Mick Jagger, a man with a face like a thousand ballsacks, is no political football! Nosiree! He doesn’t like to be aligned to any party, mainly because he knows that its not in his interests to side with anyone, lest he lose a bunch of fans.

With that, he doesn’t like Prime Minister David Cameron trying to rim him for public favour.

See, Davey Boy Cameron invited Mick Jagger (with all that swagger, whatever that means these days) to an event in Switzerland. The event was about economics. Or, if you prefer, everyone out there was opening bank accounts so they don’t have to pay their taxes. That’s precisely what was going on.

And what was this event called?

No, is wasn’t called ‘Posh Gits Learn How To Hide Penniesfest’. Rather, the Rolling Stones frontman was invited to join Cameron at the Great British Tea Party in Davos.

Yes. Apparently there’s a place called Davos. Isn’t that a Doctor Who baddie or something? Don’t tell us. We honestly couldn’t care less.

Anyway, this event was (apparently) aimed at boosting foreign investment in the country ahead of the 2012 London Olympics, but Jagger decided against going to it when news of his appearance was leaked to the media.

In a statement, Jagger admitted that he was looking forward to attending the economics summit, but refuses to be used as a puppet for the Conservative Party.

He ranted:

“I came to Davos as a guest, as I thought it would be stimulating… I have always been interested in economics and world events (but) I now find myself being used as a political football and there has been a lot of comment about my political allegiances which are inaccurate. I think it’s best I decline the invitation to the key event and curtail my visit.”

Basically, he doesn’t want everyone finding out that, despite being liberal of mind, he’s probably a bit right-wing because the Tories look after his money better.

Right?

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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12 bar blues is a godsend for anyone who can make their way around a fretboard without ever switching their brain on. It enables bloated divs the chance to think that they can show off a little.

LOOK MAW! I DONE LEARNDID THAT GEETAW!

The Rolling Stones’ Keef Richards is a man that’s been hauling his melted ass around the world for nearly 500 years after kneeling at the altar of the blues jam and Johnny Depp has been caught jamming with the stonesman on video, pissing around with the same tired licks you’ve heard at every lousy two-bit music bar and house party.

While Depp promotes his new film, The Rum Diary, he went and strapped on a guitar after the film’s premiere and jammed at the afterparty, held at the Hiro Ballroom in Manhattan’s Maritime Hotel.

And there was the rock ‘n’ roll Mumm-Ra, Keith Richards, to help him play some awful, awful blues.

You can see the video below and it’s every bit as tedious as you imagine.

Unless, of course, you’re one of those fools who goes weak at the knees every single time any vaguely good looking man shows off his guitar skills.

You make us vomit.

Steadily.

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Oh dear GOD! SuperHeavy – the collaboration between Mick Jagger and Eurythmics founder Dave Stewart, alongside Joss Stone, Damien Marley and Oscar-winning composer A.R. Rahman, wasn’t a sick joke after all.

See, it’s obvious what’s going on here. We’re dealing with the folly of the jet set. They’ve looked at absolutely everything they like and thrown it all in the same pot.

It’s like someone offering you a plate with all your favourite food on. Imagine a mixture of fish ‘n’ chips, a hamburger, apple pie, a cup of tea, blue cheese, Coco Pops, gumbo, bacon, 4 pints of beer and a punnet of strawberries all blitzed in a blender and offered to you as something worth downing.

Ostensibly, what’s going on here is an exercise in cod-reggae. We’re experts in cod-reggae and this hums of it. What’s worse, SuperHeavy are literally throwing everything they’ve got at the project with all the subtlety of a brick being inserted into your tear duct.

Lead single, Miracle Worker, sees Damien Marley saying the word “preposterous”, while Mick ‘n’ Joss prance around like they’re Peter Andre doing Mysterious Girl. Meanwhile, Dave Stewart hides behind a beard, shades and hat combo embarrassed of being alive.

Considering Dave Stewart’s questionable musical past, that’s saying something.

If you haven’t heard it… and you almost certainly haven’t, here it is.

Fact is, in an interview with the Associated Press, Jagger reveals more horrors.

When asked about his rapping skills (yes, you read that), Jagger said:

“I was just copying Damian. I do a little bit. I went toasting, we call it, but it is the same thing. Damian was doing this really good toasting, West Indian rapping, so I thought, “I could do that. It can’t be that difficult.” It actually was quite difficult. With a bit of practice, it is all right. It is a laugh.”

Get that. Jagger. Rapping. It’s a sound that will chill you to your core. Even Mick had his concerns, which as usual, he didn’t listen to.

“I said to Dave … “Is this really stupid?”“

Yes. Yes is it. It’s an idea utterly bereft of the soul of the music you so greatly admire. Miracle Worker – as is the whole damned album – is to reggae, what a glittering yacht is, watching the slums of Kingston from a very safe distance through a telescope.

They should’ve called this project United Colours of Reggaeton.

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Celebrities have always endorsed tat to make a bit of extra coin for themselves. They’re a brazen bunch, willing to sign up to almost anything. It’s almost impressive really. They’re nakedly greedy and don’t mind showing it off.

From Iggy Pop’s dodgy insurance commercials to Chubby Checker endorsing his own beef jerky, there’s always someone trying to steal a coin from your pocket.

However, marketing and pop culture – as intertwined as they may be – don’t mix too well sometimes. This is why we’re going to have a look at some of the more peculiar celebrity endorsements.

Of course, when compiling lists such as this, there will always be omissions.

So, here’s the bit where we say: Have we missed your favourite out? If so, stop your stupid whining and tell us about it in the comments so we can all see just how brilliant you are. Okay?

Is that all cleared up now?

Should bloody think so too. Complaining swine.

Anyway, this is mere fluff, designed to wrap the text around this stupid advert we’ve got in the middle of our articles.

Let us proceed in watching some videos shall we?

Warren G Helps You With Your Erection Problems

We we heard that Nate Dogg and the G Child were in need of something eeeeelse, we didn’t know it was cock-drops, administered while the G-Funker was on the pan taking a dump. Expert advertising.

Rolling Stones Sell Cereal

Who would have ever thought that The Rolling Stones were money obsessed! It is really very surprising news for all concerned!

Mikhail Gorbachev Sells Junk Food

Oh look! The Cold War was ended by Mikhail’s fondness for pizza! And no, he hasn’t spilled a bit of the tomato base on his head, you monsters.

James Brown Sells Noodle Soup

While JB making a fast buck ain’t nothing to jerk in astonishment over, the commercial itself really is. Absolutely baffling.

Andy Warhol… well… uh…

This. This is a very strange commercial indeed.

Ringo Starr Joins The Monkees

What do you get if you cross The Beatles and The Monkees? The Byrds? Who knows? This started off as a joke, but alas, we didn’t think of a proper punchline. You’re being warned with peace and love and all that.

OJ Simpson’s Car Commercial

OJ Simpson’s most famous moment is… well… probably that bit in Naked Gun when he has an accident in a wheelchair. His second most known spot was when he went on the run from the law in a motorcar. Funny then, that he did an advert for car hire.

Dusty Flogs Bread

Possibly the greatest voice in pop gets to sing about Mothers Pride bread. Seems a bit daft. Still, not nearly as daft as when Blue sang about Mother’s Pride in their hit, ‘All Rise’.

Brad Pitt wants you to buy loads of crisps

Look! It’s Brad Pitt from Seven and Twelve Monkeys. What a fine, fine actor he is! He really gets to show his thespian skills in this Pringles spot.

Bruce Willis sells something or other

We’ve no idea what it is that Bruce is selling here, but we do know that it is both wet and dry, as well as giving Willis the ability to do a cheeky little ballet move at 0.12 in this commercial

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Ronnie Wood – a man who looks like all four faces of Mount Rushmore packed into one particularly perished melon – is of course, rock royalty. This means that, away from him mugging on-stage with The Rolling Stones, we’re supposed to care about the other aspects of his life.

So has something bad happened to Ron Wood? Well, apart from that whole midlife crisis and running off with a woman 300 years younger than him, not really.

See, his youngest son, Tyrone, has been beaten up really badly with a baseball bat while on holiday in Greece. But we’ve never heard of him before, so we can just treat it like any no-mark who has had their arse handed to them, right?

This isn’t even celebrity gossip or news. This is chat about someone related to a celebrity. Celebrity By Proxy Gossip. Doesn’t have the same ring to it does it?

Either way, because there is so little news in the world that isn’t related to the fall of the News Of The World, we have to relay this pointless fluff about some bloke’s son getting a whole barrow of whoop-ass tipped onto him.

Apparently, this attack on Ron’s son, whose name we’ve already forgotten, was so thorough, that he’s ended up with a broken arm and concussion.

The attacker must’ve been one particularly competitive Beatles fan, eh?

A source says:

“Tyrone has taken a terrible beating. He was attacked with a baseball bat. He’s OK but really shaken up by the whole incident.”

He’s okay? Jesus Christ. This is the most pointless story ever written in hecklerspray’s history. Next, we’ll be writing about Snoop Dogg having a quiet night in.

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On this day, way back in 1972, The Rolling Stones’ double LP ‘Exile On Main Street’ went to No.1 on the UK chart, and cemented ‘That Stones Sound’, aped by many, but never bettered. The legacy of ‘Exile’ can be seen in the posturing of Aerosmith and the Black Crowes, and alsoin the blues-grits of The Black Keys and more.

It seemed that it took a bunch of pasty English blokes to realise the roots of American music, to fully translate it into white longhair shorthand.

With ‘Exile’, the Stones took soul, country, blues and rock ‘n’ roll and melded them all together in a muggy soup, kicking the door in for excesses and Memphis horn-led boogles that would see the band again being taken seriously and, very very nearly falling to pieces.

Completing their contract with the thuggish Allen Klein, The Stones went about honing tracks for their new album, which they’d kept back from previous sessions. Previously, they’d been contractually forced to give Klein songs such as ‘Brown Sugar’ and ‘Wild Horses’ from the Sticky Fingers sessions.

Now, free of Klein and faced with a staggering tax bill, Mick, Keef & Co decided to become outlaws and go on the run. They left England before the government could get their hands on their assets, all settling in various parts of France. The convened in Keith Richards’ villa, Nellcôte, in Villefranche-sur-Mer to start recording in earnest.

Using the famous Mobile Recording Unit, The Stones were able to take a more lax approach to recording, not chained to a studio’s timetable, leaving the band to stay awake for days and record as they pleased, using whatever pickmeups and brain-fryers were available to them.

Of course, the band’s appetite for rhythm and blues was matched only by their fondness for getting totally fucked out of their heads.

It was during this period that Keef discovered just how much he enjoyed heroin, with thousands of dollars of the stuff disappearing into his bloodstream, aided and abetted by people such as William S. Burroughs, Gram Parsons and Marshall Chess. Such was Parsons’ penchant for getting doped-up, he was  asked to leave Nellcôte so the Stones could flex their famous work ethic.

Through the narcotic haze, the foundations were laid, with addition tracks and overdubs taking place at Sunset Sound Recorders in Los Angeles.

The disparity of the recording process, along with the band’s own private lives so a confused, muddled end-product met with mixed-reviews. Some critics complained about how filthy and unlistenable the the mixes were, sprawled out over four indulgent sides of wax. Yet, fans of the group heard something different. It was a band who may have been wrecks, which of course, only added to the soap opera of it all which would later be enjoyed by bands like Fleetwood Mac when they released ‘Rumours’, but it was a band with its guard down. This was the closest people had felt to the Stones since they disappeared into their celebrity bubble of glamorous wives, substance abuse, drug busts and private jets.

This torn and frayed (see what we did there?) long-player was too ragged and fucked-up for those who thought about it too much. To everyone else, it was immediate, loose and filled with the funk that The Stones always threatened to deliver on. The grotty, blackened fingernail production only added another element, much like the lo-fi nonsense of Sly and the Family Stone’s ‘There’s A Riot Goin’ On’.

Keef noted:

“When it came out it didn’t sell particularly well at the beginning, and it was also pretty much universally panned. But within a few years the people who had written the reviews saying it was a piece of crap were extolling it as the best frigging album in the world.”

In 2003, Jagger still wasn’t sure about the album saying:

“Exile is not one of my favourite albums… when I listen to Exile it has some of the worst mixes I’ve ever heard. I’d love to remix the record, not just because of the vocals, but because generally I think it sounds lousy.”

This mongrel of an album grew in stature, eventually being regarded as a masterpiece. However, while it may lack the finesse of ‘Pet Sounds’ or ‘Revolver’, ‘Exile’ is a snapshot of rock ‘n’ roll in transition. The blues enthusiasts were a dying breed, stepping to one side for the soul and disco kids about to take over. David Bowie was rising to the top with his skewed take on pop. ‘Exile’ was the ’60s last hurrah, being the spotty punk next to Led Zep’s stadium sized behemoth rock.

It was finally showing a Stones that were no longer concerned with their own image (ironically, in turn, creating a whole different one which Keef still leans heavily upon), throwing away the need to make that one killer single and eschewing the notion that they had to make albums for anyone other than themselves.

Richards:

“The Stones had reached a point where we no longer had to do what we were told to do. Around the time Andrew Oldham left us, we’d done our time, things were changing and I was no longer interested in hitting Number One in the charts every time. What I want to do is good shit—if it’s good they’ll get it some time down the road.”

‘Exile on Main St’ still remains the most rambling, sexy, incoherent LP made by a bunch of drunks that somehow, against all the odds, managed to find it within themselves to fire up the cylinders enough to make on of the greatest LPs ever cut to wax.

If anything, the LP is Keef’s epitaph. The last great R&B album before he passed the baton to Jagger who, save for a few moments on Goat’s Head Soup and the like, would never again capture That Stones Sound of perfect, ragged abandoned soul music.

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It is usually the reserve of pasty, fat white blokes in cord jackets and ill-fitting stonewashed demin kecks to parp on about the greatest riffs in rock. Smoke On The Water and Voodoo Chile are predictably wheeled out for the gazillionth time, leaving them sounding pedestrian and wan.

However, one riff that never fails to send your hair on end is the opening fuzz of the Rolling Stones’ ‘(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction’.

And it was on this very day, back in 1965, in a hotel room in Clearwater, Florida, that Mick Jagger and Keith Richards sat down with a newly purchased Gibson fuzz-box and worked out one of the most electrifying riffs in rock, paving the way for everyone to get in on the fuzz guitar action.

The song itself had inauspicious beginnings. Keef is on record as saying that he came up with the riff in his sleep, waking in the dead of night, recording the riff and the words “I can’t get no satisfaction” on a cheap tape recorder and promptly passing out, waking to find a recording of “two minutes of ‘Satisfaction’ and 40 minutes of me snoring.”

However, it was at the Jack Tar Harrison Hotel in Clearwater that the song really began to take shape. The song was wrestled away from its folky foundations and gravitated toward a much heavier sound.

Despite the fact Richards’ thought the song was too close to Martha Reeves and the Vandellas’ ‘Dancing In The Street’, and generally dismissing the whole thing as a bit throwaway, the track became a single and the first US number one for The Stones.

So popular was the track, and in particular the fuzz opening, that sales of the Gibson Maestro fuzzbox rocketed, with the device completely out of stock worldwide by the close of 1965.

Of course, ‘Satisfaction’ isn’t the first record to feature fuzz guitar. Many old rock ‘n’ roll records featured (largely accidental) fuzz thanks to dodgy amps. One of the earliest intentional uses of fuzz came with the thunderous ’20,000 Pound Bee’ from surf group The Ventures.

However, ‘Satisfaction’ does retain a certain magic not held by many other songs. There’s no doubt that the fuzz is part of the track’s huge appeal.

Jagger has said of the song:

“It was the song that really made The Rolling Stones, changed us from just another band into a huge, monster band… It has a very catchy title. It has a very catchy guitar riff. It has a great guitar sound, which was original at that time. And it captures a spirit of the times, which is very important in those kinds of songs… which was alienation.”

The snarling fuzz of ‘Satisfaction’ went onto influence whole swathes of underground US bands to invest in fuzzboxes. The Electric Prunes’ surprise hit, ‘I Had Too Much To Dream Last Night’ saw the group utilising overdriven guitars and becoming accidental posterboys for Vox, recording a series of radio commercials advertising pedals.

One of the best uses of fuzz is on the wonderful, sneering ‘Beg Borrow Steal’ by Mouse and the Traps who managed to make a record that sounds like you’re being mugged by hooligans in jackboots.

And, largely, it is all thanks to the global smash of ‘Satisfaction’ who popularised that now famous BZZZZ. And so, we’ll leave you with the Stones’ performing the track… but seeing as you know the original so well, we’ll sign off with a take on the track you may not have heard.

As seen in the controversial Stones’ doc, ‘Cocksucker Blues’, here’s Mick & Co performing the track with Stevie Wonder’s backing band in ’72.

God bless you fuzz guitar and all who are assaulted by it.

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10 – Like animated things? Well, this blog is a shrine to cool shorts, gifs from feature length films and all that good stuff  – FuckYeahAnimation

9 – Parrot does vaguely disappointing tricks to entertain crushingly lonely man – here

8 – Want nightmares after looking at dolls? Well, check out the Burt Reynolds Crab Thing and a swinging foetus doll  – Buzzfeed

7 – People ride a gigantic skateboard… or is it tint people on a normal one? – here

6 – Watch super rare Rolling Stones documentary for free, legally and online – Electric Roulette

5 – Want to see Norman Wisdom in a psychedelic club in the ’60s? – What’s Good For The Goose

4 – Iggy and the Stooges have the most brilliant rider in rock ‘n’ roll – Lust For Laughs

3 – Business cards are not always insultingly dull – Hongkiat

2 – Ace ’60s bubblegum wrappers with some decidedly weird looking flavours. – Booberry Alarm Clock

1 – Digital drugs? That’s the kind of thing that Chris Morris would make up right? WRONG! Yep. Over the jump is a very real news report talking about people getting high, digitally.

Some Rolling Stones facts for you: 1) The Rolling Stones have a combined age of just over three million.

2) Mick Jagger was friends with Moses. 3) Approximately 85% of The Rolling Stones is gristle, making it unlikely that they’ll ever be turned into sausages. But despite being so old that they now legitimately look like a bunch of ghost transvestites, The Rolling Stones are still refusing to split up.

The band have angrily denied Australian reports that drummer Charlie Watts will no longer tour as part of The Rolling Stones. They say that Charlie Watts’s drumming is as integral to the band’s sound as Mick’s howl, Keith’s licks and the general screeching grind of osteoporosis that can be heard whenever the three of them get together and move in unison. Or something.

The Rolling Stones aren’t a particularly pretty sight at the moment. Ronnie Wood has transformed into a sort of alcoholic, woman-beating crow. Keith Richards looks like the end result of an experiment to remake the clay bust from the Lionel Richie Hello video out of sun-dried animal scrotums. Mick Jagger increasingly looks like the rebel faction of the WI. And then there’s Charlie Watts – the member of the Rolling Stones it’s OK to not be visually appalled by.

But if rumours from Australia are to be believed, Charlie Watts might not be a member of The Rolling Stones for much longer. Reports yesterday suggested that Watts – who, to be fair, turns 69 next week – will back out from touring with the band, but will remain to record whatever half-baked, underperforming albums The Rolling Stones choose to record.

But, hey, turns out it’s all bollocks. Charlie Watts isn’t going anywhere – partly because he loves The Rolling Stones, and partly because he’s old and it hurts when he walks. NME reports:

“Contrary to a fabricated and ill informed report that appeared yesterday on a small music website in Australia, we would like to make it clear that drummer Charlie Watts has not left The Rolling Stones,” a spokesperson explained.

That’s great news! And be sure to keep checking hecklerspray – first for embarrassingly minor news about peripheral members of bands that people haven’t cared about for 30 years. Well, maybe not first as such.

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American Idol may be tired and over-long and tedious and stuffed to the brim with jarring product placement.

But it knows one thing. Despite all the criticism it receives, at least American Idol knows that there’s no worse thing on Earth than an acoustic reggae performance of Under My Thumb by the Rolling Stones. Apart from, you know, everything that Lacey Brown has ever said, done or thought.

Last night Lacey Brown became the first of American Idol‘s final 12 contestants to be sent home, after performing a version of Ruby Tuesday that sounded like she’d just pulled a tranquiliser dart from the back of her neck. So goodbye Lacey Brown – we’ll always remember you. Specifically we’ll always remember you as the woman who wasn’t even as good as an acoustic reggae version of Under My Thumb. Not a great obituary, is it?

American Idol always kicks into a higher gear when it reaches its final 12 contestants. It’s when the chaff has been removed, and what’s left are 12 glorious specimens of slightly higher-grade chaff that Simon Cowell will pretend to love more than he really does in the blind hope that he’ll use one of them to sell a few hundred thousand singles for a fortnight when the show staggers to its bloated, Coke-fuelled end.

But, alas, American Idol‘s format means that there has to be a loser each week. And this week it was Lacey Brown, who yesterday had to suffer the indignity of being eliminated first. She already has to suffer the indignity of either looking like a Sharon Osbourne action figure, an emo Anne Robinson or a drunk divorcee version of Connie Fisher, though, so at least she was already used to the bitter sting of failure.

Lacey Brown got the boot from American Idol because of her rendition of Ruby Tuesday – delivered in an gratingly cutesy way that made it sound as if a kitten had somehow got lodged in her throat and was screaming for help. However, Lacey Brown shouldn’t feel bad for a couple of reasons. First, leaving American Idol doesn’t spell the end of her singing career, as she told Ryan Seacrest after her elimination:

“I’m not going to stop singing for my fans because I love to do this. I am excited for the future.”

So she’ll be singing at least until she realises that she hasn’t actually got any fans. These will be the most exciting three hours of her life, we’re sure.

Second, Lacey Brown didn’t try to perform an acoustic reggae version of Under My Thumb like Tim Urban – henceforth known as That Idiot Tim Urban – did. That Idiot Tim Urban’s jauntily acoustic reggae version of Under My Thumb - possibly one of the most misogynistic songs ever written – was quite possibly the most staggeringly awful thing we’ve ever, ever heard at any point in our entire life. Words genuinely can’t describe how bewilderingly terrible it was. Luckily, a YouTube video can. Brace yourselves. We really mean that…

Hang on a minute… a perplexingly ill-advised misreading of a beloved song? A silly haircut? A fanbase that doesn’t quite realise how terrible he is? Jesus christ, That Idiot Tim Usher is the new Adam Lambert, isn’t he? Bugger.

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10 – The Rolling Stones did a television advert for Rice Krispies in 1963. This, somewhat unbelievably, is the truth – Mychemicaltoilet

9 – Max Branning Off EastEnders: a much-needed critical evaluation – Watchwithmothers

8 - Interestment asks: ‘what is cool?’ Some idiots sort of stutter and look confused. Excellent – Interestment

7 - A webcam of some squirrels. Warning: this may restore your faith in planet Earth - UStream

6 - Do you like drama? Do you remember MySpace? Well here’s Freak, a MySpace drama, and it actually looks quite good – MySpace

5 - Prince Of Persia either looks brilliant or rubbish. Help us decide, please – AmyGrindhouse

4 – If the internet was an agony aunt, starring some of hecklerspray – Shoutingatcows

3 - Last week we said we like Dyson and they sent us a vacuum cleaner. This week we’re saying that we like Hi-Can beds. Mmm, HI-CAN! – Hi-Can

2 - Here’s a key. It doesn’t open anything. It costs £135. We’re literally crying - Domesticsluttery

1 - A dog with eyebrows = hilarious. A dog with eyebrows on a Japanese television show = HILARIOUS…

Ladies and gentlemen, may we present Josh Burt from the staggeringly good Interestment.co.uk…

Whilst the legal implications are slight, everyone knows that copycatting is disgusting, an insult to humanity – and yet it goes completely unpunished. Every day, you probably stroll past two, perhaps three, copycats on a simple trip to a local shop for some condoms.

Well, enough is enough. We have scoured the history books, and discovered the four most despicable copycatting crimes of the last fifty years…

1 – The Rolling Stones, 1967

1967 was considered by many to be The Beatles‘ finest hour. They’d spent the preceding months going on zany psychedelic trips to find the most far-out sounds in the stratosphere, and emerged brandishing the Sergeant Pepper album. The world went totally bananas. That was July. By December, the Rolling Stones had unleashed their floppy imitation, Their Satanic Majesties Request, which came complete with songs about rainbows, and a picture on the sleeve of the bandmembers done up like Grand Wizards in the KKK sitting in a weird fairy tale kingdom. As accurate an interpretation of the hippy era as putting on a fedora and insisting you’re a cowboy.

Interestingly, it was the only album they ever produced themselves.

2 - Rocky II, 1979

On the back of the success of the first Rocky came this – exactly the same film. The first one found the moronic beefcake, played to perfection by Sly Stallone, go the distance with Apollo Creed, against the odds. At the end he loses, but he’s a winner because he tried. He starts bellowing “Adrian” from the corner of his mouth. In this one, against the odds he goes the distance against Apollo Creed, but WINS, and starts yelling something to Adrian from the corner of his mouth. By the last one, Adrian was dead. Of shame perhaps?

3 – Fame Academy, 2002

A year behind Pop Idol, and yet almost exactly the same, the BBC tried to fool everyone that Fame Academy was actually classier, because it had the word Academy in the title. And, look, it’s set in some kind of mansion. Oh, and our contestants aren’t contestants at all – they’re students. Students living in a mansion. Students who included series one winner smarmy David Sneddon, and series two winner Alex Parks, a diminutive lesbian who triumphed despite sounding precisely like a foghorn talking to a trumpet. Lemar aside, this had no redeeming features, while Pop Idol was never anything short of totally brilliant. Hang your head, so-called Mr BBC.

4 – Jodie Marsh, 1978 -

It’s hard to know where Jodie Marsh begins and ends, she is a walking amalgamation of some of the worst celebrities ever churned from the conveyor belt. She has spent years copycatting the most vile UK celebs, and has now morphed into a freakish fusion of Danielle Lloyd, Jordan, Jade Goody, and, most recently, Amy Winehouse with her sudden lust for tattoos. Only in Jodie’s case, the tatts were seemingly penned by a nervous asthmatic, working hurriedly from his garage. They’re completely awful.

Like that, did you? Then go over to Interestment immediately. Josh has got this sort of stuff coming out the wazoo.

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For years the Rolling Stones have been giving hope to the dead and the nearly dead. Not through their music – no, just in the fact that they can still get around reasonably well without having had an actual pulse in over thirty years. Seriously – its inspiring.

Get on that Lifetime.

OK, well sometimes the hope-giving is through their music. Take a man who was recently in a coma, for instance. His wife plugged some headphones into his ears, blasted I Can’t Get No Satisfaction, and then the guy’s ears started to tremble and bleed. That song does the exact same thing to us. It usually starts 1/3 into verse 1.

The guys ears didn’t really bleed – he miraculously woke up.

Nowadays whenever any of the Rolling Stones make the news, its for things like poon-jabbing a Russian bar-maid who’s so young she’s not entirely sure what communism actually is. Also they make the news for getting hit in the head with coconuts or something, getting those coconut-hit heads operated on (or something), and imbibing their parents by whatever means necessary.

No or something necessary for that last bit of sentence. Allegedly.

The Rolling Stones’ news-worthiness has just been stood on its ear. Suddenly they are famous for good reason. Suddenly they can be looked upon, not as gross and prunish, but as brave and overly-skinned.

Here’s what ContactMusic.com reports on the matter:

“The ROLLING STONES have been hailed unlikely life-savers after waking a British fan from a coma. Sam Carter lost consciousness after contracting severe anaemia but came to when his favourite Stones track, (I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction was blasted into his ears. Ironically, the single was the first the retired baker bought when he was a teenager in 1965. Carter, from Stoke, England, was given just a 30 per cent survival rate by doctors, who advised his wife Eva to play his favourite track through headphones strapped to her husband’s head. Carter says, “I suddenly had a burst of energy and knew I had a lot more life left in me and that’s when I woke up – to the sound of the first song I ever bought.”

What Contact Music didn’t tell us in there is that the man who just awoke from the coma, well he’s gonna wait until the girl Geri Halliwell woke from a coma comes of age, and then they’re gonna make ex-coma babies to the beat of an extremely mediocre soundtrack.

Incidentally, there’s a reason Contact Music didn’t tell us any of that.

A very good reason.