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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And it’s all Gwyneth Paltrow’s fault. Tucked away at the bottom of a New York Daily News article about how many molecules of mashed potato she briefly considered touching with her tongue yesterday – or whatever – came the news that Gwyneth Paltrow’s marriage to Chris Martin is ‘on a break’ and that she’s spending a lot of time with an American real estate billionaire named Jeff Soffer.

Great. Maybe Gwyneth Paltrow will end up divorcing Chris Martin and shack up with this Jeff Soffer chap instead. Let’s hope so because, judging by all the insipid cock she’s inspired her husband to write over the years, it’d mean that Gwyneth Paltrow would the impetus for some of the most cluelessly vapid architectural designs ever seen by mankid. Or a swimming pool shaped like a concerned face, at the very least.

It’s no secret that Gwyneth Paltrow and Madonna are the best of friends. It’s adorable. They’re both like two little lambs frolicking together in a field. Or one whiny piss-thing lamb that looks a bit malnourished and another lamb in a horrible leotard who actually hasn’t been a lamb for about 30 years but still dresses like one. This analogy’s going nowhere, sorry.

Anyway, Gwyneth Paltrow and Madonna have a freakish amount in common. They both give their kids crappy names. They both look like they live on one grain of rock-hard rice a week. They both think they can do British accents. They both do an inordinate amount of whining. They’re both a bit spiritually batshit. And both of them moved to London to be with their overrated British cultural icon husbands.

Or at least they were. Madonna, of course, divorced her cockney husband Guy Ritchie recently so that she could dedicate her life to thrusting her groin towards baseball players while crying in full view of thousands of strangers. And, since Gwyneth Paltrow is happily married to Beaker from Coldplay, at least they’re different in that sense.

For now, at least. Because it turns out that Gwyneth Paltrow has been spending an awful lot of time around mild-mannered billionaire Jeff Soffer, to the extent that she’s apparently now telling her friends that her marriage is all but over. The New York Daily News reports:

Feeding speculation that Paltrow and Martin are ready to split, Paltrow has been staying at Soffer’s Indian Creek Island mansion and spent Thanksgiving with him, sources said… “Gwyneth has confided to friends she and Chris are taking a break,” a source claimed. “Jeff is crazy about her.”

How true any of this is, we just don’t know. But it does seem perfectly feasible that, given the choice between a billionaire or a funny-haired Bono wannabe whose greatest contribution to mankind will be bellowing the word ‘yellow’ over and over again in the style of an elk being anally brutalised with a spiked club, Gwyneth Paltrow would possibly pick the former.

So it looks like we’ll have to keep Gwyneth Paltrow and Chris Martin’s marriage under tight watch for the next couple of months. A divorce wouldn’t surprise us because, as history has shown, if either Madonna or Gwyneth Paltrow do something, the other is never far behind.

Well, most of the time, anyway – Gwyneth Paltrow occasionally makes films that aren’t complete monkeybum every now and again. Madonna’s never really seemed to pick up on that.

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It’s not a scrawny wife or badly-named children – there are plenty of people like that across the country. Instead it’s a shed full of money that he’s made via creating music that wants to make you open the curtains and screaming out loud” hello world, how ya doing?” .

He may need a bigger shed to stash his money in as Coldplay have only gone and sold a bucketful of copies of their new album Viva La Veda. Maybe people have stopped downloading illegally, or the local Chinese man didn’t have any dodgy copies ready when we last saw him in the pub.

To flog records, you need to promote it. Chris Martin and the drummer stopped by to the Radio 4 show Front Row to do this. Only it didn’t go that smoothly.

It has to be said, doing endless interviews can get slightly boring and repetitive. In order to stop doing the same thing again and again, interview discs are knocked up, featuring pre-recorded questions and answers.

These are then shipped off to crap local radio DJs, who then lie and pretend they were graced by someone more famous then the person who just got kicked out of Big Brother.

But for high profile publicity jaunts, it needs to be done live, or if time isn’t on your side, pre-recorded. This happened with the Front Row program. Now, let’s get one thing clear. At Radio 4, they don’t make jokes about poo like hecklerspray does.

The station is pretty high brow and won’t ask questions like: “Do you marmie?” , “When did you last vomit up your insides?”, or “What do you want written on your gravestone“.

No, Radio 4 are much more mature then hecklerspray and it probably explains why we never got an interview slot with them.

Coldplay’s new album is called Viva La Veda and kind of conjures up images of war, fighting and other military stuff. Not exactly fun and thrilling. If you notice, the artwork for the album also reflects this. So, it would seem fairly obvious that clever journalistic folk may pick up on this and ask questions? To us, yes but to Chris Martin, no.

According to the BBC :

“Presenter Wilson questioned whether the new album – full title, Viva La Vida Or Death And All His Friends – was a morbid reflection of the band’s lyrical obsession with death.”

Not really a hard question to answer, but like a timid school boy, Martin asked to be excused because “he wasn’t enjoying” himself and not because he was bursting for a piss. Poor Chris, it must be so different from Jo Whiley on Radio 1 not kissing your arse and worshiping at your eco-friendly carbon neutral feet.

Maybe Radio 4 should have been a bit more like Radio 1 and presented questions to him in text form: “Y ave u kaled ur nu album Viva La Veda? I tink ur h0t Criz”. Lessons learnt for next time.

While Coldplay can’t escape the death references on their album, they should have probably commissioned artwork that didn’t tie into this concept. Maybe a lady with her legs spread open. Not only is it “controversial” but it may prove they have some balls [Coldplay not the lady].

To hear Chris Martin being a total twat, follow the link!

Read More:

Martin Walks Out Of BBC Interview – BBC

It's just, It hasn't even called, you know?

Another person who's recently endured physical combat in the name of love, apparently, is Chris Martin. Gwyneth Paltrow just barely stayed in a hospital. When she was released a Papo said the wrong thing at the wrong time – then it was on!

There's even video…

When last we saw Gwyneth Paltrow she was busting dope rhymes along with Jay-Z. When last we saw Chris Martin he was still saying all things everywhere distinctly had a yellow hue to them. But since all that, Gwyneth got rushed to a hospital slumped over in a wheelchair.

Well, on release the two walked to their car, and a few paparazzi were out there trying to make a buck. One of them said to Martin as he passed:

"Congratulations Chris."

To which Martin lost it. He responded with a tackle, a severe finger pointing and a camera semi-steal. Oh, and these words:

"Have some fucking respect!"

The whole thing's on video – we've got a link to where you can see it. Now if it was our wife getting harassed while walking sick out of a hospital we would have handled things differently. For instance, maybe we'd have helicoptered home from the hospital's roof, or maybe we would have jumped directly into our convertible from our third floor hopital room window. Also we could've cloned ourselves and sent out several doubles ahead to lure away the papos.

See? These are all valid peace-riddled options.

We're keeping the spike-shoes though. Just in case.

Read More:

Chris Martin's Pap Attack – Female First