Take That’s Prodigal Son and Stoke’s most irritating son Robbie Williams has been waking up in the night covered in a liquid that isn’t his own urine according to The Daily Star. In an interview with Britain’s least believable paper, Williams prophesied that he might be a target for terrorists because he’s so completely important.
The egotist, who recently returned to the warming, Northern embrace of his former Take That, has been having trouble sleeping recently and instead of taking a Night Nurse and keeping his massive flapping trap shut, he decided to give an “exclusive” to a woeful Red Top.
Luckily, he’s been having dreams that even Joseph & His Technicolour Fraud Coat wouldn’t have any trouble analysing.
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And here we are again. You all look so incredibly tired.
So before we begin, let’s really think to ourselves – what do we really WANT from episode 2 of The X Factor 2011? Because so far, nobody has really got what they want, have they? Nobody really voluntarily asks for Kelly Rowland, for example. Nobody really wants Gary Barlow to be angry to them before 9pm.
Hopefully this week, things will change for the better. We would like to see integrity. We would like to see a jazz singer sing an ironic version of She Wolf. We would like to see at least three testicles. But most importantly, we would like X Factor to bring us a window of entertainment that preceeds an ENTIRE EVENING with Will Young, preferably singing low-key versions of his amazing selection of pop hits, preferably in a tuxedo. Hey. What can we say? We dare to dream.
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Take That are bunch of drips, aren’t they? If they’re not gyrating around in front of millions of middle-aged women or complaining about press intrusion in effete Northern accents, they’re having little panic attacks about getting felt up by giant robots. Or something like that.
Their latest woe has come in the form of a little bit of lightning which gave the lads the heebie-jeebies when their tour plane was lightly struck by it ahead of the start of the European leg of their Progress tour. Oh no! Did they survive the ordeal?!
Of course they did.
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Once upon a time, bands and artists were nominated for musical awards based on the merit of the audio they committed to LPs. Now, it seems that you can predict the nominees for ceremonies months in advance. Lady Gaga could release an album where she tapes herself constructing a shelf. It could sell bugger-all, but if a good marketing campaign backs it up, then some idiot will buy it.
Hooray for the humble PR team, the people who are paid to promote artists and generate advertising for them at inappropriate times – such as Take That on every single TV show and advert when opportunity becomes available.
Given that, let us offer our worthless opinion for this year’s nominations that had a great marketing team, appeared at festivals or featured in trashy magazines.
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For some inexplicable reason, some people look toward popstars as some kind of bastion of good. Really, our singers and songwriters are court jesters, there to entertain us with song, dance and, with any luck, their private lives.
Probably the main reason for 99% of young men getting into music is to have sex with people. Of course, they tell you that they want to make an artistic statement, but really, the closest thing they get to that is expressionist smears and wet-patches on various hotel bedsheets.
And so, it comes as absolutely no surprise that another popper has been accused of sticking his wang up a lady’s front garden when perhaps he shouldn’t. The surprise is, is that it’s Take That’s lisping thrust-machine, Howard Donald. Read More >>>
The trouble with asking any question with “Did you know…?” is that you’ll always get a smart-arse that says “I did actually, yes,” before you’ve even finished your sentence. Suffice to say, these articles are aimed at those that don’t so they can coo “Oooh! That’s interesting!”
And so, today’s unknown covers special looks at Take That. The boys did a few cover versions in their time – some improving the original, some almost identical… and one in particular, so woeful that you’ll wish humans had never evolved ears.
Even if you have one of Britain’s most talented pop-song writers on board, you can still find time to take someone else’s song… and in the case of Take That, turn them into gigantic hits. Read More >>>
When Robbie Williams left Take That, the news was so seismic that a rubbish punk band called The Pin Ups wrote a song about it called ‘Robbie Left Take That’. It wasn’t long before Take That called it a day and This Morning had an all-morning grieve-in for people who didn’t realise that the band’s departure didn’t mean their CDs would self-destruct.
And then, after Gary Barlow and Mark Owen’s solo careers fizzled out, Robbie began to conquer the world… except for America which broke him in two, leaving him bloated and dead-eyed.
This all lead to a very successful Take That reunion and then eventual offering of an olive branch to Robbie Williams, currently of no fixed talent. Read More >>>
Married heterosexual men in their thirties were last night wondering why the sofa smelt of piss.
The smell appeared shortly after the news the news that Take That are to release a new album written and performed with overrated supper-club entertainer Robert ‘Robbie’ Williams.
“It’ll be just like the old days!” said one 37-year-old disappointed housewife desperate for 45 minutes escape from the crushing inevitability of her life married to an imbecile who wears a high-vis jacket for a living and who really REALLY wished she could be seventeen again just for a second and do everything differently.
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