Every week it’s the same, nothing ever really changes. We come into the hecklerspray bedsit on a Monday morning, having been released to poison the outside world over the weekend, and find the same stinking pizza boxes, the same drained bottles of methylated spirits and the same greasy, ignominious faces staring at us across the room.

Our ‘colleagues’ as we laughingly refer to them are actually lawyers who, down on their luck after losing a Tax Evasion case, have rented out the far corner of the bedsit which is sometimes known as “The Fred West Wing”. They look ill. Lawyers always look ill.

Perhaps it’s the smell which is putting them off their writs. The festering stench of the opposite corner, marked out by a laminated card which- in odious Comic Sans- reads “POST”. It’s enough to make anyone sick to their stomach.

Of course, it’s not just the hideous odour of your letters that can make people sick to their stomach; sometimes we are responsible for sucking all the good humour out of a given situation. This week it was the turn of Robert Pattinson to feel our tepid wrath when we had a laugh at him for stating the bleeding obvious.

Why is it that some of you writer’s feel it’s ok to be mean and stupid about Robert Pattinson? He’s a nice guy and he’s a good actor, but you would rather corrupt us fans with lies and Bad stuff, will let me ask you this, who makes more money? who has more fan’s? not you that’s for sure, bye.

Whoa there Guene! Let’s not be so final here! Bye? Before we’ve even had a chance to retort? That’s like asking a barbed question in the House Of Commons and running away before the Prime Minister can give an answer. Yes… in this analogy, we’re the Prime Minister and you’re some git MP from out in the sticks. The only appropriate response is this: it’s not about the money. It’s about how cripplingly dull you come across in the media.

Which Pattinson wins hands down. Of course, it’s easy to see why you’d ignore his spine-shuddering mundanity when he’s… just… so… attractive. Look at his broody reptile eyes and his pasty-white, alabaster skin. It’s not just us that wants to lay him down among a field of corn either. Happy Sue wants to break off a piece of R-Pattz too:

Since all these millions of girls and women are crazy about Rob, whats your problem? Does it make any sense you run him down when we all adore him? You must be a man and don’t have any idea what women like. Maybe you should check on the Twilight Saga, do you read? See what women do like. Love them…

Do… you… read? Do you- and we’re picking on this for comic effect- read? Read it back, readers. Here’s Happy Sue hoisting the bloated corpse of the Twilight Saga up onto an imposing pedestal made out of faeces and pulped Dan Brown novels. If the Twilight Saga is indicative of what women like then all women must be necrophiliacs who have a sideline in bestiality.

All women are not like that. Some women, like Happy Sue, are. Pam on the other hand is on to us!

Come on, we all know this ignorant little twit’s opinion doesn’t matter. He has to justify his paycheck with this drivel.

Thanks to our self-aggrandising style, many of you may be sitting in front of your computers nodding along with her rousing call to arms. Who cares about hecklerspray’s opinion?! Those guys are nasty! Booooooo. Down with hecklerspray! To those people we suggest 20 minutes of vigorous sexual activity a paper shredder and those feelings will go away forever.

It’s Been Something Of A Stereotypical Week For Your Defective Correspondence. We’ve Gone From Robert Pattinson/Twihards To Idiots Who Type Like Their Entire Point Is A Title. Like Malinda here, who is apoplectic at our suggestion that Biebergeddon might finally be upon us

Okay Now, Look Ya Dumb B*tches!
This Is Ridicouls Bieber Is Amazing And People Love Him, Your Just Freaking Jealous. LOL! There’s No Way The WorldIs Gonna Go All Out Because Of Him, I Mean Yes, He’s Amazing And Wonderfull Gorgeous And Talented. But He’s Not Going Anywhere And Niether Are We!!! Beliebers Forever. And If YOU Have A Problem With It, Well Go Tell It To Someone Who Cares, Like Your Lonley Fat *ss Mom Who Has 3o Cats!

Thanks Malinda (:

Aww, isn’t that nice? He’s amazing, wonderful, talented and gorgeous but not quite amazing, wonderful, talented or gorgeous enough for people to start literally spontaneously combusting in front of our very eyes. What a shock. Then, of course, no-one cares about what we have to say. Remember the advice we gave you about a paper shredder? That.

Still, some of you got in touch to reveal some tragic personal details about yourselves. Like Sarah, who was delighted to see The Tumblr Trawler sink away into the briny depths, killing all hands:

Yay! Yes I am a sad individual. I’m ok with it though.

 So say we all!

Until next week, you sad, pathetic, excuses for human beings. Go and enjoy your 30 cats.

It’s Friday and the hecklerspray bedsit has breathed a collective sigh of relief as they’re allowed out into the world to live among functioning humans for a couple of days. Unfortunately, I’m still here as there are Readers’ Letters to be analysed. Still, it’s nice to have a bit of peace and quiet to work. No Mof Gimmers shouting about codpieces, no Sophie Hall shouting at Kris Wood for making a reclining chair out of sausage and no Euan L Davidson, breathing heavily in my ear.

Yes folks, Fridays are the nicest time to be in the bedsit. It’s easier to sit in “the clean chair” and the stale stench of discarded cigarettes and methylated spirits is beginning to lift. Unfortunately, that means that the foetid stench of the hecklerspray post bag is coming through loud and clear.

It stings the nostrils.

This week has seen some of our most preposterous correspondence to date. Even long-forgotten artists of yesteryear are getting a mention from the lobotomised dingbats that frequently troll their way through the site. What, you don’t believe me?

How about Justine Clark who got in touch to, and I’m not making this up, offer an opinion on Daniel Bedingfield, the artistic equivalent of a beige dining room:

You talk absolute crap re: Daniel Bedingfield in my opinion. His CD Gotta Get Thru This is totally amazing as far as I’m concerned. This is why art is so wonderful and the media is so crucifying. You annoy me immensly and if only you were that spider you so lovingly spoke about.

Art is wonderful, of course. Daniel Bedingfield’s artistic craft and vision is outmatched only by his sister, Thingy Bedingfield. Of course, it’s not just music that’s an art form.

Some people believe television is art, a sensory waltz for the pleasure of your eyes. That’s probably why people react so well to the colourful dribblings of the Tellytubbies or their grown-up version, Noel Fielding’s Luxury Comedy:

I can see why some people really wouldn’t enjoy this show. But personally, I thought it was brilliant. Haha. I adore Noel Fielding and his work, I always have. But what saddens me is that this show has been getting so many negative reviews.
What people need to really understand is that this show is NOT The Mighty Boosh. It never will be. Julian Barratt DOESN’T need to be in this show, because that would basically make it The Mighty Boosh.
Noel can be independent. Let him. Give the show a chance, guys. You’ve only seen one episode. Noel worked quite hard on it.

There we go folks. Artistic vision is not based on the worth or the quality of the finished piece, it’s based on how hard you work. We should have given Luxury Comedy more of a chance, of course. It was wrong of us to judge it on the strength of just one episode and we realise now that next week’s instalment of Carpet Badger’s Woodland Rainbow Experience will likely be one that pushes it into an entirely new realm of comedic existence.

Or it will continue to be pervasively shite for the rest of its run.

On the bright side at least, he’s not Brad Pitt who, according to this five year old article has a tiny penis. Mind you, that’s according to Juliette Lewis who doesn’t seem to have brilliant depth perception. Luckily, Brad has the world’s slowest rapid-response unit to stick up for his pecker.

A woman is more than acunt and a man is more thanacock. This is a very small woman with a need to talk down to a man she hates to admire. Bradly Pitt is a very BIG man where it counts most to be big. He has a big heart, a big bank account and lots of kids with very BIG love for their dad. Also, Brad’s wife respects him which places them both as close to Hollywoody as the planet Mars. Its a real tribute for them to come off as martians in Hollywood where no human thing lasts for long no matter what its size. And another thing about size… In Hollywood the size of a THING is closest to the hearts of men, only a man who loves women would care less about who is unimpressed with the size ofhisSHOE. Pisson HayawathaKuntababe who coulda shoulda woulda but wasn’t anything at all.

Decipher the nonsensical crap and that’s quite a pleasant comment. Men and women shouldn’t be judged on things that they can’t help. Although, not everyone shares the same opinion of people. Remember homophobic git-drip Diane Richardson from last week’s Readers’ Letters? Well, this week she’s back with one of the most sexually menacing comments we’ve ever had:

I am not a moron, i can lay on my bed and put a 14? dildo into my anus until its disappeared and you wont even see a flinch in my eye, can either of you to dipshits do that, the answer is NO !!
What planet are you guys living on, everyone knows that the deeper you can put something into your ass, the smarter you are, so you had better straighten up because i am obviously far superior to either of you.
As for you JOANNA, you probably couldnt even get your pinkie finger in your ass, thats how dumb you are…………Retard !!

Make sure you don’t puncture any vital organs while you’re doing that, Diane. Of course, the insertion of floppy, phallic objects into oneself is high on the agenda of one Paris Jackson, daughter of Michael. She’s pre-destined to have really kinky, unprotected sex with Justin Bieber, according to God. Naturally, the whine of pernicious cunts that call themselves Michael Jackson fans are furious about this biblical necessity:

Whoever wrote this article is a fucking dickhead! You have no respect for anyone whatsoever. Maybe your just jealous coz no one gives you the sex-eye you fuckwit. Excuse my language but you deserve it doochebag. RIP MJ. We love you man. I wish Paris the best in life. Not so much of a fan of Beiber but..whatever.

We also wish Paris the best in life. Perhaps she’ll have a child out of wedlock with young Bieber and it can grow up to be the second coming of Christ, given the religious following that both precocious brats have. Still, at least that was polite compared to DharmaRepublic’s effort, who decided to call us Nazis:

THIS IS MEANT TO A WEBSITE?..news?..entertainment??..or is it the Nazi guide to news….from a Christian perspective?

lol..

GROWN UP GOSSIP…lmAOooOOoo,….hahah

some people REALLY DO DELUDE THEMSELVES DONT THEY….like the creators of such errr…..Site .

This is definitely a website. The fact that it can be read on the internet should be the first clue. Of course, the Nazi guide to news wouldn’t have a Christian perspective, as such but given that DharmaRepublic laughs at their own “jokes” using the term “lmAOooOOoo”, it’s hardly surprising to see them not understanding that.

On the bright side, at least they’re not threatening us with physical violence. Unlike the inimitable Stefani, who was so upset about the Michael Jackson Glee episode that she threatened us with actual bodily harm.

WHAT THE FUCK WAS THIS FUCK ARTICLE ABOUT? STUPID ASSFUCKER IMMA KILL AND SMASH YO ASS AND EAT IT!

Given that the charming Stefani seems to believe that ‘assfucker’ is a biting insult, we’re surprised to see that she would be absolutely fine with eating the anus of our writer. Then again, Michael Jackson fans will do anything to imitate their spiritual leader Uri Geller.

That’s it for this week, folks. We hope you’ve enjoyed this sickening display of fatuousness and we’ll leave you with this:

I think this is a real great blog. Keep writing.

Just kidding, we’ll actually leave you with this:

Fuck you – you little tick terd. You’re a shithead like your buddy Stuart.

‘Til next week, you piss-stains.

God, look at you all.

Sat there in your ostentatious Ivory Towers looking down on us in our hecklerspray hovel as we scrap around trying to pick a living from the meagre bones of underweight celebrities. You sit in judgement of us like a Feudal Lord views his peasants with seeming omniscience.

You sit there with your lucky dip box at the ready, it loaded with randomly generated insults and put-downs designed to make us feel like the lowest of the low, like the dog dirt on the shoe of the internet, like Tim Westwood. Your words are designed to cut, to hurt but are said with the best interests at heart. You want to protect your favourite celebrity because you know- deep down- that they’re too disinterested or stupid to defend themselves.

That’s where Readers’ Letters comes in. Every week we plunge our heads into the faeces clad Water Closet of the hecklerspray bedsit and extract from its odious bowels the hecklerspray Post Bag. It’s enough to make a porn star gag and yet we do it for you as a public service.

A community service, if you will. Ordered by the courts to pay off libel charges.

So here it is. This week’s delve through the detritus.

The internet. It’s so full of homophobes that you’d think it was like a giant, multi-billion-user British National Party meeting. The constant slew of comments coming from graduates of the Youtube School of Intelligent Thought is enough to make your blood boil until it resembles a fine Port. Take this example. You see, homophobes really like to drive home their point by making it in every available space:

The word ‘gay’ appears in an insulting tone a whopping seven times in a three word comment. To all of you, there is only this message. Being gay isn’t something that should be seen as an insult. It’s not insulting to be called gay. It’s just… not.

Of course, sometimes the homophobes manage to dress their homophobia up as a social commentary. In the case of Diane Richardson (her home address is not available at request), she’s chosen to stand in complete opposition to reasonable thought:

Gays have no right to inhibit free speech or define gay. Who do they think they are? Answer: Nobody! Some people ARE born gay I’ve witnessed this in my own family but a huge majority are gay by CHOICE, for instance poor men. Many poor men perform gay sex acts on men for money and in prison heterosexual men have forced and consensual sex with each other. After they’re released they go home to their women. (gross) Anne Heche (loved her hair) was gay for a while.
Sandusky, Bernie Fine , Eddie Long (all GOP) and other pedophiles are GAY because they engaged in sex with underage and adult males. Gays spent a lot of energy trying to convince everyone that pedophiles were straight. Fail! These guys had sex with boys and young men.

Well, there you go then. Here at hecklerspray, we like to start with the really vitriolic crap before we lapse into a more relaxed meander through the scores of people that despise us, not an entire group of people. It’s easier that way.

Speaking of people that absolutely despise us, Libertines fans have been sitting with their thumbs in their mouths, desperately hoping that someone would care enough to write an article about them and hark! Someone did. What did the article say? Does that matter when it provoked so much fury from One Eyed Jacks?

Worst article ever from a talentless author without any sensitivity for good lyrics and musicality.

Hmm… maybe he hasn’t heard The Libertines before. Still, fans of ‘The Mad-Libs’ aren’t the only group of righteous, entitled git-pots to get in touch this week. Earlier, Editor Mof flippantly mentioned Toni Braxton‘s numerous bankruptcy claims in an article about Whitney Houston’s moaning coupon and prompted furious scenes amongst Toni’s fan base.

Read that again.

Toni Braxton’s fan base.

We know. Give yourself a moment to take it in before you read what Brittani had to say:

You should really get your facts straight about Toni Braxton before you start speaking negative about her. That is pure ignorance! Don’t ever talk about Toni again unless it’s on a positive note! Shame on you! You shouldn’t be talking about Whitney either but I guess some people just have nothing else to do with their life but judge others…

Err… right. Sorry. We’ll never talk about Toni Braxton again. She can go on the pile of ‘Celebrity Irrelevancies That We Can’t Mention Because They’re Too Cripplingly Dull” along with Timmy Mallet and Sylvester Stallone’s Mum. It’s the only honour she’s ever likely to win again. This promise didn’t deter Richard though:

There was no need to use Toni Braxton’s name in this article, especially in a vicious mean way, you need to hope you never find yourself sick and in financial trouble, since you seem to think you’re better than others. Quite a shame.

Thanks for hoping that we never find ourselves in financial trouble! Would you be willing to help us out by setting up donations of just £4 a month that would allow Euan Davidson & Miss Robotnik to feed their monstrous cocaine habits? Anything you can give would help.

Let’s face it, everyone’s in financial trouble and we only have Toni Braxton to blame. Still, if you need someone else to blame, why don’t you try everyone’s favourite sexual pariah? No, it’s not Gary Glitter, it’s Caroline Flack! You already know that she’s limping through faked orgasms with human libido Harry Styles but did you know that someone calling themselves Harry Styles left a comment on our articles.

As usual with this kind of thing (see the Readers’ Letters Tom Hardy Special), we can only assume that the comment is from the floppy-haired-erection-monster and treat the comment with the necessary respect.

Harry styles is a cute nice boy Caroline you need a life touching body parts of q 17 year old you could be his mother you fucking idiot get a life and a real boyfriend and if you to get so serious the whole world will hate you Caroline and Harry one direction would be over and bye bye to your fans and Harry I am saying this for you I love your music and you

Harry Styles: demonstrable egomaniac. Not only is he a certified narcissist, he’s also criticising Caroline Flack for her love of tossing him off behind the bike sheds. Oh wait. Hang on. Maybe this isn’t Harry Styles talking about himself in the third person but some jealous One Direction fan who spends 3 hours of every day ‘worshipping’ their Harry Styles doll.

Still, at least worshipping a Harry Styles doll is closer to human contact than being in love with a video game. Yes, the announcement of Resident Evil 6 has seen accidental ejaculations all across the gaming world with one fan’s excitable eruption registering as a 2.3 magnitude Earthquake. The comment below- from Sasha- is indicative of the kind of response our article garnered from Capcom’s verbose and witty fan base.

”’_”’ ???_??? ^^^_^^^ “””_””” $$$_$$$ %%%_%%%** (LOL)** I LOVE U RESDENT EVIL

Moving away from video games and on to TV now as yet more comments pour in on our article which compares The Office with its American counterpart. The sporadic running battles on this comments section have largely turned into a series of vitriolic, xenophobic rants. Like Up Yours, who shoved a flaming envelope through our letterbox before flying home on a nuclear missile.

hey I bet this was some british fuck doing this review its cool to have country pride but just remember the AMERICAN REVOLUTION…… america!!!!! so quit being byes you uk fuck ….the office america wins this thats why it lasted 8 seasons …. suck that…you BOSTON TEA PARTY FUCK

TO ARMS, MEN! THE AMERICANS ARE COMING BACK FOR ROUND TWO! Of course, we’d usually moan about the fact that this article was written three years ago and have a good ol’ chuckle at the idiocy of the man who still believes this argument is relevant. However, given that our friend doesn’t appear to operate in the same area of time-space as us, that line would be redundant. This guy believes the Tea Party has just happened. This man is from the past.

ALL HAIL THE TIME LORD!

Before we all bow down in glorious acquiescence to our new ruler, we’ll leave you with this. Someone didn’t like us having a laugh at Drake’s expense.

Wow this is the worst article ever. Seriously. Kill yourself.

This can be roughly translated as:

Everyone who doesn’t like the same thing I like should either kill themselves or be murdered because my opinion is correct on every single point of minutiae.

So cheers for that, Comrade Stalin.

Until next week, our Semen-Stained Overlords.

If you’re under the age of 22 then you will be familiar with the Daily Mail’s nemesis; common sense. Whoops! That should read Skins. If you’re living like the characters in the show, then you’re probably dead and we offer our sincerest sympathies; we died around the same time as Tony who was paralysed by youthful happiness and, you know, a bus.

If you’re lucky enough to be a child now, then we can blame you for the continued success of what is shaping up to be a life affirming/sucking programme.

Either way you will all be suitably disappointed to find out that a new series is going to be cuming (see what we did there?) to E4 on Monday. There are mere days to prepare yourself. Here in the ‘spray bedsit we like to think of Skins as a disease and as you know, with diseases, you must inoculate yourself with small doses to become immune. Based on that logic and no small amount of self-loathing we subjected, or watched, the two ‘webisodes’ on that thing some of you are calling The Internet. It’s a sharp learning curve for us all.

We’re still on the third cast of complete and utter hopeless specimens and this time they will be entering their second year of a 6^th form run by snivelling political comedy insurance vendor Chris Addison, but not before a little and undoubtedly highly believable dramatic holiday to somewhere sunny. There will be beer  five litres of vodka, there will be drugs, there will be sex, and there will be nothing resembling an average teenage experience. Leading up to this spectacle is where the web episodes come in and steal 20 minutes of your life which could have been used better by staring at a brown wall and contemplating the relevance of the colour brown.

For the sake of everyone, we’re merging these two together in no particular order, all you need to know is that it starts with wanking and ends with two boys, one of whom has gained A LOT of weight, in a bathroom debating who gets to shove the drugs up their arse.

You did NEED to know that didn’t you?

In between a ginger boy fails to have sex with one of those easy goth girls and reaffirms two stereotypes that are going to cause millions of children to be bullied by the bastardised youths watching this drivel and a man who we reckon is probably a heavyweight in the realm of British acting, smokes a lot of weed and talks about his ‘iron lungs’ before being mugged and only slightly sexually assaulted. IF IT WASN’T FOR THOSE PESKY KIDS, EH?

Christ it’s an awful show these days, remember when Nicholas Holt was in it? Wasn’t that vaguely all right? Not even the world’s worst named child Dakota Blue Richards can make it better; though she often tries with her stony glances and androgyny.

Anyway if you can’t be dicked or have some sort of sense about you then you probably shouldn’t watch this. Always the antagonists we will be shunning the popular consensus and tuning in every single week to numb the mind before providing you lucky kiddies with our pearls of wisdom on whatever grandiose shit went down the following day.

So try not to kill yourself and come back here or else we’ll throw a massive, obviously, Skins Party—a popular term meaning house full of dicks—and you won’t be invited and you’ll feel really bad when you see all the photos on Facebook.

In honour of the birthday of Legs Larry Smith, the man who manned the drumstool in the Bonzo Dog Doo Dah Band, it only seems right that we should write about how brilliant Britain’s funniest band are.

Comedy and music? Does it make something awful run icily through your veins? Worry not, because the Bonzos were more than simple jesters.

Emerging in the stupid ’60s, the Bonzos were hip enough to ‘get it’ and smart enough to lampoon it, taking influence from the big groups of the time as well as tapping into the world’s penchant for the absurd and the archaic. Step forward, Britain’s finest Victorian Idiots Psychedelicists.

In the group, we could find the might Neil Innes – unofficial Monty Python member and Rutle extraordinaire – who was the achingly cool face of the group. He was joined by maverick nutter Vivian Stanshall, along with bug-eyed pranksters Rodney ‘Rhino’ Desborough Slater, Roger Ruskin Spear and the aforementioned ‘Legs’ Larry Smith.

In addition to this, at points in the band’s career, they were joined by Eric Clapton, Paul McCartney and Elton John. Not bad for a supposed ‘novelty act’.

The group’s most famous hit is the instantly recognisable pop-smash, ‘I’m The Urban Spaceman’, which you can listen to here.

However, the Bonzos weren’t always so pop-friendly. Riding the wave of a nostalgia that swept through the counter-culture of the 1960s, bands like The Temperance Seven found modest fame. The Bonzos were quick to capitalise on the sense of the absurd. Here’s the Temperance Seven…

…and here’s the Bonzo Dog Doo Dah Band, tackling a similar sound. However, it wasn’t a tribute. The Bonzos were famously dubbed a ‘ballet for the vulgar’, with Neil Innes adding:

“We’re not doing a Temperance Seven, we’re murdering them.”

However, where most comedic musical outfits are one-trick ponies, the Bonzos could ape, lampoon and attack anything! They were clearly fans of a broad spectrum of music, able to convincing take-off anything they lay their mischievous hands on.

They quickly spotted how much of the psychedelic music of the time was ludicrous in tone and even worse in message… yet they clearly enjoyed it. So, taking the nonsense lyrics of those pretending to have taken LSD and marrying it with a convincing pastiche, behold, The Equestrian Statue which could fool the most hardy psychedelic nut at the time.

In the ‘Canyons Of Your Mind’, they slapped Elvis, with ‘Can Blue Men Sings The Whites?’ they cut down the boogie enthusiasts, with ‘We Were Wrong’, ridiculed bobby soxers and with ‘We Are Normal’, they tore apart the alternative rock music coming over from the States. No stone was left unturned. Elsewhere, they made the relentless (ly funny) The Intro & The Outro, which takes a joke and draws it out ’til you feel like the inside of your head was going to rupture.

And of course, they found time to poke fun at the whole notion that Britain was the most hip place to be on Earth with the sarcastic ‘Cool Britannia’, a phrase that would be later taken incredibly seriously by sour-faced indie guitarists and politicians in the ’90s.

Amongst all the musical tomfoolery, the group also managed to pre-date the spoof interview that was popularised by the likes of Chris Morris and various members of The 11 O’Clock show (Ali G, Daisy Donovan et al) by decades with the wonderfully ridiculous ‘Shirt’.

Naturally, it wasn’t all nonsense. Some of it was only partial nonsense, with killer slices of choogle like ‘You Done My Brain In’ and ‘Humanoid Boogie’.

Alas, with the Bonzo Dog Doo Dah Band, you were never far away from a song called ‘Bride Stripped Bare By Bachelors’, ‘Jazz – Delicious Hot, Disgusting Cold’ and ‘Noises For The Leg’.

In essence, the Bonzos are some of the finest tunesmiths that Britain has ever produced and, like most things comedic, they won’t ever be taken as seriously as the pop-culture they dissected.

Funny that.

Every week, hecklerspray is inundated with people who have opinions about us, our lives, our right to do the job we do and the celebrities that we take the piss out of. It’s always delightful to sit and sift through page after page of people telling us that we should be killed or have various parts of our anatomies sheered off by a sharpened snowboard.

Of course, those ones are our favourites and they’re the ones that we keep for ourselves and take to bed with us at night so that the burning hatred of the reader can keep us warm in our cold beds.

These ones are for you…

 Yes, it’s time to trawl through our putrid postbag as we bring you the best/worst of this week’s Readers’ Letters.

This week saw the triumphant return of one of our longest running features after the Christmas period. However, this week’s Hecklerscopes were met with a sniper’s bullet, fired by Kev:

Oh come on, The Daily Mash has been doing these for years.

Oh no! We cried! He’s on to us! We’ve ripped a feature idea off The Daily Mash! How incredibly awkward! We’ll have to issue a full and frank apology to all our readers that were offended by our shameless plagiarism. That was until the notorious hecklerspray Phantom pointed this out:

 So have we…

http://www.hecklerspray.com/hecklerspray-horoscopes-14-20-feb/20062232.php

So pipe down.

Whoops! Sorry Kev, looks like we’re not as unoriginal as you thought. Still, what is unoriginal is the slew of dribbling crapsacks who seem to rely on us for “news” and “facts”. Like Aba here, who was incensed that we comedically overstated Beyoncé & Jay-Z’s hospital demands:

Untrue, the hospital issued a statement denying these rumours. Stop posting false info!!!

Absolutely not. Misinformation is what keeps our blackened hearts beating. We’ll never give it up, not in a million years. Another thing we’ll never give up is picking on Chris Brown and his legion of idiotic fans who believe that he shouldn’t be open to lampooning because he could probably knock seven shades of shit out of us (especially the girls). Deed P was so incensed that he/she forgot how to spell:

I think your the ones who need to grow up and get a life. You have no clue what it’s like to live life as he does. May if you spent half the time you spend talking about other life you can focus on what really important the music. You have no right to judge and continue to talk about something that happened 3 years ago aren’t you suppose to keep up with the times n not get stuck in the past. Please sounds like you need to get a life n stay out of others personal affairs.

Funnily enough, we get this kind of comment a lot so let’s address each issue individually, shall we? That way, we might not get as many in the future.

1. Grow Up & Get A Life: Most of us are grown up and do have lives beyond writing about donkey-punching celebrities. Some of us even have mortgages and families. There are rumours that some may even have parents, despite the common view of us all being spawned by the Ire Tree.
2. You have no idea what it is to live life like he does: Ironically enough, thanks to Team Breezy, we do have a lot of people who are willing to criticise us at the drop of a hat for saying no more than Chris Brown is a violent convicted felon.
3. His music is awful.
4. Aren’t you supposed to keep up with the times?: Yes: and we do. It just so happens that Chris Brown beating Rihanna to within an inch of her life is the comedy gift that keeps on giving. It’s the proverbial rod to beat Chris Brown with until one of us expires. It’s not our fault that he keeps saying really stupid things.
5. Stay out of others personal affairs: Surely the idea of a ‘megastar’ punching another ‘megastar’ square in the face on numerous occasions before being arrested, tried, convicted and publicly apologising all under and intense media spotlight can’t be referred to as someone’s personal affairs.

i aint being funny but keep your nose out of wills buisness alfiono and will smith are the best i love em both im a fan of fresh prince of bel air! x

Good for you Ashleigh! Still, this evoked a response from none other than renowned author Emily Brontë to leave this riposte that we would find it hard to better.

 You’re perfectly right, you’re not being funny.

To quote the vernacular of teenagers everywhere; “sick burn”. It doesn’t matter though because here is a witty and wise opinion of Crowded House:

FUCK OFF YOU CUNTS!!!! YOU FUCKING SHOW PONY FAGGOTS – HATE YOU AAAAALLL. BRING bACK DA RAP METAL. NEIL FINN IS GAY!

The guy called himself “Durst” and had an email address extoling the virtues of the hideous, misogynistic, laugh-at-a-child-while-she-dies-in-a-crush, so-called frontman of legendary shite-metal group Limp Bizkit. Nice to see that people are opening their minds to people of all sexualities. Rock on.

And finally…

If Chevy Chase dies this year, or any other, so will my soul.

Until next week, you wretched hive of scum and villainy.

Death is a certainty. It’s one of those things that you can’t escape from, like Witch Mountain. Or Monkey Island. Eventually, just like the rhythm, it’s going to get you. Don’t fight the inevitable readers – roll over and take out as many people as you can. It’s what Guy Fawkes would have wanted.

Sometimes death is sad. Remember when Helen Daniels fell asleep and Hannah couldn’t wake her up? Gutting. Or when that one off Cold Feet was hit by the truck while she was talking on her mobile phone. Tearful. But we wouldn’t be antisocial enough to want to see them back. Anne Haddy had her chance and she blew it. Big style.

But sometimes death is good. It allows us to never have to see some things again. One of these things is Tim Lovejoy’s narcissistic misogyny and Louise Redknapp’s amazing ability to successfully imitate wet cardboard. We were all glad when Something For The Weekend was cancelled weren’t we?

It meant that we didn’t have to see Lovejoy patronise and denigrate the poor women who spent time to research and develop ideas for a major BBC show and struggle with a hangover. Or listen to Louise Redknapp agree with almost everything that every guest ever said about anything ever before adding some piece of banal information that no-one will ever care about. Which will only be followed by an awkward silence as Lovejoy’s innate arsewipe tendencies surface again.

Well, some people on Facebook have decided that they would like to see Tim Lovejoy do the best impression of an Awful Person since Jade Goody did that racist thing that time.

21,000 twats in fact.

And it’s even prompted ITV to enquire about retaining the presenting team and repurposing the package for their own nefarious needs. Sounds dreadful doesn’t it? What’s worse than Tim Lovejoy and Louise Redknapp being shit? Tim Lovejoy and Christine Bleakley, that’s what. Blood pressures across the country would rocket. It might even prompt some people to have some sort of coronary episode. Is that what you want? People will die.

Saving Something For The Weekend will result in deaths. We’re telling you now.

Join us at hecklerspray and make sure Tim Lovejoy, a man’s who’s overconfidence is only outmatched by his swollen-headed buffoonering antipathy for all woman.

We heard he thought Emmeline Pankhurst only acted up because she was on her period. Just saying.

Alongside all the presents and sherry we receive at this time of year, it’s also a time of year where we have to put up with a variety of seasonal music. Why we only get terrible holiday songs at Christmas is a mystery to us. Surely someone would have exploited the magic of Jesus rising from the dead at Easter.

There isn’t a happy medium with Christmas music. Traditional carols are essentially reserved for Church goers, or children who knock on your door and expect some sort of payment as their angelic attempts at singing fail miserably. As for people like Slade and The Pogues? They’re laughing all the way to the bank.

Younger children now associate X Factor with Christmas and for those left in limbo, there’s really nothing there to inspire. Because all Christmas songs are essentially nothing but novelty records, someone has decided to at least merge the current popular sound of dubstep with a traditional seasonal image.

Visit a club that’s blasting out dubstep and you’ll be met with a strange sight. You’ll see hoards of people who’ll think they know everything about any topic. Grouping together in various corners of a room, these folk will send visual daggers flying across to those who don’t know the latest trend of wearing braces as a belt or drinking lighter fuel mixed with pineapple juice [don't knock it 'til you've tried it, Ed].

If Benny Hill was alive, he’d have loved dubstep. Because he liked to run aimlessly and used slow motion techniques, he was essentially a pioneer of the genres unique dancing style. Watch anyone attempt to move around to a wobbly synth, you’ll be confused as to whether they’re suffering from sort of disease where all of their actions are thirty seconds behind the rest of us, or if a stroke is kicking in

An image of Christmas always whips up the same boring picture, such as Santa, snow covered fields and a tree that is decorated much better than yours. Once a tree is up and the pine needles haven’t cut you open, attaching a set of twinkling lights can look a bit tedious and the best you can literally do to spruce your Christmas centre piece.

Realising this, the Cadger family have decided to spruce up their neighbourhood with a musical lightshow that reflects the various elements in a song. Using Skrillex – the dubstep equivalent of Nickleback -  here are the lights in full action. For those familiar with The Chemical Brothers video for Star Guitar, it’s the same sort of idea, but on a amateur level:

Epileptic people attempting to get home on a night must hate running that gauntlet of seizure inducing traumas.

Just want Santa would have wanted.

Here at hecklerspray, we love nothing more than a good rumour. It keeps us on our toes, and because we’re just a bunch of immature morons, we’ll often add an extra layer to a story.

Sadly, some stuff is fact. So horribly correct and true that we can’t run away from it.

Anyone who attends gigs or clubs for example will know all too well that loud music will have an effect on their hearing. Some say the sign of an ace night is a ringing in the ear the next day. But long term deafness? Even hipsters wouldn’t go for that.

Wherever you go on a night out, alcohol in a uniting tool. Usually overpriced, the quality of booze will always differ due to it being dished out into a plastic glass or poured through a dirty line. For no reason, scientists have been conducting tests to see if music and booze can be linked and unsurprisingly, they are.

Imagine you’re out somewhere and the music is blaring. A study that’s been conducted by real scientists with all sorts of degrees, has found that alcohol tastes sweeter when loud music is playing. That’s basically it.

The noise that you hear could make it difficult for you to judge how much you throw down your neck. To us, this doesn’t quite make any sense. Soul music for example doesn’t make us reach for expensive bottles of champagne whilst gabber doesn’t make us pour vodka in our eye.

Remember everyone, no cures have been established for cancer, AIDS or any other diseases that kill people each year so quite why this experiment happened is beyond us. Still, we can’t expect all of these clever people in white coats to be serious all of the time. It is Christmas after all, so a cheerier experiment must have been called for. Dr Lorenzo Stafford conducted this study and said:

“Since humans have an innate preference for sweetness, these findings offer a plausible explanation as to why people consume more alcohol in noisy environments.”

Really? In all honestly, we’ll slurp a combination of spilt drinks and drip tray if it means we can get drunk. People who are cleverer than us are always wanting to analyse everything in absolute minuscule detail and conduct research in stupidly complex ways. See how much you can be bothered to read of the following below:

“In Dr Stafford’s study, 80 participants (69 females and 11 males aged between 18 and 28 and regular drinkers) had to rate a selection of drinks varying in alcohol content on the basis of alcohol strength, sweetness and bitterness. They were given one of four different levels of distraction, from no distraction to loud club-type music playing at the same time as reading a news report. The tests found that drinks were rated significantly sweeter overall when participants were listening to music alone.”

Effectively then, if you stand next to the speakers in a club, you’ll be gulping pints like they’re going out of fashion whilst making yourself deaf in the process.

Brilliant. THANKS SCIENCE!

Punchdrunk or Lovesick?

Folded

• Adam Farmer drew a lovely picture of Chris Brown for us. You should really see it. Stop thinking about his penis.
• Phoenix Square – Everywhere needs a zombie contingency plan.
• Soviet Anti-Drinking Posters – Temperance is not something that we should be laughing at people.
• World War II - It wasn’t folded in any way. In fact, it was very, very creased but these photographs from the years preceding the war are still interesting.

Creased

• Shit London – Being the bitter lot that we are, most of us here in the hecklerspray bedsit think That London’s pretty shit as a rule but here is the “proof”.
• Jamie Oliver – Shut up, we’re all bored. And wear a tie, you’re on the BBC for fuck’s sake.
• Q – Now he’s young and hip. Like the James Bond films. Can’t we just have a zombie Desmond Llewelyn? It’s the only way we’re going to be happy.
• The Manor Reborn – Seriously? What the hell is this?

Imagine being Annie Lennox. Just think of that for a moment. Gah. It’s rubbish isn’t it? Just think, looking at Annie Lennox’s face in the mirror. Imagine hearing that voice coming out every time you spoke.

Imagine people saying “Hello Annie Lennox” at you. It’s enough to make you want to die.

Annie Lennox has noticed this too, opening up about her battle with panic attacks thanks to being Annie Lennox. However, she’s decided to share some tips with us all about getting over stress, panic and anxiety. You’ll notice that her life is a lot less Dave Stewart based these days, so we suspect the main tip would be “don’t ever work with Dave Stewart – have you heard that terrible cod-reggae album he’s made with Mick Jagger and Joss Stone?”

Appazzently, the former Eurythmics singer suffered from anxiety issues for years and admitted in some self-serving blog that she always felt “excruciating stage fright” before her shows. This anxiousness was very much in-line with anyone who bought tickets to see her perform too.

So what is this marvellous piece of stress-relieving wisdom?

In a blog post, entitled Beating Stress under Duress, she writes:

“I used to suffer quite badly from the fear of flying, but I seem to have managed to overcome this over the last few years. I practice a fairly simple technique. It’s called ‘F… It.’ And I invented it all by myself.”

Get that? Annie Lennox invented the notion of shrugging.

“Every time I went on stage to perform, I’d get excruciating stage fright. I’d have a knot in my stomach just thinking about it, particularly during the small hours of the night before. I don’t buy into the notion that it’s good to be nervous before you go on stage. It’s not good. It’s rubbish! For me, it’s essential to be relaxed.

“Fear creates tremendous blocks. We carry it around subliminally most of the time… so I just tell myself… ‘F… it’… and it seems to work a treat!”

Brilliant, just brilliant. Go and die already you bloated shitehawk. Should we feel guilty for saying that? Two words – FUCK IT.

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Christmas; what a wonderful time of year. Already, town and city centres are awash with twinkling neon as they light up vomit fuelled streets and alleyways. Until Jesus’ birthday approaches, we’ll be gorging on advent calendars, cheap sherry and telling carol singers to bugger off.

Everyone experiences the same Christmas traditions. Mum will blame dad for not buying the sinister sounding pigs in blankets and someone will make the ye olde joke about giving the turkey a good stuffing. But what’s the one item we can all relate at this time of year? Festive music of course!

Over the years, we’ve got used to Mariah Carey, Slade and John Lennon getting airtime. Now, it’s common practice for artists to release cash-in albums, and with Canadian midget and alleged impregnator Justin Bieber leading the way, we’re destined for a miserable Yule. In the UK, the pop charts have been dominated by X Factor contestants reaching number one, but this year, it mightn’t be so easy for them as Nirvana and Amy Winehouse have depressingly entered the race.

Nirvana and Amy Winehouse; the only thing that they have in common is that they’re no longer with us. Just like Jesus. Musically, Nirvana made a short career from making dire and moody music that connected with da kidz of the early nineties. Elsewhere, Amy Winehouse couldn’t do anything wrong when she stepped into a recording studio, but unfortunately personal demons such as alcohol addiction proved her untimely demise. Whilst Cobain and Winehouse are both bonding with the earthworms, there are very different reasons why they’re about to re-enter the charts.

Nirvana are essentially this year’s crap novelty Facebook campaign entry. People who don’t watch X Factor tend to complain that the show’s eventual winner will get an easy ride to number one. These are the same people who spend their time illegally downloading twenty albums a week and not bothering to go out and support the artist they’re stealing from.

Therefore, this gives them a twisted platform to step on and complain that the “real” music they listen to never enters the charts. A few years ago, dweebs on Facebook launched a campaign to hijack Joe McElderry’s chart bid by getting Rage Against The Machine to number one. They succeeded. Big sodding whoop.

It still seems weird that Amy Winehouse is dead. Passing away only a few months ago, there was an initial sales burst of ‘Back to Black’ which is always weird. Why buy a record when the artist has just kicked the bucket? Not like they’re going to be around to reap the benefits. Anyway, the difference between Winehouse and Nirvana is that she was reported to be working on new material. Regardless of the songs being the completed article, they’re about to be released in the form of twelve track album “Lioness.” A mix of new recordings and old demos, the first single will be a cover of Ruby & The Romantics song, “Our Day Will Come.” Cynics may call it a cash-in, but some of the albums profits will go towards a charity to help addicts.

According to reports, these are the latest odds for the musical dead:

“A Facebook campaign was launched earlier this year to help the band’s ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’ to the Christmas Number One spot ahead of the winner of this year’s X Factor and bookmakers Ladbrokes have responded by naming the track as the second favourite at 4/1. Amy Winehouse is given odds of 12/1 to top the chart.”

What’s this? Only second favourite to claim the top spot? Have 2Pac or Jam Master Jay got a release to drop around the festive period? No you div, you’ll never stop the X Factor single Christmas release train as X Factor part timer Amelia Lily is favourite to win the show and release a crap cover version at odds of 7/2.

That’s it, go spoil a young girls dream by campaigning for old musicians who’ve had their glory in the charts. As pointless campaigns go, this rules supreme.

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So, it’s Friday night and you’re probably plotting what to do with your evening. Quite likely, it’ll be the choice of three things. Either stay in with crap panel show on TV or shove in a DVD, go down the pub or, visit the local town centre to see what nightlife is on offer.

A lot of people opt for the clubs, places which can be confusing and a waste of time. You’ll either get some DJ’s who won’t bother working the room and playing records depending on the crowd’s mood. Instead, they’ll drop tracks to suit themselves. Only superstars and overly paid DJ’s can do this. The humble pleb DJ who uses a copy of iTunes can’t.

Back in the 1940’s and 50’s, the nightclub world didn’t exist. Instead, the yoof back then attended a manner of concert halls to dance to a variety of swing and jazz. The songs weren’t played on vinyl, but via live bands who made the experience more interesting by parping ’til their eyes popped.

Go to a nightclub now, and the places are dripping with sweat, packed to the rafters and crawling with creeps who’ll offer you a drink; all in the assumption they’ll get to fondle your thighs. The big band scene just looked that bit more sophisticated. A cool hang out.

Nowadays, we have pesky Dizzy Rascal, but in the 1940’s, a man called Dizzy Gillespie was making music. Christ did he know how to move around a stage, control an orchestra and play a trumpet.

Here he is performing in 1947:

Away from Dizzie inventing bop, Ella Mae Morse was also on the scene bringing some glitz and glamour with her clear and sassy vocals.

And because modern life will never escape us, some karaoke style lyrics appear on this video for you to howl along with. Saying, that the song may be more familiar to some of you than you think.

Finally, we’ve found a cracking hour long performance from Duke Ellington who amazingly composed over 1,000 pieces of music.

Brass instruments have never sounded so ace. If you don’t vaguely attempt to get up and dance during this footage, something is wrong with you. Seriously. There is.

So there we have it! Can we please have a return to the big brass sound please? We’ll get drunk and lose our baps all the same, but at least we’ll be afforded the opportunity of feeling vaguely sophisticated for a change.

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Fashion designers are a funny breed aren’t they? No other profession is full of characters that are religiously followed and praised for their movements. Do you monitor the work your local builder does? Course you don’t you arrogant tool. Do you keep up to date with what a professional footbal- oh.

All you have to do is say the name Marc Jacobs and people who know their stuff will tell you that you won’t be able to fill a wardrobe full of his creations for less than £30. That’s more for the fashion ‘working class’ like us, who’ll have to stick to Primark onesies and tear-stained sweatshirts.

A jumper from Marc Jacobs is likely to set you back £400+. All because people are morons and pay the price for organic, free range camel pubes. You know, as opposed to those ones you get from battery camels.

Designers also like to try new ideas. Perfumes are an easy market to break into as all you have to do give the product a snazzy name, create a fancy bottle and shoot a sexy advert. Two of the three steps were followed by Marc Jacobs, but there was a small issue with the use of model Dakota Fanning.

Star of movies such as Man On Fire, Dakota Fanning still hasn’t reached her twenties yet but has seemingly been in “the business” (not that business) for around thirty years. Is she the Peter Pan of actresses? We say this because everytime she appears in a big screen flick, Fanning always seems to play a timid child or emotionally stunted young women.

Due to the child like appearance of Fanning, it clearly struck a chord with the casting agency who were looking for someone to promote the badly named fragrance “Oh, Lola!” Take a look why don’t you?

That image is from The Daily Mail. They were so outraged that they felt the need to show the offending picture so that their readers could be truly outraged. Why have we done it?

We’re sick.

According to the ASA who govern British advertising, they believe that any bloke looking at that advert will start dribbling manically and roam the streets so they can find female prey to sexually molest. Well, that’s the message we got anyway. That was just us reading between the lines. The ASA released a statement saying:

“We noted that the model was holding up the perfume bottle which rested in her lap between her legs and we considered that its position was sexually provocative.”

Looking a little closer, the bottle was nestled precariously close to her lady garden and because Dakota’s surname sounds extremely like the word ‘fanny’, we can only assume that the prudes out there in advertising land nearly collapsed into a coma with so much filth flying around at the one time. Brilliantly, it seems that people behind the Marc Jacobs admit to creating a paedophilic look for their brand. Someone from the ASA said, in a very stern tone:

“We understood the model was 17 years old but we considered she looked under the age of 16. We considered that the length of her dress, her leg and position of the perfume bottle drew attention to her sexuality. Because of that, along with her appearance, we considered the ad could be seen to sexualise a child. We therefore concluded that the ad was irresponsible and was likely to cause serious offence.”

Imagine if Michael Jackson was alive and releasing dodgy merchandise? The poor children sleeping over at Neverland would just be thinking they were taking part in an innocent photoshoot; all before being used as part of sexy labelling for soup, crayons and carpet cleaner.

Chilling.

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Zane Lowe is an unbearably smug son of a turd and if you disagree with that statement then you’ll probably disagree with most of this article. Ever since the days when he was sitting on a badly green-screened couch, chumming up to the Foo Fighters, Lowe has maintained the air of a man whose every musical opinion is based not on a love of music, but on a love of his own opinions on music.

The Smug-Meister-General of BBC Radio 1′s musical output has a long-running tradition of forcing his opinions down the throats of his listeners by choosing a series of “Masterpiece” albums to play, in their entirety, during his show. Thankfully this only happens once a year.

However, things are different this time.

If Zane Lowe thinks that he can force his idea of what makes a musical classic down our throats then we’re going to do the same thing to our readers, hopefully making you realise that this kind of behaviour isn’t okay. We might strap you all down and force the sounds of The Sugababes’ classic “Hole In The Head” into you, or we might just leave a link and some impassioned words from our writers.

We’ll see how we feel.

For those of you who still care about what the people who employ Chris Moyles think, the Radio 1 press person wrote these words to accompany the email:

Each show will include interviews with the artists and others involved in the making of the album, giving a fascinating insight into the stories behind the songs. Zane also takes a look at how each album since its release has influenced other artists with contributors including Coldplay’s Chris Martin, Blink 182 and Arctic Monkeys’ Alex Turner.

Chris Martin?! BLINK 182?! ALEX TURNER?! Why, Radio 1, with these leviathans of popular music, you are truly spoiling us but what does the Git-In-Chief have to say about his little collection?

“It gets harder every year to pick them, but this year’s four albums each hold a special place in the record collections of many, whilst at the at the same time influencing on many of today’s most successful and brilliant artists.”

It gets harder because you’re trying so hard to look like you know music Zane. The identity of the albums that Lowe has chosen (by committee) isn’t a secret but we genuinely couldn’t care less what they are so you’ll have to look elsewhere for them. Sorry chumps.

Anyway, taking a leaf out of Lowe’s Big Book of Self-Importance, we’ve come up with a list of our ‘masterpiece’ albums. No committee, no real thought. Everybody in the hecklerspray bedsit got the chance to pick one. It’s only fair.

Dare – The Human League

Mof Gimmers: Synthpop was always a ludicrous (gloriously so) genre, which showcased a retrofuturism hatched up in bedsits and motorway cafes by young men with dreadful haircuts and worse clothes. Then, Phil Oakey & Co. realised that they were sitting on something that was plain futuristic and went about making one of the finest, weirdest pop albums ever made. While ‘Don’t You Want Me’ is standard wedding fodder, it’s still a bona fide masterpiece. Backed by the catchier-than-mumps ‘Love Action’, the fierce ‘Sound Of The Crowd’ and the thunderous ‘Do Or Die’, ‘Dare’ is just about the most perfect pop-art LP ever made.

Listen to it on Spotify.

Check Your Head – Beastie Boys

Si Sharp: ‘Paul’s Boutique’ may have seen them at their lyrical peak, but 1992′s Check Your Head is the grooviest hip-hop album of all time.

Listen to it on Spotify.

Lungs – Florence & The Machine

Joanna Bolouri: Original, beautiful, quirky and downright genius. An album that could bring back longing and joy to an otherwise dead heart.

Listen to it on Spotify.

Beat Me – Electric Eel Shock

Kris Silver: An album that perfectly sums up this band of Japanese outsiders, fusing pop, punk, metal and comedy to make a collection of riotous, yet still catchy, and often funny songs about everything from politics to fishing.

Listen to it on Spotify.

We Are The Pipettes – The Pipettes

Robin Darke: Failing to invigorate the market with a reinvention of the traditional 60s girl group, this album breathes a modern interpretation into a staple of Motown history; catchy, feminism-infused and highly underrated. Get them before they turn eurodance and shi…oh.

Listen to it on Spotify.

Mr Beast – Mogwai

Michael Park: Mogwai have been producing exceptional album after exceptional album right back to 1997′s ‘Young Team’ but this attempt from 2006 is one of their most accessible. Rolling crescendoes and haunting lulls, what’s not to like?

Listen to it on Spotify.

Actually – The Pet Shop Boys

Sophie Hall: It’s the one with ‘What Have I Done to Deserve This?’ on it – a song which would upgrade ‘Disappointing second Hear’say Album’ to ‘Best contribution to sound in the universe’ in a mere moment.

Listen to it on Spotify.

Hootenanny – The Replacements

Lauren Mullineaux: It might not be their finest album, but it captures a band on the brink of unappreciated greatness and showed the self-deprecating maturity of Westerberg’s lyrics.  Besides the man is a genius.

Listen to it on Spotify.

Second Toughest In The Infants – Underworld

Matthew Laidlow: Comprising multiple styles from lounge to drum & bass, progressive electro to full-on acid, Second Toughest In The Infants is an album that sounds as fresh today as when it first came out, especially when coupled with the rambling, confusing lyrics of Karl Hyde.

Listen to it on Spotify.

Get them all on one, big Spotify playlist so that you can impress people at parties.

So there you have it, readers. Nine classic albums from the furthest reaches of musical taste (and decency), all delivered to you without the need for a three hour retrospective starring Chris Martin and Alex Turner.

You might not like all of the albums on our list but do feel free to tell us your ‘masterpiece’ albums in the comments. Or slag off Zane Lowe. It’s really up to you.

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