, and if you don’t buy this before next Monday, you won’t be welcome back. We’re not kidding, stay away.

This album is represented by the thought:

“My ears are literally bleeding, my sphincter muscles have literally become jelly, but I literally cannot leave this gig before they play ‘Severed Lips‘.

*Dear Americans, in proper English, the word ‘fanny’ means a lady’s part, and not that enormous sack of shapeless lard you carry around behind you, wobbling and swaying and making us do acid burps. Do remember this the next time you are in England and wonder why people tut at you when you call down the street “Megan, come back here immediately young lady, or I swear, I will smack your fanny so hard.”

You! Follow hecklerspray on Twitter!

Or, to put it another way, Piers Morgan went to America looking for success, and America (and by America we mean Donald Trump) looked back at Piers Morgan and replied: "Sure, why not? You're a man with all the qualities required to succeed here. Your wish is our command".

What is wrong with America? It all started off so positively some 40,000 years ago when a bunch of wandering nomads from Asia decided to set up camp. They had a quaint little society going on, and for thousands of years everything was wonderful, but then in 1492 some Italian named Chris landed on the shore and it all turned to shit.

Civil War, Vietnam, Iraq, then Will and Grace, and now this, the ultimate coup de grace – Piers Morgan – whose list of crimes include making people feel sympathy for Jeremy Clarkson, being editor of the News Of The World once, and having the name Piers Stefan Pughe-Morgan. Commenting on Morgan's performance in the show, touped-twat Donald Trump told him:

"You're a vicious guy; I've seen it … You're tough, you're smart,
you're probably brilliant, I'm not sure. You're certainly not
diplomatic, but you did an amazing job and you beat the hell out of
everybody."

The final task on Thursday's finale was to hold a charity event and raise as much money as possible. Morgan's rival, country singer Trace Adkins, had the duty of babysitting The Backstreet Boys, while Piers was responsible for the auction and food.

Trace sold more tickets, but Stefan Pughe raised the most money, earning an additional $250,000 (£125,000) for his charity.

And what was Morgan's chosen charity? Why it was the Intrepid Fallen Heroes Fund, which provides support for families of U.S. military personnel who have died in the line of duty.

Which is all very well, but it just goes to prove that, no matter how much of an utter cunt you are, if you cheer loud enough in support of the troops, all will be forgiven, even if you had previously been sacked for publishing faked photographs of Iraqi prisoners being abused by British Army personnel.

Whatever, America, you can have him, but don't doubt for one moment that this is anything other than your Judgement Day. So long, it's been good to know ya.

Murderers, rapists and gun-toting maniacs, they make a night throwing TVs out of hotel windows look like a party at the Women's Institute. These are the people you really would not want to meet down a dark alley, just in case you got a Stratocaster wrapped around your head.

6. Jim Gordon

The former drummer of Derek and the Dominoes co-wrote Layla with Eric Clapton. He also murdered his mother in 1983 believing she was Satan (the one with horns, not Clapton). Thankfully, he is still locked up.

5. Spade Cooley

The self-dubbed 'King of Western Swing' killed his wife in 1961 after kicking her to death in front of his teenage daughter. Her crime? She wanted a divorce. He died of a heart attack soon after.

 4. Hugh Whitaker

It's always the quiet ones. Looking at him, the former drummer of the Housemartins looks like he wouldn't say boo to a goose. He even took being sacked from the Hull-based group in good spirits. But something snapped in 1993, when he firebombed the house of former business associate James Hewitt and hit him in the head with an axe. Whitaker has since been released from prison and now lives in Leeds, where he occasionally drums with a local band called Percy.

3. Varg Vikernes

Norwegian Vikernes is described as 'the most notorious metal musician of all time'. And with good reason, the man behind black metal band Burzum was caged in 1993 for murdering Mayhem's Oystein Aarseth – a former associate. The reason behind the murder is still not clear. Before his spell in jail, he regularly enjoyed church burning. He is due for parole in April.

2.  Jah Cure

The baddest of all reggae stars, Cure was jailed in 1999 for 15 years after raping a woman at gunpoint. He has since been released but was refused entry into the UK last year due to his criminal conviction.

1. Leadbelly

The original bad boy, controversial Blues star Leadbelly spent most of life in and out of prison. He was first jailed as an unruly teenager in 1918 for assaulting 'a truculent Dallas prostitute'. It wasn't long before he was back in the clink, this time for gunning down one of his own relatives. He was given a 35 years, but was let out after just two – allegedly because the governor liked his music so much. But he was jailed again in 1930 – this time for assault with intent to murder – and then again in 1939 for assault.