You know what it’s like. You’re minding your own business, doing absolutely nothing wrong and then, KAPOW! Some awful Coldplay song barges into your subconscious while being used as an aspirational bit on some dreary television show.

It simply isn’t fair.

However, thanks to a singing intruder (there clearly should be more ‘singing intruders’… it needs to be a ‘thing’), Chris Martin now knows exactly what it is like for the rest of us poor, innocent, ear-having plebians.

According to various reports, the Coldplay frontweapon revealed how he had to chuck an intruder out of the garden of his family home that he shares with Gwyneth ‘oh jeez, she’s started singing too’ Paltrow.

This warbling trespasser managed to get into Martin’s garden and started singing Coldplay tracks to his pals who were stood outside the premises.

Martin:

“I had a guy the other day who climbed over the gate of our house and started singing Coldplay songs to his friends on the street.”

He added, showing what a dreadful control-freak bore he is:

“Listen, you’re just not doing that right.”

“He politely left. It was bordering on intrusion. Still, it’s nice that people like the songs.”

A proper celebrity would have attacked them with a shovel handle or sent armed guards to get the stun-guns out, but no, not beige Chris Martin. It’s all Polite This and Excuse Me That.

What a grating loser.

Hello. Do you remember when you watched The X Factor final yesterday? Well, by an astonishing coincidence, so did we. And crikey, wasn’t it just totally and definitely and absolutely unequivocally passable? Yeah. Take that, H8ERS.

*Dermot tongue roll* ALRIIIIGHT. It was in two halves, like the bloody brilliant darling that it is. Is it possible to be too entertained? The answer is of course c) Kaposi’s sarcoma.

Nonetheless, yes they absolutely poured out a grand total of FOUR. HOURS. That’s like an hour and twenty minutes per finalist. How many times can we hear Marcus say, “I used to be a hairdresser, and now I’m a singer a bit.” over and over in varying incorporations? Obviously, once you chop out all the adverts that’s only about twelve minutes or so though, obviously. No bigz.  So then. We love adverts. They really really make us want to buy produce via an amusing or creative short film piece. Our favourite advert of course is the one where the little boy can’t wait to give his parents a Christmas present, and how it really really made us want to buy padlocks for our doors. Oh alright, “The X Factor” then. Here’s loads of wank about it, in two sections.

SATURDAY

Hello, we didn’t watch Saturday’s X Factor. Why would we? But if we HAD, the review would have gone something along the lines of this:

Oh crikey, look at all these dead sparrows and PVC and contraceptive pills strewn upon Wembley Stadium. We guess it must be the penultimate X Factor final show! So for those of you who missed it (JEEZ GUYS WHERE WERE YOU? We bought dip, and everything) – Dermot hot stepped to Domi Aragoto Mr Roboto in a tank with women wearing Jodie Marsh’s army belt outfit (this was before the pumping steroids into her neck phase) and – were those tears? Oh no, it’s just perspiration from being sewn into grey woollens for the past three years.

Well, first up to perform was definitely Amelia Lily, which we know for absolute definite. Well, wasn’t she good, gang? Yes, she really sang that Christina Aguilera ballad with quite the pazzazz and passion that Christina Aguilera hardly ever bothers about. And not to mention that bit where the smoke surrounded her and the other stuff happened, that was our favourite bit. Obviously that key change was a little bit too emotional for our tastes, but that’s just because we’re fragile. Amelia’s choice of outfit was a bit ‘punk’ as well, wasn’t it? You could take someone’s eye out with that thing. Nick Broomfield basically did a documentary about it because it was so sadomasochistically wounded. The judges LOVED. IT.  Louis completely rammed Kelly in approval of picking a song for Amelia that he had heard of. It wasn’t our favourite sex we’ve ever seen, but it was better than the Alex Reid porno marginally, and we’re very lonely. He’s having a baby now.

And then up came LITTLE MIX to perform some songs about what on Earth it could possibly be like to be young normal women, which we’ve always been completely nonplussed about. We mean, “women who are down to earth”. It doesn’t really seem to make much sense, seeing as how Queen Elizabeth I was a woman, and how Heidi Klum is DEFINITELY a woman. It makes sense, no. Nonetheless we’re sure you all enjoyed Little Mix’s medley of “Survivor”/”Sisters are doing it for themselves”/”I Will Survive”/”You Make Me Feel Like a Natural Woman”/”Woman”/”Women”/”Girl”/”Girls”/”Girls Girls Girls”. We sure did. But you know what we’re like, we love everything. We’re like a walking Tom Jones allegory.

Finally to perform was MARCUS COLLINS. Warraguy. Loved it when Marcus trotted down those steps in Gene Wilder’s Willy Wonka costume from 1971 and sang the entire saxophone solo from Careless Whisper in particular, all the other stuff we could take or leaves. Tulisa going off on a massive scavenger hunt for self esteem half way through his performance was a trifle odd though, we must say – but then again she did grow up in a box in Camden so we’ll let her off.

Then they all sang again, this time with the judges because otherwise they’d have to dare we say it, ask professionals or something, and Gary Barlow played the piano in a manner of sincerity. Don’t say they don’t treat you. They do. Sound about right? Okay good.

(Oh and Amelia Lily got voted out. Devastation for da nation.)

SUNDAY

Christ sake. This again.

So this was the final FINALLY FINAL kind of X Factor final. Everything was so darn, FINAL about it. Wembley was there, Coldplay was there, Louis wore the entire concept of Hugh Heffner. It was all just very much there. All you could ever want from television. Olly Murs was there for Christ sake! Olly Murs! You don’t see him around much these days, do you? Aside from every waking second OBV, but who can’t have enough Olly Murs?

The proceedings began with a manic display of wonder and glory. (Oh no, not glory, what’s that other word? Oh right yeah, tedium.) and that. Yes, it was the group performance we’ve all been wrestling in our sleep over for the past three months. But wait one cotton-picking, Stacey Solomon singing Chris Rea MOMENT OF COMPLETE LACK OF REASON, there was Goldie! As in Goldie off of When Goldie Used To Be On The X Factor fame, who sings something inexplicably wrong and then crushes Dermot to death with a loving embrace akin to that of the bloke that gets spattered by a propeller in Titanic. Absolutely outstanding work, and better yet, no Frankie Cocozza – this just gets better and better. WE LOVE THE X FACTOR! Merry Amazing Christmas.

And, as Tolstoy always said, you can take the Frankie Cocozza out of the M&S advert, and apparently you can edit him out of life too. Always a rushing flurry of hope to our hearts, that little factoid. And seeing as we love not committing lots and lots of suicide, it works out pretty well all round.

Now, talking of singing some songs by some singers of song…

Kicking things off was Marcus with his personal highlight of the series, which turns out to be Higher and Higher, even though it was Reet Petite and oh, it doesn’t matter. It’s a minute and a half orchestration of something that at some point or another was made with love and care with the express determination to never be on a Debenhams advert. AS IT IS… Sherlock Rowland cleverly deduces that Higher and Higher is not only a song, but the way Marcus’ career is no doubt going, Y’ALL. Obviously she’s wrong in every single fibre, but to be fair does look like she’s been necking Terry Wogan’s special hand lotion for the past decade.

What do you mean, you want to know how Marcus did? No you don’t. There were still two hours to go. Time is actually replenishing. Next up after Marcus, was definitely not Marcus, which was kind of encouraging. LITTLE MIX of course. Or Little Muffins as Tulisa will desperately chip away at until she gets through the door and hacks Shelly Duvall to death clearly. Little Muffins though… Is that sentimental? Or is that just referring to your ‘friends’ (Tulisa. Seriously. Pull the other one) as big doughy balls of fat? We mean… Muffins. Don’t let us go on about it or anything, but muffins? Did Tulisa even stop to think that there might be a manifestation of foetal rubella infection called Blue Muffin Syndrome? Congrats Tulisa, sterling work as ever. Oh she also calls N Dubz fans her little ‘dublettes’  Nope, we’re staying well away from that one. Well away.

Remember when they used to be called Rhythamix? Those were the days. They should have just called themselves CHICKS WITH DICKS. That would’ve been awesome. We think this is possibly where The Saturdays are going wrong.

So what did the ITTLE WITTLE SUGAR LUMP GANG BANG IN CAR PARK MIXYMOOMINS pick for their final song? Obviously obviously it was the En Vogue one, due to it being catastrophically fan-fucking-tastic. Hark, it’s a bit like music almost. Get used to it.

With the contestants done in four and a half minutes, you’d think ITV1 might have to succumb to some dodgy filler material. Not a chance. We were proved staggeringly wrong with a very well thought out outside segment (YES, IT’S THE OUTSIDE SEGMENTS! Last year someone made Matt Cardle a David Cameron pizza! No one knows why!) of Olly Murs and Caroline Flack (or cock-whore-pedophile-bitch as we hear she’s moonlighting as these days) try and communicate with Dermot (HAHA ‘communicating with Dermot O Leary.’ THE THOUGHT!) whilst shoving screaming mental patients away from their shiny knees and precisely measured hints of popularity. Like we said before, we love The X Factor.

And then, to cries of ‘oh go on then‘, four hundred extra songs for the two contenders then. It’s Sunday night, we’ve got a busy working week, let’s treat ourselves… with Christmas songs. Bum. Marcus sang what confusingly sounded like a retro version of Last Christmas. A ‘retro’ version of Last Christmas, that came about in 1985, that would be. Bloody hell Marcus, buy some roller blades. Don’t get us started on the whole saying “Happy Christmas” instead of “Merry Christmas” in such a throwaway manner anyway, when we all very very much know the correct way to say the Merry Christmas bit when performing the popular festive number Last Christmas.

We’ve not been this disappointed since Bono didn’t sing “WELL TONIGHT THANK GOD IT’S THEM INSTEAD OF YOU” really loud in Band Aid 20 like he did in the 80s one. Or alternatively, we haven’t been this disappointed since Bono. We cater for all your needs.

Gary at some point around this stage accidently said “Sex Factor” we noticed, which is a bit of an exciting thing for him to do, for him, isn’t it? He would have had to listen to an entire Fleet Foxes EP to get back on track there. Little Mix then followed with their version of Silent Night and it was dull, but Christ, the hot blonde one is quite notably attractive. But then Westlife come on. We’re never complaining ever again. COME BACK LITTLE MIX AND SING AN ACAPELLA BARBERSHOP QUARTET VERSION OF SHALOM. Or a terriballs cover of Cannonball. We’re good either way.

You know how all the teenagers of today say how ‘good’ is like, ‘bad’, and like ‘sick’ is like ‘good’ and how ‘bad’ is like ‘good’? Well we mean good in the sort of ‘not good’ kind of way of good. You know, like how the teenagers do.

Then…

THE BIT WHERE THEY ALL SING CANNONBALL EXCESSIVE AMOUNTS TO THE POINT OF RELAPSE

We hated it very very much and wish it had not happened ever.

Finally, after a lot of faffing about and Coldplay, and all that sort of thing, we came to a rough compromise that we’ll let ‘inspiring women’ win The X Factor for a change instead of a shivery man. CONGRATULATIONS LITTLE MIX. You have made X Factor “history” as Phil Schofield is calling it these days. What a terrible Christmas No. 1 this is going to be though. Maybe we should fritter away our entire Christmas holiday, all join forces and try and get a post-post-ironic non-entity to Number One instead! Fuck family and Argos and Jesus!

(Just checked Brian May’s blog for his thoughts on the X Factor winners. Don’t think he’s caught up on the results yet. He must have been busy playing Bohemian Rhapsody for a cow in a field.)

Now for god’s sake, look at the state of this.

FOR GOD’S SAKE. Let’s never EVER do this ever again.

The NME has this year decided that the coolest people in the music industry are a bunch of no-names and people we hate with every fibre of our disgruntled being; they will never make it and, if they’ve already ‘made it’, then their last name is Gallagher and we have absolutely no opinion on that anymore.

Being the snide swine we are, it was suggested that we fight the powers that be and show the world of celebrity what’s what and who’s nobody, so here it is in all its underwhelming un-festive glory.

So, in a very well thought out (hastily typed out at midnight last night) attempt to tackle the elitism issues that NME have raised, we got our youngest, hippest (Hahahaha! – Ed) hecklerspray writers – Lauren Mullineaux and Sophie Hall – to create what we consider to be the healthier way to present a list of terrible human beings. We present to you: Hecklerspray Presents: The Anti-Cool List. Presented. To you. List.

Coldplay:

Chris Martin and the boring company he keeps isn’t just limited to his choice of wife, but his band too. His life is pretty much a homage to Bono which is the worst way to live out your days as far as we’re concerned. They played Glastonbury and it was far too, far too ecstatic. They also released an album called Mylo Xyloto because they’re so bloody fresh. We’re British guys so please just take your emotion and your wives heads and go to America where they are a-okay with public displays.

Ricky Gervais:

His grubby stumps are grasping onto the Hollywood sign with everything he’s bloody got these days because he ran out of jokes about five years ago. Remember that one where he was mean to the celebrity? Remember when he wore tiny shorts? Remember when he was fat? We liked him then, thin people are so dull.

Sam Faiers:

We have never seen The Only Way Is Essex, but we understand exactly why this young woman was attacked in the streets by the naysayers. Frankly we’re sickened she had the gall to then moan about this ‘vicious attack’ like she deserves better than Jesus. Click here to see what she looked like post stoning.

Levi Roots:

Haha. What an absolute idiot this man is, he’s not even un-cool he’s just absolutely, unnervingly, refreshingly stupid. Yes, we were all disheartened to learn that Levi Roots stole, HE STOLE, his Reggae Reggae sauce recipe from his business partner. We thought we could trust the Dragon’s to be sharp suited beacon of honesty in these turbulent times, but this throws everything into disarray.*

Michael Jackson:

He’s not really un-cool is he? We’re just yanking your chain. You know what is un-cool though? Dying. Yeah Michael, screw you, screw you and your wonderfully child-friendly nature, we’ll get our kicks elsewhere from now on.

Daybreak:

If it’s already broken don’t make it more broken, is an old proverb that the big-wigs at ITV have never heard. GMTV was a godsend in comparison to this amalgamation of ugly people with sunny dispositions. If you want to hate yourself at 6 AM then join the army. It’s comforting to know that a lot of people have been sacked for this.

Kim Kardashian/Kris Humphries/Marriage:

Possibly the best and most irritating story of the year from America’s fairy tale family of dimwits. We learnt about how to make a quick buck from true love, it was true love right? How could it not be between a preppy princess and the dumbest man who ever lived? Kris is religious and instead of playing basketball he just bounces it off the wall and into his head.

The Olympics:

Lord Coe or whatever he’s called these days lobbied for literally hours to win us the right to host the Olympics and so that means we have to spend all of our non-existent money building something to look better than a smog covered birds nest.  We have a logo, a nightmarishly, child scaring logo that was designed by the steel loving ghouls of Monsters Inc.

Mark Ronson/Katy B:

We recently learned that the only thing worse than 2012 being ruined by The Olympics is a theme song for the Olympics; you’ll never guess what shining beacons of British pop culture are going to be creating that future Samaritans favourite.

Ashton Kutcher:

It’s 2011 which means that nobody remembers the pretty-but-stupid one from That 70’s Show, Ashton didn’t like this, Ashton got sad, Ashton had an affair, grew hair all over his face, and replaced Charlie Sheen on the worst sitcom to ever disgrace Comedy Central—no mean feat.

Chris Brown:

What a piece of work this young felon is. Not only did he beat the woman of our dreams and global pop sensation Rihanna but he then bought a house near her after his restraining order was dropped by the too kind for her own good sweetheart. We like the one where he storms out of an interview for being asked about his boxing habits unexpectedly. Also he hates handicapped people now.  Not cool Chris, not cool. We hope your glass bedroom gets smashed up in one of your rages.

Justin Bieber:

Truth be told, this kid is probably living the coolest life of any 17 year old ever to have existed, but that doesn’t make him cool now does it? And since we’re cynical and depraved of love, we consider him the antithesis of cool. This year Bieber cut his hair and then cut it again… then a woman said he’d impregnated her (or statutory raped her one). And then he went and made a flirtatious video with 41 year old Mariah Carey that’s full of children and pervy Santa Clause.  He’s so young and happy and infecting the world with his joyful lack of charisma.

Benton:

It’s a man chasing a dog chasing some deer and the whole stupid internet starts puking happiness. By the way he’s called Fenton.

Johnnie Marbles:

This is the guy who you immediately added on twitter after he attempted to pie Rupert Murdoch in the face. You probably regret this decision, but haven’t yet unfollowed him. He thinks he’s so cool that he could never be cool. What is cool is Wendy Murdoch lunging forward and punching him in the head.

Charity:

The third world has been in third place for so long now, please will the judges award them silver next year so we can all move on. We can’t take all the obnoxious drama students following us in the streets for £3 a month, we can’t take seeing sad animals or Terry Wogan on television, we can’t take the guilt every time we drink clean water or don’t get AIDS from having sex. There’s nothing wrong with third place, but runner up is much better.

Technology:

Blackberry had a pretty appalling year with the catastrophic and consistent failure of everything it touched, but at least their founder and principal cool dude didn’t pass away before his time.  We use Android so we’re laughing all the way home with our internet access and ability to ring people… but others weren’t so lucky. 2011 was the year communication on-the-go came to standstill as both iPhone and Blackberry broke down at the same time.  Paperweights coincidentally made a massive comeback.

Sarah Palin:

If we hear anyone say the words ‘soccer mom’ next year we might have to deflate all the ‘soccer’ balls silently in the night with neutron bombs. It’s been a terrible year for the hottest lady in politics as the true extent of her red neck status was revealed. A millions thousand affairs, a shit of a brick for a daughter, and a stalker of an un-official biographer… all alleged of course. Politics just isn’t for everyone is it? Get back to your bear traps.

Downton Abbey:

Somehow, the opposite of a gripping drama has glued you great people to your couches to watch ITV every week. Yes, ITV of all things! It’s as if the entire nation just gave up, sighed, and resigned themselves to the fact that ITV was going to keep making original content if we didn’t settle for something. Why the heck you all settled for a period show with Dead—ahem—Dame Maggie Smith over a crime drama starring Trevor Eve we’ll never understand. BORING.

Rioting:

If 2011 had a theme it would be unrest… and what signifies unrest if not rioting? Usually we watch Egypt, France, and lots of passionate European countries riot, but this year we took to the streets to show we can do it too.  We didn’t do it very well and we didn’t do it for any particularly good reasons. We had lots of protests, but the riots in the heat of the summer nights were crassly consumerist. It’s not that the police couldn’t cope with the destruction they just didn’t think we were worth it. If you’re going to pinch some jeans, the very least you could do is accept the challenge of stealing them from a staffed shop in daylight; pussy.

Bankers:

In the 80’s bankers were cool; that’s what Wall Street taught us anyway, they had a perfectly acceptable level of the devil inside them.

McDonald’s New Advert:

Every single time this comes on, which is a lot, we think it’s for a dating site because it should be and every single time we realise it’s not we hate ourselves a little bit more. The golden arches are supposed to advertise themselves using slogans about how much you’re going to love their manufactured mess, not this misleading twee crap. We’ve taken to muting the TV when it comes on before cutting out our eyeballs with cow horns. Just in case like.

Florence and The Machine:

The only good thing that can be said about them is: at least they’re not Laura Marling.  That shouldn’t be the only redeeming quality in anything.

Azaelia Banks:

Lauren – She was number one on the NME list so we had to include her for posterity, but if it’s any consolation then we don’t think her song’s very good either. She makes us feel old.

Sophie – Nobody has ever mattered less.

Christmas Number 1’s:

Remember when Christmas number 1’s were Christmas songs, created for the occasion? Yeah, us neither. And so on and on rages the tiresome battle between the winner of The X Factor and a popular ‘alternative song’. Give us a bloody break will you? Nobody actually cares. It’s a ploy brought to your easily influenced brains by the record companies so that they can make more money. Save yourself a quid and illegally download them both instead that way everyone’s a winner in your heart and that’s the true meaning of Christmas.

Kelly Rowland

From the years 1981 to 2010, Kelly Rowland was pretty much an inconsequential fragment of life. Then this year, ITV1 thought “Err…yeah, alright” and BANG! A career-woman was born, as Kelly got the gig as judge in the ‘new generation’ line-up of X Factor, providing quite a lot of cocaine and laughs along the way.

Sinitta

In essence: Just not a very good idea.

Michael Jackson

Don’t know if we have the energy.

Frankie Cocozza

On his own, he was a particular nuisance. Combined with Gary Barlow, he was our indie Himmler, getting booted off the X Factor for doing some sort of self assuring drug taking to the utter disgust of Beacon of Humble Gary Barlow  (See below.) This would be the same Gary Barlow whom, after putting him through at the judges houses stage of the competition, turned to Robbie Williams and said, “If there’s one thing I’m not going to let this guy do – is behave.” Well, well, well.

John Lewis Advert

Where did a little 10 year old boy find the time and the money to go to some sort of shopping centre (UNSUPERVISED) and buy his mum and dad this ‘present’? The one where the woman died at the end was far funnier.

Peter Andre

Dear Peter, it’s all very well and good doing all those things that you do. We have no beef with that. But when you open up a Literacy Project with Boris Johnsson and hope nobody will notice, we may need to tell you to ‘sling it’ a tiny little bit.

Lady Gaga

She has only come out of one form of female reproduction this year. Must try harder in 2012.

Nick Clegg

Well, it was all going so well for Nick. What with the whole not shafting the country thing and the yellow section at Tie Rack. But then he went and did the whole shafting the country thing, and unfortunately it didn’t work out incredibly well.

Alex Reid/Chantelle’s unborn child

If you take into account Darwin’s theory of natural selection and THIS video, it really doesn’t bode well for this kid at all. “We share a lot of common experiences. Like Big Brother. And marriage.”

Brian May

We do worry about Brian May. He’s been very ‘up’ for things lately. Last week for example, he even went on stage to perform with The Darkness. He even has a blog now for god’s sake. Initial symptoms of a major depressive episode, or just very very enthusiastic about being Brian May? The answer is of course, C) He’s a Bohemian Rhapsody twiddling sell-out.

Scarlett Johanson’s boobs

And we thought her Other Anne Boleyn Girl acting was a bit wobbly! WAHEY! (Dear Scarlett Johnansson, thank you so so much for taking photos of your nude form.)

Gary Barlow

“So Gary, what do you think about your latest inclusion as an X Factor judge and altogether more successful songwriter than Paul McCartney off of The Beatles?” “I think the children should eat more healthily.” Ah okay then. Do one, Gary.

The Collective

Such a disrespectful thing to do for the children. Especially released the same week as Children in Need. Oh wait, it WAS for Children in Need. Well, that’s just awful.

Beyonce’s Fake Pregnancy Bump

Hearty congratulations and all that, Beyonce. But all this ‘Mmm delicious’ pregnancy acting don’t wash with us. YOU ARE DEFINITELY NOT PREGNANT WITH A BABY! How could you possibly be? You are Beyonce, that of many a loin. Definitely not cool.

Men

With the launch of Bridesmaids this Summer, it was suddenly realised that men were awful and women were… Jesus, a bit funny to say the LEAST! You’d think all those years inhaling smoke fumes in the kitchen would have detatched us from a sense of humour! But NO! We did it girls! Women: Quite literally, the new men.

Sky News

16/33 miners saved? GREAT! Perhaps next time such an event occurs, you could also provide us with a pie chart of their diminishing blood sugar levels!

The Smurfs

Right. You know smurfs? You know movies? You know conglomerations of smurfs and movies? Nah. Us neither, because obviously none of us watched Smurfs: The Movie, starring Katy Perry and Alan Cumming and other people who grossly misjudged themselves. But it’s not bad. After scoring a whopping 0% on Rotten Tomatoes, the film eventually picked up to an admirable 23%, and also secured a sequel (SMURFS 2!) in 2013. Lovely.

Google +

We were all so excited, weren’t we? So excited that we could pick up your name and put it in a circle next to someone else who we previously put in the same circle. The exclusive ‘secret invite’ process made us all feel like we were part of a secret haven, better than other people, better than suckers registering Linkedin Accounts. Eventually though, it turned out that Google Plus was awful and pointless. You probably all read our comedic appraisals in our status updates about it at the time. On Twitter.

Emma Watson

There’s a hell-a lot of things we don’t like about Emma Watson. Sure, she has a People Tree fashion range endorsing us to help the community. Sure, she starred in a One Night Only video as a dog. Sure, she cut her hair short and vetoed her entire 20s and 30s. Sure she attended a university and then cried because she was JUST TOO FAMOUS and went home. We can live with all that.  In 2011, Emma Watson became the patron to the Wild Trout Trust. Well now she’s just taking the piss.

Lars Von Trier

One of your more sophisticated mentals now, as we look back on the escapades of Lars Von Triers. After securing success with his quaint little sci fi apocalyptic drama Melancholia, Lars made what The Sun may call a ‘gaffe’, (but we’d probably go with something more along the lines of ‘Quite awful thing to say actually’) about the nazis. Here’s the video to remind you all, but in essence, the whole thing gets articulated much better with a gif wall of Kirsten Dunsts reactions to him.

Justin Timberlake

AND he bought bloody Myspace.

Diva Fever

A very last minute shoe-horned appearance from X Factor favourites (Well, not FAVOURITES, per se, but you know. People who went on X Factor at some point, regardless) have basically done this. And we’re displeased.

——————

*Levi Roots has disappointingly won the legal battle because nothing about ‘his’ recipe was ever secret apparently and this was much more interesting when he was a thief.

People dying is a terrible thing, it’s almost as bad as when annoying songs get stuck in your head, but what’s even worse and more inconceivable than either of those things is when you have fake songs about dead people stuck in your head.

Readers of the ‘Spray, tonight we are disgraced to tell you that we find ourselves in this very situation.  Currently we are dancing round the bedsit singing “Ga-da-fi is d-ead,” to the theme of the Conga, any second now the crew from Insidious 2 will be round to start filming.

One day no new music videos will have been posted on all the pretentious sites, and NME Video, that we patrol to inform you what the beautiful people are doing and you’ll just be left utterly heart-broken and convulsing on the floor while singing the jingle from the Match.com advert, because let’s face it you go there every night like the filthy love-hound you are.  Until this day comes though we can this week offer you some of the finest dirge on the web and Rihanna, who is so non-dirge that she forgave Chris Brown—according to our sources; the Metro.

We’re going to request you watch the video for ‘We Found Love Now’; it’s the one that got all the Irish farmers up in arms.

Now can we just take five minutes please to think about the spoken word opening please? Now an argument I’m sure you’ve all had many times is about the cultural significance of All Saints and all we’re saying is ‘Never Ever’ again will you be losing this debate.  It was actually a slight disappointment that the intro didn’t morph into this slow burning classic, but you know, when lightning strikes in your bedroom what else are you going to do other than call Calvin Harris in? Exactly.

Rihanna just loves raucously rubbing herself against walls and clearly the world is all for that, but once again she’s at the forefront of controversy here at hecklerspray with this illicit piece of propaganda.  The woman condones mind altering substances, home tattooing, sex, violence, sexual violence, theft, and fruit machines, her life insurance must be a nightmare.

RiRi (kill us now) is an Irish fashionista here with her bowler-hatted above average looking bruiser of a boyfriend constantly blowing smoke in her face, it’s no wonder she wants to escape the depravity of the non-lucky Irish for a nice corn field.  We’re with you all the way girl.

It can only really go downhill from here on out, so famous people is where we’ll take it next, and the word famous here is used loosely to mean people you should have heard of if you want us to like you even a little bit.  We Are Augustines are a band on tour with a boring indie band that don’t deserve a mention, in fact We Are Augustines with their trilbys and denim shirts and clear unadulterated love for Bruce Springsteen barely deserve a mention, but then they did make a music video with Brady Corbet and we like him, he has heart.

The song is called ‘Book of James’ which recalls the King James Bible to our educated minds, but in fact we have no idea what’s happening so let’s pretend we’re right and then you all win too, yeah? Great. Brady, yes, Brady Corbet he’s the guy from the classic indie films Mysterious Skin and Funny Games, but while everyone else got careers, he got this, poor soul probably says he’s ‘friends with the band’. Here he looks exactly like the cold blooded murders from Funny Games, though slightly less sycophantic, and with added drugs and sleep deprivation, so it’s all fairly horrible when he wakes up on a train with a man resembling a droopy faced Brad Pitt singing and staring at him.

Here is the space where we would be telling you all about the new music video, sorry- short film, by Coldplay for their song, sorry- symphony, ‘Paradise’ but within the first 30 seconds or so it featured a swinging ape and after the whole Rise Of The Planet Of The Apes thing destroyed our life we decided it was time to quit.  You can watch it yourself though and let us know how disgustingly amazing it gets in four minutes.

By this point in your life you’ve probably resigned yourself to the fact that Canada has nothing to offer you apart from ice hockey, safety, and an easy joke, but you’re wrong and Canadian group Stars have been quietly proving that for nearly a decade, but their newest album is breaking these international stereotypes, erm, internationally.  If you take their newest song and video literally then ‘Dead Hearts’ is about dead children and even if it’s not the notion is so charming it doesn’t matter anymore Canada is good again!  The video isn’t spectacular, though artistically it’s a classy beast; it simply sees hearts forming out of any and every material, before brutally being wiped away or ‘dying’.  These Canadians are a cold people, but they sure do write lovely pop songs.

You’ve heard Coldplay right? Yeah, that’s the guys that make tepid, stadium-sized faeces, swarmed upon by tasteless flies who like vague lyrics that kinda sound aspirational or touching, but best not to dwell on it because that’s not why one goes to a Coldplay gig.

Basically, it’s music for the bone idle.

Disagree? Well, hear this, chumps: Even Chris Martin’s own children – those little oiks who he loves unreservedly and will support for the rest of their lives – don’t even like Coldplay. And Chris Martin knows that to try and force them would be folly.

Chris, who is of course married to the similarly musically-talentless-but-still-sings-for-money-anyway Gwyneth Paltrow, says that he doesn’t want to force his children to like Coldplay.

Fair deal really seeing as he foisted terrible names on them – Apple and Moses.

Martin told the USA Today newspaper:

“My children made me focused on not wasting time on anything I don’t think is worth wasting time on.

“So that’s affected my editing process. You don’t want to spend months and months doing something and have it turn out terrible. You want your kids to be proud, basically. So it gives you extra drive.”

Alas, if this is the case, then we have to equate Martin’s love for his children with his musical output. If they’re driving him to become better, then it’s only fair that the quality of the music is in direct proportion to how much he loves Moses and Apple.

Have you heard the newest Coldplay material?

Call the adoption agency.

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Imagine waking up every morning and seeing Coldplay’s Chris Martin lying there in his hemp pyjamas, gurgling while he dreams about drawing another slogan on his hand which will end world hunger.

It’s little wonder then, that Gwyneth Paltrow has conducted an interview saying that she “respects and admires” people who have conducted extra-marital affairs.

This is presumably because she can think of doing little else.

Paltrow has been married to Martin for nearly a decade now and is clearly so bored with life, that she’s written a cook book and thinking about becoming a professional singer, just to show her husband how easy it is to get a record out these days.

But she really needs someone else to share juices with. She says:

“I am a great romantic – but I also think you can be a romantic and a realist.

“Life is complicated and long and I know people that I respect and admire and look up to who have had extra-marital affairs. It’s like we’re flawed – we’re human beings and sometimes you make choices that other people are going to judge.

“That’s their problem but I really think that the more I live my life the more I learn not to judge people for what they do.”

Of course, she’ll be very understanding and forgiving should Chris have it away with all those middle-class groupies that attend Coldplay’s tedium events in the stadiums of the world.

Either way, if you’re nothing like Chris Martin and have a noticeable personality, you might be in with a chance of being Gwyn’s bit of crumpet on the side.

That’s nice isn’t it. Do tell her to stop singing if you’re the lucky affairee.

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Chris Martin’s Coldplay are unquestionably successful. The amount of records they sell and the number of people who attend their shows around the world are often held up as proof of their quality.

By that token, you could argue that dog muck is brilliant because millions of flies just can’t get enough of it. Or racism. That’s popular around the world too.

Regardless, Gwyneth Paltrow doesn’t care about all that because she knows best. She’s launching her music career and doesn’t need stupid advice from that dippy, stadium filling husband of hers. She presumably thinks Coldplay are just hangar sized turds.

Of course, Gwyneth doesn’t think that at all. She’s as insipid as he is. You can just imagine them sat in their lentil built mansion wiping the tears of carrots away while worrying about the third world can’t you?

And talking of her husband’s musical prowess, she said something remarkably berky.

“He’s a musical genius. It’s like living with Picasso, and being like, ‘Should I make a little something-something?’”

You heard. Musical genius. The man who wrote:

“And the spies came out of the water but you’re feeling so good, ’cause you know.”

Amazing. Still, Paltrow shows good taste in performance coaches, as it transpires that she tapped up Beyonce for tips on how to loosen up before her awful performance with Cee Lo Green at the Grammy Awards.

“Beyonce’s like, ‘Okay. The singing is great. But you’re not having any fun’. She’s like, ‘Remember when we’re at Jay’s concert and Panjabi MC comes on and you do your crazy Indian dance? Do that. Be you!’”

“Beyonce and Jay – they think that I should just go do it by myself. That I should go… in a studio and see what happens. And if it’s good, do it. And if it’s not, don’t. So that’s probably what I’ll do”

Here’s some advice. Don’t. Ever. This is what happens when actors try singing.

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The Glastonbury festival is outrageously overrated. Acre upon acre of tree-hugging hummus weavers hump the ground in the hope that they’re near a layline while pink-faced louts in Stone Roses t-shirts consume crates of Stella ’til they fill their tent with urine.

On top of these obviously good vibes, there’s the lakes of silage that surround the portable shit-pits and burgers so expensive that you could buy a small holding full of delicious cows instead. And there’s the obligatory cry of ‘bolllooooocks‘ that soundtracks your evening as the night draws in.

Of course, the music that Glastonbury has is the reason why people go and, year on year, revellers are treated to one of the most conservative billings on the circuit. That’s why utter dross like Coldplay and U2 are consistently linked with headlining slots. However, unbelievably, there might be an act who actually warrant a trip to the fields of litter – BEYONCE!

Glasto (we’ll say ‘Glasto’ so that the kind of soppy tart that goes to this horrific spectacle will understand what we’re talking about – don’t worry, we’ll say ‘Pilton Pop Festivals’ so nearby residents know what we’re on about, later) hasn’t had a truly exciting headliner outside of Jay-Z’s great top-billing performance. Away from that, we’ve witnessed Bruce Springsteen peddling his sweaty bollock rock to a sea of middle aged (or middle age-minded) chumps in linen trousers and gits in novelty hats.

So the rumour that Beyonce could be headlining is truly fantastic.

U2 are seemingly confirmed for the festival and Coldplay are a dead-cert to bring out their wheel-barrows of grinding, molasses stadium gunk, which leaves the Eavis family the conundrum of finding someone able to stir up interest in those people we like to call ‘music fans’.

Naturally, Beyonce transcends genres and is loved by people from every genre of the rock and pop world. She’s pretty much the queen of everything at the moment and she’d set the Pilton Pop Festival (toldyer) alight with her fistful of amazing tunes and a voice so powerful that she might actually kill the soundman on the desk half way up the field (meet you there, ‘kay?).

That said, we’ll probably get the news that REM or Mike And The Mechanics is going to get the gig instead. That’s because Glastonbury is the worst (and biggest and most successful, we get it – a million flies ’round horseshit can’t be wrong, can they?) festival out there.

Enjoy sitting in the healing fields with your £10 bag of weed. It’s the package holiday to the hippie dream!

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Neil Young once said that “It’s better to burn out ’cause rust never sleeps”, advice that has not been lost on many musical acts of the last couple of decades.

Usually indie and rock bands whose opportunity to ‘burn out’ comes from being dropped by their record label after a disappointing second release. However, the same cannot be said of one of the most insipid groups ever to come bounding forth from the loins of the UK music industry; Chris Martin’s self-satisfaction vehicle Coldplay.

Of course, there is an argument that Coldplay’s brand of self-important bore-rock is one of the most culturally significant musical forms in modern music but that’s an argument to be made by people who aren’t subjected to actually listening to Coldplay, a group punctuated by whining, anally-introverted lyrics and anaemic riffs more reminiscent of an afternoon at a wake than a matinée performance at Wembley.

Now it seems Coldplay have decided to take a step in an infinitely predictable ‘rock’ path by writing a concept album.

Lucky us.

Produced by Brian Eno and Marcus Dravs who should- by now- know better, the album will look into the themes of boredom, loneliness and crippling, arse-numbing tedium. Actually, that’s our upcoming biographical concept release based around the emotions invoked by Chris Martin’s lyrics.

In an interview with the BBC Martin stated that;

“It’s from the point of view of two people who are a bit lost… Two like-minded outsiders who meet in a very difficult environment and therefore have a journey together.”

Before going on to add;

“It’s a concept album but it’s supposed to be very personal within a big framework. Does that make sense?”

Here at hecklerspray, we’ve had the explanation for the concept analysed by professors of both English and Music from some of the top former polytechnic institutes in the country and we can categorically state that, no, it doesn’t make sense at all.

Unfortunately for people with colour and hope in their lives, Coldplay’s album looks to be a nailed-on success having spent a year forming full and reasoned ideas from the fragments of musical detritus that their initial writing attempts had left them with. Coldplay’s album will doubtless be one of the top-sellers of 2011 and the awards and gratification that they so desperately seek will come flooding towards them as their legions of grey, drained fans come out of the woodwork having been forced to tune into every single ‘mission show’ in order to hear a version of ‘Fix You’ played over the depressing opening of a man walking with the legs of a dog or something.

Of course, far be it for us to criticise Chris Martin, Other Guy, The Bassist and Little Drummer Boy. They’re very self-aware and know that there’s a lot of hostility towards them in the world. It’s almost refreshing to see such honesty from Martin as he discusses the lyric-writing process in the studio;

“I’m so lucky that we have that group, in as much as there are a lot of people who don’t like us in the world, but there would be a lot more without this filtering system… Think of the rubbish that doesn’t get out, if you don’t like the stuff that does.”

That statement reads more like a threat of biological warfare than a frank statement about the quality of their songwriting; maybe as long as the entire population of the UK buys their ‘concept’ album they’ll spare us an album of their ‘B-Sides & Rarities’ where the sound of their target demographic groaning under the pressure of mediocrity will be louder than Martin’s warbling about his desire for a larger vault in which to keep his cash.

Short of the aim of this interview, to make Coldplay seem less like whimpering shite-peddlers and more like an approachable, friendly rock band, Coldplay and their front-bum Martin come out of the interview with less musical credibility than a Michael Barrymore Christmas album.

And surely, dear reader, that’s worth the license fee alone?

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Alongside awkwardly snogging a work colleague during the works festive party, Christmas always throws up annual events that throw us off the true meaning of remembering a bloke nailed to a piece of wood.

Forgetting to purchase a turkey means inferior processed lunch slices of the same meat are stapled to a chicken in a poor attempt to fool dinner guests. And everyone’s wrapped presents in tinfoil after forgetting wrapping paper.

Another annual festive tradition is the Christmas number one single. In recent years, it has become a slight uphill battle with the X-Factor hype machine almost guaranteeing the winning a spot at number one.

However last year saw one of the few Facebook petitions actually work as Joe McElderry was derailed to number two with sixth form rebels Rage Against The Machine crowned victors.

Will an X-Factor winner rekindle the tradition? Or can any of these select tracks become a number one alternative?

Coldplay – Christmas Lights

This is a Coldplay song that sees the band follow their own unique method of writing music that divides people like marmite. Starting with a slow and seemingly bland piano chord, the tempo is increased marginally, decreased and built up again. Whilst the lyrics do mention Christmas it oddly references fighting. We’re not sure if this is about battling for that last present on the shelf, or scrapping after one too many Christmas sherries.

The Killers – Boots

After the bilge that was Brandon Flowers solo album, The Killers have reformed for a Christmas that in theory should have us all excited about their next studio album. Like Christmas turkey, this is an awkward affair that we want to forget about instead of a succulent moist cut we want to consume. Flowers sounds like he recorded the vocal as a demo and the producer mistook it as the finished product. The only aspect making us believe it’s a Christmas song is the bell chime that has been randomly chucked in.

Kunt And The Gang – Use My Arsehole As A C**t

Probably the least festive sounding out of all the potential number ones, we could spend all day saying why we love this song. Instead, we asked its creator to say a few words:

“I think my song Use My Arsehole As A Cunt should be number 1 for Christmas because it serves as a warning to the X-Factor people about the kind of sacrifices you have to make to get into the music business. Also, it has a memorable title, something which is important in the modern era of bland identikit pop.

Furthermore, I have managed to re-work a version of the song into a piece of topical satire by altering the lyrics slightly to tell the story of Nick Clegg agreeing to the coalition with the Conservatives. Clever, I hear you say. I wish it had been my idea, I say.”

John Cage – 4.33

Our occasional needy editor Mof Gimmers predicted that this piece of work would be used as an alternative Christmas number one over a year ago. Comprising of four minutes and thirty three seconds of silence, this is what we to believe a postmodern version of the Christmas carol Silent Night. Facebook geeks are currently pushing this as 2010s hilarious option.

Mariah Carey – All I Want For Christmas Is You

This was originally released in 1994, a time when people bought physical records and when the internet was a geek’s wank medium for online gaming. Thanks to developments in software like iTunes, songs from Christmas past are now coming past to haunt us. As soon as December 1st came, radio and TV reminded us of Christmas music we’d rather forger. Normally, you’d have to buy a battered copy of this record on eBay. Now, you can download it on multiple sites, relive the past and forget about it when December 26th rolls round.

For some stupid reason, you can’t embed this video, so click here if you’ve been living in a cave and haven’t even heard it.

Paul Simon – Getting Ready For Christmas Day

This is a good old fashioned musical stomper that rejects choirs, angelic singing and images of Santa in its promotional video. Instead, this is a foot stomping bluesy number that took us by surprise. Lyrically, it tells the story of the stresses before Christmas day kicks in before bankrupting us all.

In terms of musical disruption, Kunt And The Gang’s offering gets the thumbs up from us. Because we have two hands, we’ll also give Paul a thumbs up for the ability to make a cracking Christmas song without making it a ballad or so over the top in festivities we want to vomit.

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Terrible, terrible bland-meisters Coldplay have taken time off from providing the soundtrack to every tiresome Ikea-furnished dinner party hosted by those really ‘sincere’ friends of yours that you actually really don’t like (they’ve got white fairy-lights in their tastefully-decorated front-room for God’s sake) to raise consciousness for the homeless charity Crisis.

Whilst ignoring the irony that, far from ‘raising’ consciousness, they were recently named the band most capable of rendering most sane people unconscious.

In a further lack of any PR savvy whatsoever, the breathtakingly earnest dullards have chosen to drum-up interest in the cause by playing a ‘gig’ – surely more likely to repel – IN SECRET. Genius.

And where are these marketing gurus playing (at a secret location) in December? London? Paris? New York?

Newcastle.

Brilliant. A town that will physically set-upon them with fists and feet if they are seen wearing a normal coat in winter, let alone one of their ridiculous ‘ironic’ faux-military tunics.

And they are limiting the whole enterprise to around 1,000 tickets. We’re not sure a thousand Coldplay fans together could change one of their iPhone sim-cards let alone homelessness but whatever.

Did we mention they’ve chosen as a supporting act a ‘homeless choir’? Let’s say it again.

A HOMELESS CHOIR.

Dear God almighty.

Anyway, the band is urging fans to go to their website to register for tickets. We’re urging everyone else (a much larger proportion of the world) to go instead directly to www.crisis.org.uk and do something directly.

It’ll do more good and you won’t have to see or hear Coldplay and we’ll have done something good, albeit unintentionally.

Everybody wins.

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Rock music is in a terrible place at the moment. That’s not to say that there’s no good bands knocking around… but by shitting crikey, those that find themselves at the top of the tree are making music that is so gaspingly dull that you wonder if guitars should be outlawed or, at least used to bludgeon boring rock stars to death.

This has all been underlined by a poll which looked to decide who in the world of music made the best music to fall asleep to.

And you guessed it! The list is almost entirely made up of rock bands. Tedious, strutting twats who make music so bland that insomniacs are actually replacing their prescription drugs with vapid albums.

Topping the poll, unsurprisingly, is the world most uninteresting band – Coldplay. Coldplay have, for years, managed to take millions of years worth of human musical endeavour, and flatten it out in such a manner that it becomes offensively unoffensive.

If you look at the sheet music for a Coldplay song, you’ll just see a series of lines with barely visible lumps to signify where each tedious note it played. It’s not so much white noise, but rather, a sound so boring that you could play it full tilt in a library just to make the sound of nothing even louder.

The rest of the sleepy list (a poll carried out by a famous chain of hotels who haven’t paid for our advertising, so can piss-off if they think they’re getting a mention here) is equally beige.

Canadian boresmith Michael Buble came second, thanks to his mixture of wearisome MOR pop and irritating staccato jazz bollocks. Go listen to his version of ‘Cry Me A River’ and tell us that he doesn’t sound like someone trying to control a stutter.

Ho. Nest. Ly. All. He. Does. Is. Sing. Like. This. All. The. Piss. Ing. Time. In. An. Att. Empt. To. Sound. Like. He’s. A. Prop. Er. Swi. Ng. Sin. Ger. When. Rea. Lly. He’s. Just. A. Thing. To. Occ. U. Py. Some. Shoes.

Predictably, the churning pedestrian cement mixer rock of Snow Patrol came in third on the list. It seems that people like falling asleep to bands that sound like planes taxiing on a distant runway.

Surprisingly, Alicia Keys made an appearance on the list. Not because she’s interesting, but rather, it seems odd that insomniacs could get to sleep with such a grating and overly-sincere voice rattling around their heads. Apparently, Keys (daughter of Sky Sports presenters, Richard) has a sense of sincerity so large that she’s had to build a special extension on her house just to store it all.

Plodding up the rear with alarming predictability is Jack Johnson who makes music that is so pointless that it may was well be a probiotic yoghurt drink.

Zero 7 and Nouvelle Vague are said to be almost silent with rage at this decision and are hoping that they make the Bands You Shag To list.

Do you fall asleep to any good music? Tell us in the comments if you can keep your eyes open long enough.

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We never thought we’d say this, but Bryan Adams is now our only hope of averting worldwide cultural meltdown.

Unbearably saccharine source of tween fake optimism and total travesty Glee has been given the go-ahead by Coldplay – purveyors of music so meh that if it were a colour it would be beige – to join forces in a multimedia experience so appallingly bland and false that the cerebral cortex of anyone watching will be in danger of just not working anymore.

As any individual left in the world with a brain shuddered at the thought of the sixth of the obligatory eight-per-episode dance routines being a slow-number to the strains of Trouble – surely the worst song ON EARTH – Bryan Adams was, at the time of writing, the one remaining ‘artist’ in the known cosmos refusing to have any of his output associated with the dreadful exploitative ‘hey it’ll be OK, we’ll sing and dance and the future will be awesome’ television show.

As The Sun reported:

[Show] creator Ryan Murphy says [that]: “Coldplay called a week ago and said, ‘We’re sorry, you can have our catalogue.’” At present, the only other artist to continue denying the show use of his music is Bryan Adams.’

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse were tonight reported to be on standby at the announcement that a bunch of tofu-eating bleeding hearts who probably claim to know how to treat a lady and have no doubt said at one point ‘the message is the important thing’ will be gifting the world with the horrifying spectacle of a bunch of identi-kids grinning blankly and with dead eyes singing and dancing to one of their un-singable, un-danceable ‘tunes’.

Bryan Adams was tonight unavailable for comment.

We imagine he was shaking at the thought that just one rendition of Summer of ‘69 on the already horrifically nostalgic/inspirational show will cause the universe to implode or something.

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One of the best things about getting free stuff is the press releases that come attached. Typically they’ll start with the awful phrase “xxx xxx is a man who knows no bounds”.

However, even we have to sometimes use phrases we hate to describe various things. In this case, Jon Hopkins is a man who is makes stunning electronica.

We’d like to leave it there with a link to click, but we feel that Jon Hopkins deserves as much praise as possible. After all, you may not know it, but you quite likely already own one of Jon Hopkins’ songs. Confused? Of course you are. Surely you would never purchase something by someone you’ve never heard of. Everything unknown is rubbish. Isn’t it?

For better or for worse, the majority of people have heard of Coldplay. Once they were geeky students and now they’ve progressed to being geeks who will take over from Bono one day as pop music preachers. But would Coldplay ever borrow somebody else’s song because they liked it so much? Of course, the hardcore following will disagree. Lifted from his MySpace:

“In fact, Coldplay were so taken with Light Through the Veins – the first single from Hopkins’ new album Insides – that they used a reworked version to bookend last year’s bestselling Viva La Vida and persuaded the 28-year-old Londoner to spend the last six months of 2008 opening their live shows across the USA, Europe and Japan.”

Still unconvinced? Listen to Light Through The Veins and it will pretty much cement that fact. It isn’t just Coldplay who are fans of Jon Hopkins. Other notable artists include Underworld, Herbie Hancock and the ambient legend that is Brian Eno. The latter being who Hopkins is closely being compared to.

But everything isn’t just a swirling ambient cloud that eventually breaks into a plummet of piano and acoustic backing. Vessel, for example, starts off with evocative synths before painfully building and lulling you into thinking that it’ll fizzle out without any bite. Don’t switch it off – wait until the last forty seconds where the computer noises kick in. Unsure by what we mean by that? Well to be honest, it’s a term we just learned, but it sounds clever and it’s an accurate summary of what happens towards the end when things go epically mental.

That’s enough of us babbling on. We’re going to run down the High Street making loud machine type noises.

For more:

Jon Hopkins MySpace

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Quickly – try to think of something more boring than a legal dispute between Joe Satriani and Coldplay.

You can’t, can you? That’s because legal disputes between Joe Satriani and Coldplay are the most boring things ever created. If you look up ‘boring’ in the dictionary, you won’t see a picture of a legal dispute between Joe Satriani and Coldplay, because when the author thought about drawing an illustration of a legal dispute between Joe Satriani and Coldplay he became so overwhelmed with boredom that he shot himself.

Anyway, Coldplay have denied stealing a Joe Satriani song. That was our point.

If you own Viva La Vida Or Death And All His Friends by Coldplay and the 2004 Joe Satriani album Is There Love In Space?, then you… no, actually, wait a minute. What sort of sick bastard owns both Viva La Vida Or Death And All His Friends by Coldplay and Is There Love In Space? by Joe Satriani? Do you own both of those albums? Do you? Do you? You do? God, you’re disgusting. What went so wrong in your childhood that made you think that owning an album by Coldplay and Joe Satriani was an acceptable thing to do? Get out. Get out now before we vomit. Oh too late, we’ve already vomited. Now we’re covered in vomit and it’s all your fault. Happy now? Are you happy now?

Anyway, to return to our original point, if you own the Coldplay album and the Joe Satriani album, then you might have noticed a disturbing similarity between Coldplay’s song Viva La Vida and Joe Satriani’s song If I Could Fly. Joe Satriani certainly did, which is why he sued Coldplay for plagiarism at the arse-end of last year.

Now, admittedly Joe Satriani might be the only one who noticed this due to the fact that If I Could Fly sounds like the sort of music you’d be able to buy at a sodding garden centre, but he noticed nevertheless. Not that Coldplay are having any of it – they’ve denied the whole thing in court. The Guardian reports:

According to documents submitted this week by Coldplay’s legal team, any similarities between the artists’ work is not enough to warrant damages. Furthermore, Coldplay’s lawyers allege that Satriani’s song “lacks originality” and should not receive copyright protection… Coldplay have so far resisted paying Satriani. “If there are any similarities between our two pieces of music,” they said in an earlier statement, “they are entirely coincidental and just as surprising to us as to him.”

You can see why Coldplay are so determined not to acknowledge any similarity between their song and Joe Satriani’s – Chris Martin already has enough of a credibility problem what with his boring songs and the way he looks like a drunk horse in a fire-damaged afro. Admitting that he habitually listens to Joe Satriani – who scientists recently discovered was the opposite of music – would finish him off for good.

In the end, though… no, we can’t do it. We tried, but we really can’t care about any of this. Someone wake us up when it’s over.

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