Years ago, a smarter scribe than this wrote of ‘air-conditioner music’, which is to say, music stopped putting something into a room and instead, started trying to remove it. And removing everything out of a room, apart from the earless saps who buy it, is Lana Del Rey, the most tepid popstar in history.
She’s Dido, only NME approved.
And Lana doesn’t really like music. Why should she? She’s a spoiled little rich girl who doesn’t have to worry about striving to make great art or towering pop. In fact, so insincere is Del Rey that she’s constantly thinking about walking away from music. She simply can’t be bothered.
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By now the haze of Christmas parties is bound to have worn off and you’ll be sitting there with nothing to show from the festive period but a photocopy of your genitals and an unplanned pregnancy; you’re probably looking back on the month or so preceding this and thinking, “Where did it all go wrong?”
That’s simple. You’re one of these people who gets so excited about the concept of Christmas that you vomit all over your facebook with excitement the first time you see that terrible Coca Cola advert.
SO YOU’VE PROBABLY ALREADY GUESSED THAT I’M GOING TO RUB IT IN YOUR FACE WHILE YOU RUB YOURSELF AND WONDER IF YOU MIGHT HAVE CRABS.
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Jessie J has torn a strip or two off all those people who dared to question the quality on prime time TV’s second favourite show, The X Factor. On which she was awful. Not even a tiny bit awful like this week’s reject, Janet Devlin.
It was worse than if Whitney Houston’s coked almost of existence performance had sexy love bumps with Robbie Williams’ X Factor attempt, died and made Britney Spears’ Womanizer performance its legal guardian.
It was that bad.
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When we make lists, they’re usually pretty easy to do. You just take your own opinion of something, prioritise it and throw it in an article without giving the consequences much thought. As such, we still have people arguing the toss (pun intended) over our ‘Top’ Sci-Fi babes & newscasters.
Of course, some lists aren’t that easy to come up with and require rigorously observed criteria in order to make them acceptable for the delicate eyes of our readers.
Our quest was long and arduous but we got there in the end.
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Larry David, the man who’s brought us partially ad-libbed cringe comedy for the last THREE HUNDRED YEARS has told ESPN New York that he is still having fun filming Curb Your Enthusiasm. This statement flies in the face of criticism from some corners of the press which suggest that the show has lost its way.
David, responsible for being part of the team that brought us the equally diabolical Seinfeld, in which unlikeable cockhorse Jerry Seinfeld jogged through life in (admittedly wonderful) trainers while making bland observations about everyday occurrences.
This was all while his equally neurotic friends jogged their way miserably through their own lives, somehow finding them enriched by Jerry’s incessant bland observations.
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When E4 had eventually grown tired of showing endless repeats of Friends and Scrubs, the channel eventually spat out its own unique programming, aimed at the sort of person that hecklerspray writers aren’t; the young, the cool, the hip and the trendy. Arseholes, basically.
On one end of the spectrum, there was Skins, a programme which captured everyone’s dream college lifestyle, in a show which frequently used drugs, booze and sex, but portrayed them in the most extreme way to great effect.
Skins was escapism for most whilst The Inbetweeners offered a firmer dose of reality, especially for hormonal teenage boys. These are the sort of people who couldn’t quite make that move from fingering a girl to using an empty packet of Space Raiders as a makeshift condom when that first awkward sexual experience arrived.
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Last night on the Apprentice it was all-out war. About biscuits. Yes, that’s right, those little snacks that you dunk in your cup of tea were enough to inspire vitriolic hatred of hecklerspray proportions. We’re almost proud.
It turns out that biscuits are a very serious thing. So serious that Lord Sugar felt the need to interrupt a nice Sunday evening at the Apprentice house to make an ominous entrance and demand that his minions make him shiny new biscuits to pitch to some supermarkets. Of course, he had to reorganise said minions first, so Helen, Jim and Natasha became Venture, whilst Zoe, Susan, Melody and Tom formed Logic.
And then the fighting began.
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Last night’s Apprentice was the filthiest yet. It turns out that Natasha wants everyone to blow their loads, which frankly is a mental image that hecklerspray could do without. Especially the image of Tom. He looks like he’d probably cry, and nobody ever needs to see that. We might need therapy just to get over the thought of it. Lots and lots of therapy.
Thankfully the filth wasn’t just there to disturb us. No, it was filth in the name of publishing. And we don’t mean the stuff that’s hidden on the top shelf. We mean the free magazines that annoying people shove in your face on the way to work in the morning, which are apparently called “freemium” magazines. That’s a horrible term though, so we won’t be using it ever again.
Before he let the contestants loose on the publishing world though, Lord Sugar had to make a scary entrance and re-jig the teams again. Jim got moved over to Venture, whilst Leon took over his spot at Logic. It seemed a pointless move, but then Lord Sugar announced from his ominous looming spot that he wanted Natasha and Jim to be project managers. Which is where the filth came in.
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