The annual circle-jerking of overrated, but cosy, inoffensive British acts on major labels are all getting a trophy and a party bag. The Wanker Olympics Category Thing – or the BRIT Award Nominations as they’re more commonly known – have been announced, much to the chagrin of anyone with the remotest taste in music.

Sub-Jack-Johnson-and-no-really-there-are-worse-people-than-Jack-Johnson ginger Ed Sheeran has been nominated for 4 awards; if you don’t know Sheeran, he makes sickly, boring ballads for drunk, fat people to sing at 3am outside clubs, and all of his fans are terrible. It’s even worse when he tries rapping.

James Blake was nominated for British Male Solo Artist along with Noel Gallagher, Professor Green and others, which is insulting, because James Blake is genuinely talented [if you like drip-hop that has all the verve and guile of a life-support machine slowly dying itself, that is - Ed].

Meanwhile, The Wanted’s “Glad You Came”, a song about “doing your bit”, foreplay-wise, is considered amongst the best songs that came out of Britain last year, along with Pixie Lott’s “All About Tonight” and Jessie J’s “Price Tag (ft. B.O.B.)”. Perhaps they are some of the best songs by UK artists in 2011, if you’ve only NOW! compilations in your CD collection and you’re a complete buffoon.

Despair.

In the Album of the Year stakes, Adele, a woman who exists solely for the benefit of people who’ve never actually heard a soul singer before, is up against Beaker from The Muppets, Coldplay, Florence & The Machine (Really? Did her album sell well? The woman sings like she’s drowning) and PJ Harvey, who won the Mercury Music Prize, where actual people who’ve listened to music decide on things.

Maroon 5 look like a sure-shot for International Group, which is depressing beyond words, while Blur are being praised for their Outstanding Contribution to Music.

There are more categories but frankly, this is all way, way too much.

The idea of being in the same country as Bruno Mars, for example, even if it’s just for a few nights while he’s polishing his International Male Solo Award, is enough to turn any reasonable human being who enjoys things like an interesting chord structure or clever lyricism into a pitchfork wielding (clever, right?), angry lunatic.

Go and illegally download some albums or something, you dicks.

It appears as if 23-year-old, London born singer Adele has the Midas touch at the moment. Her album has been at number one for so long that it saw off both the end of the world and Cheryl Cole’s US X-Factor career. She’s performed at the Brits to universal acclaim and she’s captured the hearts and minds of both sides of the Atlantic.

But turning everything you touch to gold isn’t so great when the Tax man comes knocking it seems.

Adele has kicked up a right storm, after whining about the fact that she had to pay around £4,000,000 in tax after the runaway success of her debut album, 19, in formerly relevant music mag, Q. She said that:

“When I got my tax bill in from 19, I was ready to go and buy a gun and randomly open fire.”

Which is a lovely sentiment. Although the worrying thing is that, being from Tottenham, she could probably get her hands on a gun pretty quickly, if those bastards at Revenue and Customs didn’t keep taking all her money that is.

And what are Cameron and Clegg going to do with this massive windfall anyway, well, if you ask Adele, nothing that’s going to make her life any easier:

“I can’t use public transport any more. Trains are always late, most state schools are shit, and I’ve gotta give you, like, four million quid – are you having a laugh?”

Of course they aren’t having a laugh Adele. They’re the Government; they don’t know how to laugh.

£4,000,000 is a ludicrous amount of money for the UK Government to be demanding though, after all, how is Adele meant to dine on nothing but the finest beluga caviar or quaff the finest Champagne’s money can buy… or buy several million kebabs and a bottle of Lambrini from Abra Kebabra?

The answer is with the other £4,000,000 that was left untouched by HMRC.

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Even though it’s only February, we’ve already been treated to a couple of music awards. Within the space of forty eight hours, we’d seen our American chums dish out awards at The Grammys and back in more homely surrounds, London’s O2 arena was used to host The Brit Awards.

Asides from different hosts and performances, both ceremonies were roughly the same. E.g. winners, performers and happy cocaine dealers.

Nobody these days dares promote experimental sounds and the trophies picked up are usually by the same acts that’ll only use them as doorsteps. What we need is something where bands are rewarded based on the merit of their talents, not sales.

Unusually, it appears that MTV are leaping to the defence of music by embracing the new digital age with an online based music awards. Here it seems they’ll be more categories than just “sexiest female.”

Once upon a time, MTV used to be seen as a leader in broadcasting music. Instead of being caught up in celebrity gossip like it is now, all sorts of music would be played, encouraging viewers to indulge in a bit of metal, hip hop and whatever else took their fancy.

Flagship shows such as 120 Minutes gave alternative and underground artists the chance to showcase their work and reach a wider audience. The same show also allowed creative types to demonstrate their directing and animating skills showcasing talent across other mediums.

Alas, those days are gone as programmes like Pimp My Ride, Cribs and My Super Sweet 16 have taken over. All of these shows are basically the same. Either we’ll see some idiot, who doesn’t deserve anything, showcase their wealth and rub it in your face or some under-appreciative brat will get all teary eyed because their brand new car that’s worth more than your house isn’t the right shade of blue.

So what’s happening exactally?

“MTV is naming its new digital music awards the OMAs – and leaving the ‘O’ up for grabs. The network’s O Music Awards will take place on April 28, with MTV leaving the ‘O’ open to interpretation from viewers. The network said the awards “honour the migration of music to the digital space, and celebrate the art, artistry and technology of digital music.”

Just like the invention of iTunes, this seems nothing more than a professional body of individuals thinking of a concept for something that has been around for ages. Let’s think about it shall we?

In the beginning there was Napster, an illegal P2P file sharing system where songs could be painstakingly downloaded on a 56k dial up connection. Countless others came along and only when the music industry realised they were losing money was it decided that illegal music downloaders were naughty people who needed their wrists slapped. iTunes was the first real legal way of downloading music legitimately but convincing people to pay for otherwise free content? As you thought, something of an uphill battle.

The OMAs seems slow off the mark in terms of embracing the digital age. We guess that social interaction is being encouraged here so that voters will get the chance to pick the mystery O in the awards title. There is a horrible, sneaking suspicion that this may just be exactly the same as every other award ceremony with The Arcade Fire bagging gongs, but we live in hope.

MTV could be on to a winner if they go about it the right way. Emphasis needs to be focussed on the polar opposite of what we’re used to now. Small record labels need to be honoured, alternative festivals praised and sub genres given recognition. Okay, the current penchant for dubstep may die in a year, but why not honour those making the songs that have influenced artists in pop culture such as Britney Spears?

So MTV, when can we expect our invite?

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So did you watch the Brit Awards the other night? No? Whatever caused you to either watch repeats of The Simpsons on Sky or David Beckham run around in some stripy shorts?

What were you thinking? After all, this is the Brits! An awards ceremony which has given highlights such as Jarvis Cocker making Michael Jackson’s Earth Song performance bearable and John Prescott being covered in cold water. So what mental antics could we expect this year? Drunken stage invasions and musicians off their tits on cocaine? No, we had to settle with Liam Gallagher and Peter Kay having a schoolyard war of words.

Normally, we wouldn’t care, but it was on the Brits!

Because Liam Gallagher was once in a band who were meant to capture the rebellious side of rock & roll, it seemed fitting to invite him to the ceremony. After all, who would want a manufactured reality show group to win a fistful of awards? Either way, it seems obvious that the organisers knew Gallagher would act like a child who gets their sweets taken away. He’s Liam Gallagher, after all.

You see, although Liam Gallagher was in Oasis, he never had much input. Yes, he’d sing and write mediocre songs towards the end, but brother Noel wrote the major hits. Liam was almost like the band’s comedy sidekick monkey who’d start random arguments with people, swear at people from the press and then go and sulk for a bit. Since the band split last summer, nothing has happened in terms of solo output.

But for the Brits, Liam Gallagher was drafted in – probably on the promise of free booze – to pick up an award if he was lucky enough to win it for his former band’s album (What’s the Story?) Morning Glory. This was in the tedious category of Best Album Of The Last Thirty Years. We’re not sure if the criteria was Making A Career Of Your One Good Album, but it worked for Oasis.

In typical form, Liam’s acceptance speech was all fuck this and fuck that. To push things even further, he chucked the award he just won into the audience alongside the microphone he was using. Crikey, how do you respond to that? Peter Kay knew how – he called Liam Gallagher:

“A knobhead”.

And how did Gallagher feel about being called a knobhead? Well, using the power of Twitter, he posted the following rant:

“Listen up fat fuck as a real northerner I was brought up 2 say shit 2 people’s faces not behind their back. Live forever LG”

A brilliant retort that only has a few small problems:

1) Peter Kay is northern.

2) Peter Kay said the remark about twenty feet away from Liam Gallagher.

3) Liam Gallagher said this insult on Twitter, where he typed it on a computer, in a room, away from everyone.

Will this be the new Cheryl Cole v Lily Allen pikey fight? Amazingly, Lily Allen didn’t mock her rival on her crumbling marriage to all-round bellend Ashley Cole. Perhaps the squabble baton has been passed on to these two.

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There are loads of reasons to be proud of being British. An army of lads taking over an Eastern European capital on a stag do; lazy racism perpetuated through newspapers; the BNP.

The one thing that really does make us bloody brilliant is music.

Popstars eh, aren’t they just wonderful? With all their singing and dancing and sitting on tour-coaches and tolerating interviews with Jonathan Ross. Plus the other stuff they, um, probably do. The ultra rich need a night of free alcohol and to celebrate each other’s wonderfulness, before the inevitable decline towards cruise ships and the Line Up round on Buzzcocks. And so, the Brits. The painful pseudo-live event that reminds everyone involved just how fleeting fame is. JLS will be watching the 2012 Brits on their sofa at home, bitterly Tweeting about Geri Halliwell.

This year’s Brits, purportedly live, but any pretence ruined after swearing was blocked out in the first ten minutes, was as much of as shambles as any other year. Host Peter Kay (looking as though he’d been inflated and stuck in a suit three sizes too small) clearly didn’t want to be there, and neatly recycled two carefully crafted jokes over the evening:

He’s [where the artist is from]‘s answer to [someone vaguely similar, or not similar at all, or just a random name]

BBC News summarised some of them:

He described Lady Gaga as “New York’s answer to Su Polllard”, former Spice Girl Mel B as “Yorkshire’s answer to Beyonce”, described Kasabian as “Leicester’s answer to Aswad” and called Robbie Williams “Stoke on Trent’s answer to Shakin’ Stevens”.

Even they can’t resist taking the piss, saying that Kay “put … his talents to good use while introducing acts.”

His other joke was to point out what was on the other channel (which was lucky; we nearly missed Muslim Driving School) and asked why you weren’t watching that. Hilarious, Pete. Especially the seventh time. Holby City, this time? Great.

He was upstaged by every proper comedian that came to present an award, even Alan Carr lighting things up by pretending he’d been hit by perennial uber-prick Liam Gallagher‘s award.

Because Liam, being the cool cat that he thinks he is, threw his award for ‘best album of the last 30 years’ into the crowd. It was fun, like a throwback to the past, as with Liam looking out-of-place as if they’d got Roy Orbison or Mozart up there.

Fearne Cotton bewilderingly presented the backstage bits, getting awkwardly excited over ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING. Shut up, Fearne, it’s shit.

For some reason Geri Halliwell (in a toga) and Mel B (with the sides of her head shaved) were the only Spice Girls who could make it to pick up an award for most iconic brilliant performance or something, which had presumably been awarded for Geri’s Union Flag dress and pants. Clearly Emma Bunton had something better to do, probably working the late shift in her local Texaco. The organisers got their money’s worth though, with each of them making approximately 17 appearances over the course of the night, each time remembering more people they hadn’t thanked.

Lady Gaga, dressed as a giant tampon gave a weird performance and weird speeches, after winning everything from Best Album to Best Male. Jay Z, Lily Allen and other people who are far too cool for me to have heard of all performed, with Robbie Williams rounding things off in his inimitable smug, crowd-pleasing fashion.

Performance of the night went to Cheryl Cole, who sent out a clear message to husband Ashley Cole, who allegedly (do we still have to say allegedly?) cheated on her, by dressing as Michael Jackson and missing her cue to start miming, leaving the performance as out of sync as Jedward.

I’d like to thank everyone for making this column possible, Aimée, Sarah, Eleanor, Stuart, Alex, Robyn – you all know who you are. I’ve been Nik, England’s answer to dried dog shit.

This was a guest blog by Nik Johnson off of Shouting At Cows

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10 - What’s that? You want to be genuinely repulsed? Oh, alright then…

9 - 50 quite good blogs about food – The Times

8 - And now, in startlingly unlikely supergroup news – Bestweekever

7 - Here’s an unusually long palindrome. Hooray for palindromes! - Neatorama

6 – The Cosby Show kids: Where are they now? - Metromix

5 - The world’s longest list of Star Wars quotes that have a word replaced by ‘pants’ - Keeperoflists

4 – Who was dressed horribly at the Brits? Oh, these people – Popsugar

3 - East European lolcats translated into English. In a word: mournful – Rolcats

2 – Today’s lesson: Finnish big band jazz isn’t nearly as awful as it sounds – Quimsy

1 - Warning: this is INCREDIBLY gruesome - I Am Bored

The Brit awards exist to recognise excellence in British music. Or at least it usually does – last night it couldn’t be bothered and just gave a load of prizes to Duffy instead.

That’s right. Duffy. Duffy who your mum likes. Duffy who sings like a baby goat stuck in a cattle grid. Duffy who looks like she’d burst into tears if you showed her a sad kitten. Duffy won three Brit awards last night, roughly six more than she deserves. But still, it’s not like Iron Maiden won anything, is it?

What? Iron Maiden did win something? God. We’re doomed.

If you missed the Brit awards last night you’d do well to keep quiet about it, because we didn’t and it was such a horrific waste of two hours that we’d seriously consider chopping the top of your head off in your sleep and swapping brains with you if it meant we’d forget it.

Because, let’s not mess around here, the Brits were bad last night. Worst in living memory bad. Everything about last night’s Brits was wrong. The barely-there hosts. The set (really, whose idea was it to make the winners go on a five-mile hike just to get to the podium?). All the cutaway shots of bored-looking bald men in suits. The winners. Everything.

In fact, to keep us from getting so angry that we accidentally crap out one of our kidneys, we’re just going to bulletpoint some of the more memorable moments from last night’s Brits for you and have done with it:

* U2 performing their new song as the lyrics flashed up behind them like they were too deeply profound to go ignored. They aren’t profound. It’s a song about some shoes.

* Incidentally, we promise never to mock Bono for his sunglasses again if he promises to never take them off again. Seriously, the man looks like Gollum’s malformed twin.

* Duffy winning Best British Female.

* Duffy accepting the award by saying “Best British Female? I don’t know what that means.” She’s a clever one, that Duffy.

* Coldplay still not realising that shouting “OK!” before every line of every song they perform makes them all look like wankers.

* Duffy winning Best British Breakthrough.

* Girls Aloud‘s artfully-staged ‘nude’ performance being wrecked by all the cameras clumsily picking up the straps of their dresses.

* Duffy winning Best British Album.

* Take That miming from an actual spaceship just to annoy Robbie Williams.

* Duffy winning Best Jumped-Up Working Mens’ Club Cabaret Act.

* Paul Weller winning Best British Male purely because there was nobody else to give it to.

* Duffy winning Most Marketable Amy Winehouse Substitute Who Probably Won’t Take All The Drugs Or Punch Paying Fans In The Face.

* Iron Maiden winning Best Live Act, followed by the swift realisation that Radio 2 listeners should never be allowed to vote for anything ever again.

* Duffy winning Best Sustained Impersonation Of Uni From The 1980s Dungeons And Dragons Cartoon.

That is all. Try harder next year, please.

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Tonight, ITV wipes its entire schedule of supposed entertainment to bring us the Brit Awards 2009.

It may not have happened yet, but we can’t see it being edgy, cool or vaguely risky. The show goes out at 8pm, leaving today’s young pop stars with an entire hour to swear before the watershed kicks in.

Just over a week ago, we watched the Grammys which quite frankly overshadowed the entire Brits ceremony. Not only did the Grammys have a million categories where nearly everyone can win, but we don’t expect there to be any pre-show scraps like the alleged one between Rihanna and Chris Brown. Unless someone attacks Chris Martin with a pack of streaky bacon.

Hosted by Kylie and the two blokes from Gavin And Stacy, we’ll no doubt see references to their own show multiple times during the Brits. Well, that and Kylie putting on her best fake smile when she doesn’t get all the references towards Cumberland sausage.

Its shame really that M.I.A couldn’t keep her newborn child inside her belly for an extra week. How selfish of how to boost the Grammy ratings with a potential live birth. Poor Fearne Cotton would have been perfect to follow the event live on a special ITV2 show. Imagine her mopping up M.I.A’s broken waters and getting the first interview with the child.

Coldplay, Duffy, Elbow, Radiohead and The Ting Tings have all been nominated for best British album. This strikes us as nothing short of an amazing feat for Radiohead to be nominated. Not because it’s a rubbish record, but their In Rainbows album was released in 2007. It became downloadable in October and physically went on sale in December. Perhaps the organisers didn’t want to nominate Estelle in case she did a wonky dance as an acceptance speech. Or maybe everything else released last year was utter gash.

We’d go through each and every nomination, but to be honest it’ll be a waste of your time. Despite winning the Mercury prize, Elbow will win bugger all, Coldplay will sweep the board and make cheesy acceptance speeches and Take That will have to do with their music being used in supermarket adverts.

But what about the entertainment on the night? Who is going to perform at the ceremony and no doubt see their record sales/downloads rise dramatically the next day. Make sure your socks don’t blow off, because the following people are going to be singing and messing up dance routines. Coldplay, Duffy, Estelle, The Ting Tings, Pet Shop Boys, Girls Aloud, Kings Of Leon, Take That and bloody U2.

Yes, U2 are going to be providing us with a performance with their latest single in an attempt to get more people to like it and get over its strange title. We don’t know if Bono plans to spice it up with some visual imagery of dying children, topped off with a speech about how economically fucked we are.

Each year, the ceremony honours a band/artist who in the eyes of the BPI has contributed outstandingly to music. This year, synth-based techno duo The Pet Shop Boys get the dubious honour. With fifty million sales behind them, we can’t really argue with how successful they are. At least they kept Simply Red out for another year.

Will someone turn up drunk at the ceremony? How many swearwords will be uttered? Who’ll balls up their acceptance speech and fall off the stage? No-one knows! Tune in to ITV from 8pm tonight to see the supposed best of British music being celebrated.

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We’d always figured that Ozzy Osbourne was pretty libel-proof, because whatever you accuse him of, chances are he’s already done it.

Snorting a line of ants? Check. Chewing the heads off animals? Check. Urinating on the Alamo? Check. Getting hammered and trying to murder his wife? Check. Falling over a couple of times before the Brit Awards earlier this year? No way! Ugh! You sick bastard! Suggest that and Ozzy Osbourne will sue your tits off.

And win, too – Ozzy Osbourne has won undisclosed damages from the Daily Star after it claimed that Ozzy had a health scare right before the Brit Awards that almost saw him get withdrawn from the show. Turns out, though, that he was such a shaky and incoherent mess during the Brit Awards because he’s Ozzy Osbourne. Sheesh.

Anyone who saw the Brit Awards this year will know two things – 1) that there’s not a court in the land that would convict you for tearing Mika‘s head off and shoving it up his bottom and, 2) whoever let the Osbournes host the show is a clown.

Because the Osbournes were dreadful for so many different ways. Kelly and Jack Osbourne, knowing that that sort of stuff is what they’re going to do for the rest of their lives, dug in grimly and tried to act all professional while Sharon Osbourne managed to get so enraged at Vic Reeves that she actually bent the laws of space and time.

And then there was Ozzy Osbourne – a man who was only allowed to say about four words during the entire show, and even then in the wrong order at completely the wrong time. But the thing is, that’s Ozzy Osbourne. Ever since The Osbournes was on TV he’s been a kind of professional shambles. That’s what we expect from him.

You know what would have happened if Ozzy Osbourne had dug into his heart and delivered a precise, eloquent speech about the myriad ways that Paul McCartney had influenced him as a person and a musician at the climax of The Brits? There’d have been a bloody riot. Appalled Brit School students would have torn up their seats in protest and Take That would have started bottling each other in the face out of nothing more than confused fury. It would have been awful.

So instead Ozzy Osbourne just yelled “Laydeezangennalman, Mr Sir Pol McCartnezizzyszzagh!” and everyone was happy. Especially the Daily Star, because it got to write a story called Ozzy’s Freak Show claiming that Ozzy’s shambolic appearance was down to him collapsing twice before the show and spooking the organisers into discussing whether or not he should appear at all.

None of that actually happened, by the way, which is why Ozzy Osbourne has just won a massive libel settlement against the newspaper, as BBC News reports:

Rocker Ozzy Osbourne has accepted libel damages from the Daily Star over allegations he suffered a health scare which jeopardised the Brit Awards. Osbourne’s lawyer John Kelly said the article had caused “considerable embarrassment and distress”. He added that the newspaper now accepted that Osbourne was fit enough to present the awards and had not suffered health problems.

But, as embarrassing as this ordeal must have been for Ozzy Osbourne, at least there’s a happy ending – Ozzy has decided to donate all his damages to Sharon Osbourne’s colon charity. And, although we’re not sure of the exact figure he received, it’s thought to be at least enough to send four underdeveloped Southeast Asian boys up into Sharon Osbourne’s colon with industrial floor polishers and not come out until it’s shiny and polished enough to eat your dinner off.

Daily Star, everyone scheduled to eat their dinner out of Sharon Osbourne’s arse thanks you for your libellous inaccuracies. Keep up the good work.

The Osbournes hosted the Brit awards last night, so the show promised to be jam-packed with enough controversy to turn your granny blue.

Is that what happened, though? No – thanks to the Brits' stringent 'don't let Ozzy Osbourne say more than three words in a row' policy, the only vaguely controversial thing the Osbournes brought to the Brit awards was the way that Sharon Osbourne's face looked as if it had been attacked by jellyfish in her sleep.

Oh, and Leona Lewis didn't win any of the four Brit awards she was nominated for. That's sort of controversial, isn't it? Anyone?

The Brit Awards always manage to scrape at least one stand-out moment, whether it's Jarvis Cocker mooning Michael Jackson, that Tubthumping bloke lobbing water at a politician or Joss Stone acting like the world's biggest anus. There was plenty of scope for controversy at last night's Brits, too – Ozzy Osbourne wanted to violently attack Heather Mills, for example, and the puffy-cheeked chimney sweep from Kaiser Chiefs got in a strop because people thought he was quite a lot crapper than he thought he was – but nothing came of it. 

In fact, aside from a brief display by Vic Reeves reinforcing why he isn't famous any more, the Brit awards were so utterly incident-free that we wish we spent two hours doing something a bit more worthwhile, like trying to burp the national anthem or crying.

So, without anything interesting to discuss, the Brits can be boiled down to two things – the performances and the awards. The awards went to the artists you expected them to – Take That got a couple, Foo Fighters got a couple, Arctic Monkeys got a couple, Mark Ronson won one – and Mika and Kate Nash also won a Brit each, although they weren't so much 'expected' as 'horribly, horribly wrong'.  

Sad old X Factor winner Leona Lewis didn't win a jot, though, despite being nominated for four Brits – Best Breakthrough, Best Female, Best Album and Best Single. Leona's losses might have been down to music industry snobbery – she won a talent show contest, after all – or a backlash because you can't listen to any local radio station for more than 30 seconds without hearing Bleeding Love any more.

And then there are the performances. Despite the much-trumpeted musical collaborations at this year's Brit awards, nothing really clawed out of the realms of mediocre. Mika wanked around like a little girl hopped up on Um Bongo at a karaoke party with Beth Ditto. Rihanna and Klaxons sounded like one of those dreary mash-ups that were popular six years ago. Mark Ronson, Adele, Daniel Merriweather and Amy Winehouse made Version sound even more Stars On 45s-y than usual and Kaiser Chiefs were upstaged by some tiny buildings.

And let's not forget that Paul McCartney finished the evening with the same four-hour version of Hey Jude that he closes every single bloody event he's ever invited to with.

So that was the Brits 2008. Woo hoo. Let's put in an early motion to get Joss Stone to host next year's show. And let's fill her dressing room with Special Brew beforehand. At least that way we'll have something to talk about afterwards.

Read more:

Leona Loser - Mirror 

The Brits are tomorrow, and only one thing can save us from the slow carbon monoxide poisoning of Mika, Kaiser Chiefs and Leona Lewis performances.

And that's Ozzy Osbourne violently attacking Heather Mills.

It'll happen, too, if Heather Mills decides to show her face at the Brits. Sharon and Ozzy Osbourne have more or less said so themselves. And forget watching Take That mumbling a gracious acceptance speech – who wouldn't want to see a confused, shaking old drug addict having a punch-up with a terrified amputee? Nobody, that's who.

As essentially rational human beings, we'd have trouble leaving Ozzy Osbourne in charge of a tin opener in case he ended up concussing himself with it somehow. However, some people aren't as obviously clever as us, and they've put Ozzy Osbourne in charge of Britain's biggest live-televised music awards show.

Ozzy Osbourne's hosting the Brits tomorrow night, alongside members of his family who have variously been rejected by Joss Stone and almost died in a house fire and called Mother Teresa a cunt. It sounds like a should be a total shambles, but let's not forget that Ozzy Osbourne is a respectable older gentleman now, and he'll have been primped and prepared to within an inch of his life to ensure that nothing goes wron…

What's that? Ozzy Osbourne is going to call the Brits short and launch a violent attack on Heather Mills if she manages to turn up to the Brits and present an award tomorrow? Fair enough. Female First reports:

Speaking about the rumours Heather is planning to attend the prestigious bash, Sharon said: "I would boot her off. I think she's a miserable old cow." Ozzy – who will present Paul with the BRITs Lifetime Achievement Award – added: "I'm looking forward to seeing Paul McCartney – he's my hero. The body of work he's got is just unbelievable. But I really don't want to be there if Heather shows up. Never mind McCartney having a go – I think the audience will string her up. Sharon and I have met them both her on a few occasions but if Paul doesn't know her, I'm fucked if I do. She's fucking nuts."

Let's hope this warning is enough to stop Heather Mills from attending the Brits. After all, it isn't just Ozzy Osbourne out to get her. Rod Stewart has also made his dislike of Heather Mills clear, and don't forget that Paul McCartney will be performing at the Brits, and we all know how tasty he is with a sawn-off wineglass. If she's not careful, Heather Mills could stumble into a bloodbath.

So if she's sensible, Heather Mills will steer clear of the Brits and let it pass without incident. Well, apart from the incident when Ozzy Osbourne inevitably trips over a power cable onstage, spears a Brit through his eye and sets fire to Kylie Minogue's hair on live TV. But that was always going to happen.

Read more:

Ozzy Osbourne's Heather threat – Female First 

Take That, the group of four 50-year-old men who get paid to sing the soundtrack to TV ads for low-rent supermarkets – have got a lot of Brit Award nominations.

In fact, all the acts that scooped the most Brit Award nominations are just sugar-free versions of older performers. The three biggest Brit nod-getters were Mika (Freddie Mercury lite), Leona Lewis (Whitney Houston lite) and Take That (Take That lite).

But don't worry – the Brits also had something for you indie kids too. The Eagles are up for Best International Album. That's The Eagles.

The Brit Awards are traditionally the jewel in the crown of the British music industry calendar, when everyone gathers together to celebrate the best music that this grey little island can produce and then goes home mumbling that it wasn't as good as last year.

And although they're wrong – the worst the Brits ever got were whenever Ben Elton was allowed to be the host – this year looks set to be the best ever because the Osbournes are hosting! Yeah! That means danger and excitement and rock and roll, even though the Osbournes are actually a shaking, forgetful old man, the star of a Saturday teatime singing contest, some girl from a musical and a part-time rock climber. Danger!

However, it doesn't matter how dangerous the Osbournes are because the Brits nominations have just been announced and the likely winners are all so doggedly personality-free that the evening promises to be less fun than a regional barometer convention.

Don't believe us? OK – let's look at the acts that got multiple Brits nominations. There's Take That, the greying reformed boyband up for Best Group, Best Album and Best Live Act. Thought Gary Barlow was a wildchild when he was a kid? Well you should see him now that he's in his mid-thirties! There's Mika (Best British Male, Best Album, Best Breakthrough, Best Single), whose biggest ambition seems to be to write songs for gruesome hen-night parties to screech at full volume on their way to Wetherspoons in a tatty white rented limo.

Then there's Kate Nash, up for Best British Female, Best Breakthrough and Best Single, which means that hopefully she'll be able to give up her day job as a monotone Claire's Accessories Saturday girl. And then there's Leona Lewis (Best British Female, best Album, Best Breakthrough, Best Single) who somehow managed to make the UK's fastest-selling debut album ever, even though no living human has ever heard her say more than three words in a row.

Still, there are a handful of decent acts with Brits nominations, like Arcade Fire and Jamie T and PJ Harvey, so maybe the Brits won't be as completely boring as we're expecting them to be. But, let's face it they won't win. It looks a lot like the 2008 Brits will go down in history as the most grimly professional Brits ever.

Joss Stone, we've never needed you more. Start drinking now.

Read more: 

The Brits – The Nominations - Sky