Accessory to musical murder U2 guitarist The Edge has been told that his proposed property development would be one of the “worst” things to happen to California in terms of environmental devastation.

The guitarist, famous for making a noise which is primarily effects with a thin, marmalade-like scraping of musical ability, had applied for permission to build a group of mansions near Malibu; the plush hangout of the rich and famous… and U2.

The friend of Bono (the guy who wears the glasses and talks too much)- whose real name is Audley Hedgerow – had made a proposal to construct five mansions overlooking Malibu rejected by the California Coastal Commission. Despite making reassurances that the venture would be environmentally-friendly, The Edge’s plans were rejected out of hand due to its impact on the ecosystem in the area.

After turning down the scheme by a vote of 8-4, the commission’s executive director Peter Douglas said:

“In 38 years of this commission’s existence, this is one of the three worst projects that I’ve seen in terms of environmental devastation. It’s a contradiction in terms — you can’t be serious about being an environmentalist and pick this location.”

The commission cited the effects on habitat, land formation, scenic views and water quality as their reason for refusing the project. In spite of this, The Edge is not a massive hypocrite. We must bear that in mind. We must remember that this is a man who is in an awful rock band with noted humanitarian and all-round irritant Bono. How could he possibly be a hypocritical idiot with more focus on the contents of his wallet (which is carried around Malibu on the back of a Sherpa) than the potential impact on the environment? Remember? Bono!

Despite numerous recommendations from various agencies recommending that the project be rejected out of hand, the Coastal Commission admit that they expect the matter to end up in the courts. It’s America. No-one’s litigious in America, so the shock that some Irishman with a collection of guitars- that if laid out in a line would stretch to the moon- might appeal the decision has come as a massive shock to the Californian press.

The Edge – was has fought since 2006 to receive permits for the proposal – had hired prominent lobbyists and promoted the development as environmentally-friendly in a bid to earn approval using the ill-gotten gains of selling millions of albums to idiots with no taste.

Last year, Malibu Mayor Pro Tem Jefferson Wagner lambasted the proposals, insisting the development would be out of character for the area. He said:

“This is not what Malibu is about. These kind of places are ego run riot.”

Yeah… that’s completely unlike Malibu.

Bono is thought to have suggested that The Edge build a wind farm out at sea and live in the turbine of one of the giant structures, only venturing out to harvest the organic cress that sustains his ‘creative energy’ and, of course, to join U2 on one of their ceaseless, over-priced stadium tours which they fly to in Earth murdering jumbo jets fuelled by Ethiopians woe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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The best thing about being super-rich is that, rather than let governments decide how to spend your tax, you can just keep hold of it, then donate some to a groovy cause, whilst getting baskets of praise and verbal fellatio for making a really exciting thing happen.

Imagine a world where we could all do that! We would look dead nice from giving money to AIDS kids, earthquake orphans and publicity-hungry slag animals. Like polar bears. The furry whores.

We wouldn’t have to worry about our money helping to provide rehabilitation for murderers and young offenders.

A single mum needs a house to live in because she keeps shitting out the next generation of ASBO collectors? Let me just ring my publicist and see if we can help. He says it’s definitely on if the babies are Chinese, otherwise he can arrange for her to sell her story to The Sun.

She can earn a few bob if she doesn’t mind being vilified in a full-page special about how much she’s costing the taxpayer. Except she’s not! Because we’re not paying tax anymore! We’re philanthropists and society’s been privatised! So, everyone’s a winner!

Paying tax is a moral duty and no-one ever thanks you for doing your duty, they thank you for presents! That’s why absent dads who turn up drunk every two years clutching an Optimus Prime and a mountain bike are the best kinds of father to have!

In entirely unrelated news, we’d just like to say thanks a bunch to U2 for giving 5 million Euros to expand a pilot scheme across Ireland so that thousands of youngsters can learn to play a musical instrument. The scheme will give an estimated 10,000 youngsters the opportunity to play music for a living or even just to open their eyes to the beauty of creating.

This is all due to their generosity and a further 2 million Euros from something called the Ireland Funds. Don’t worry about them though, they didn’t even go through a cowboy-hat phase in the late-eighties so they have nothing to teach us.

And don’t be churlish about this news – they don’t have to give you or your children anything, and the only reason they have to publicise it is to shut all those cynics up anyway. So hecklerspray says good on yer, U2!

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It seems apt that jewel encrusted charity muggers, U2 look likely to be headlining the Glastonbury festival this year. Both of these corporations really care about the Earth and poverty, maaaan… despite creating a city’s worth of pollution and showing ghastly displays of wealth every time they roll into town.

Of course, U2 are being coy about it all, as are the Glastonbury organisers. With the latter, we go through this song and dance every year, where they tease everyone with rumours and shrugs about who might play at the festival, before unveiling a staggeringly conservative line-up.

U2 are telling fans to keep an eye out, with manager Paul McGuinness, saying: “We’re certainly excited about our plans for next year. Watch this space!” The band are also advising fans to buy tickets to Glastonbury 2011, despite the fact they have already sold out.

Earlier this year, U2 were forced to cancel their Glastonbury headline slot after Bono suffered a serious back injury (presumably from trying to carry the weight of the world’s problems) during rehearsals.

The band said that they were “heartbroken” at not being able to play The Most Overrated Music Event In The World, while Glastonbury organiser Michael Eavis furrowed his little upside down face and mewed that the band could come back any time they liked.

That looks like it’s going to be this year. If you’ve got a ticket, lucky you.

A post on U2.com reads:

“Looking at the tour dates – there is a gap in the band’s schedule ahead of the East Lansing show on June 26th, which would make the Friday night a possibility.”

If you’re wondering where that is, it’s in Michigan in The States, which means that, should U2 make the gig, they’ll probably use enough fuel to choke a million penguins to death with their evil, black plume of travel emissions.

It’s okay though. U2 tell people to join Amnesty International in their sleeve notes, so that’s cancelled that out then.

Michael Eavis spoke to the Guardian:

“Nothing’s fully confirmed yet. We’re obviously planning all sorts of things. The three headliners will be incredibly impressive – absolutely fantastic – I can guarantee that. It’ll be on a par with this year, and possibly slightly better.”

Glastonbury takes place in Pilton on 22-26 June 2011, so start tearing your ears off now, just to be on the safe side. If anyone asks why, tell them it’s more about the experience, maaan.

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Tooth-sized phallus, Bono, is probably swimming in his room of coins right now while he waits for The Edge to finish making his 500 ft tribute to Barbara Cartland made out of diamonds, saffron and black printer ink.

Oh, not to mention also having the audacity to expect people like us, who earn about 6 pence an hour, to cough up our meagre incomes into the hands of whichever plight they’ve aligned themselves with when they woke up this morning. And we know Bono & Co. are rich because Forbes have released their rich-list of musicians which, for the most part, is a list of artistes so dull that you might need to staple your eyeholes open just to get through it.

Over the past 12 months, U2 have been raking it in, earning an outrageous £84.9m. If you believe the rumours, most of that tootles off to some offshore account in Holland, which probably has cheque books made from African children’s woe.

What’s all the more staggering is that U2 have managed to be so obscenely wealthy right in the middle of Bono throwing a massive sickie from work. You may recall that they pulled out of a load of shows because tiny little Bono hurt his tiny little back whilst lifting up giant sacks filled with coins and treasure.

So who else makes the list? Well, it really is a Dadrock affair, with ageing tune-murderer Bruce Springsteen making an appearance alongside AC/DC – a band that must have the sickest groupies in the world (how else can you explain a bunch of women willing to fellate a man dressed up as a schoolboy?).

Dreary Coldplay with their Little Book of Calm Lyrics find themselves in the richlist also, earning as many pennies as the Black Eyed Peas.

Most relevant to the charts is Lady GaGa, who’s bagged a healthy wage from making monstrous pop hits whilst creating something of a one-woman freak show.

And no list would be complete without a token mercenary country singer who most people in Britain have never heard of. Kenny Chesney. Yeah. Him.

Here’s the entirely pointless list of people with more money than you.

Top 10

1. U2 £84.9m

2. AC/DC £74.5m

3. Beyonce Knowles £56.8m

4. Bruce Springsteen: £45.7

5. Britney Spears £41.8m

6. Jay-Z £41.1m

7. Lady Gaga £40.5m

8. Madonna £37.9m

9. Kenny Chesney £32.6m

10. Black Eyed Peas/Coldplay £31.3m

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Who’s the most dangerous celebrity? Which fiend of myth wields the most power?

Cheryl Cole/Tweedy/Whatever? She’s only beaten up one toilet attendant, and that’s nothing for a Northern Girl, Cheryl Weedy more like. Russell Crowe? Well, there’s his terrible band with the terrible name and he can throw a mean phone, but that’s nothing new. Just ask Naomi Campbell.

No, it’s none of these monsters of legend – it’s Oprah. Oprah has just won the title of ‘officially the most powerful celebrity it the world’. And she won it with an elbow takedown in the fifth round, apparently.

Songs will be written about her, and her legend will live down the ages in poetry and music.  According to legend, she has hands of pure stone with which to smash your stupid face, her thighs are made of the finest brass that resound with a mighty bass ringing when she walks, her nose opens and fires out heat-seeking missiles (as did Michael Jackson’s, he just filled it with a sleeping-gas delivery system and ended up overusing it. Now you know). Frankly, Oprah could probably kill you with just her hair.

Just think, this time last year we were living under the yoke of Angelina Jolie and her multi-ethnic army of children, idyllic times. However, it seems as though the house of Jolie has waned with the lack of fresh orphan blood, and the house of Oprah has risen like a lardy hawk and she has waged much war to take the jewelled crown in what was undoubtedly an awe-inspiring and bloody conflict. The BBC reports from the battlefield:

US TV host Oprah Winfrey has been named the most powerful celebrity in the world by Forbes magazine. Winfrey knocked film star Angelina Jolie off the top spot of Forbes’s annual Celebrity 100 list, which is based on earnings and media exposure.

Oh, so it’s just some poxy back-slapping exercise where net worth is considered in terms of how much you can bang on about your weight-gain on your network chat show, and not about the ease at which you could crush a solid ice sculpture of a lighthouse in your mighty fist? Well, that’s much less exciting.

You know what they should do? Stick ‘em all on a remote island and let them scrap it out, Battle Royale style. I mean just look at the Top Ten, surely Oprah wouldn’t stand a chance? Let’s run down:

10. Madonna – Well, she is quite wirey, but one good punch would probably split her parchmenty, aged skin. Oprah’s got the stones to take that. Lose.

9. Johnny Depp – He’s basically a very effeminate girl. Lose.

8. Sandra Bullock – Good for bluffing her attacks, what with her not being about to move her skin about at all, but then again there’s probably a loss of motor function that comes with that. Lose.

7. U2 – it’s four on one, but Bono will probably sack off the fight to fight climate change in his private jet or something, and no one is really sure the other three actually exist and aren’t just holographic leftovers from the Zoo TV tour. Lose.

6. Britney – Where do you start? Lose.

5. Tiger Woods – Not unless he knobbed her to death (which is quite possible, granted). Lose.

4. Lada Gaga – Are you kidding? She can’t even stand upright. Lose.

3. James Cameron – Frail, elderly man who looks like a creepy lesbian aunt? Oprah literally eats people like that for breakfast. Lose.

2. Beyonce – Apart from the arse, a light snack for the beast that it Oprah. Lose.

Huh, looks like Oprah is the most powerful celebrity in the world, well done Forbes. Let’s hope the reign is a benevolent one. All hail Oprah!

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Poor old Bono – he can end poverty, but he can’t jig about in front of some muddy idiots for an hour.

It’s Bono’s back. It’s not very well. Everyone had been really excited about seeing U2‘s headlining set at Glastonbury – because if you’re going to spend a weekend developing trench foot surrounded by thousands of hat-wearing bastards and godawful Legal High salesmen in a massive field in the middle of nowhere in a non-stop apocalyptic rainstorm, you may as well go all out and make sure that you have a really crap time – but now Bono has hurt his back and it’s never going to happen.

Incidentally, Bono is said to be heartbroken about cancelling Glastonbury. So that’s his back and his heart buggered up. Let’s go for legs next, please. Legs or nose. Either’s fine.

It’s not really a surprise that Bono has hurt his back – he’s spent so many years running around onstage and shouting and shadowboxing to himself to compensate for the fact that he’s only about four inches tall that it was bound to give out at some point. But for it to happen right before U2′s highly-anticipated Glastonbury headline set is just bad luck.

But that’s just how it goes sometimes – after injuring himself during a tour rehearsal, Bono has undergone spinal surgery and been told to rest up for two months. The news is bound to disappoint fans who only bought Glastonbury tickets in order to see U2. That’s assuming that those people still have the mental ability to feel disappointment  – the fact that they wanted to see U2 perform live despite their rubbish last album would suggest otherwise.

But anyway, they won’t be as disappointed as Bono, who told The Sun:

“I’m heartbroken. We wanted to do something special. We even wrote a new song for the festival.”

It’s very sad news – and a timely reminder that even gods can be mortal sometimes. Sorry, that was a typo – we meant that it was a timely reminder that even men with crippling god complexes can be mortal sometimes. Yes, that’s better.

But now speculation is rife over who will now perform U2′s headling Glastonbury set – after all, replacing one of the biggest bands in the world will be almost impossible. So far it’s been claimed that Michael Eavis could persuade Led Zeppelin to reform, while The Rolling Stones are also a possibility because – thanks to the Exile On Main Street reissue – they’re also more relevant than they’ve been in decades. So with that in mind, it seems fairly obvious that U2′s replacement will actually be Jamie Cullum. Or N-Dubz. Mark our words.

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Festivals are brilliant. Standing in fields, listening to music out of ropey speakers, complaining about being covered in mud and spending £10 on organic hemp burgers. Perfect.

What you want for your money is a magical experience where you get to enjoy bands you like, discover weird stuff like Brazilians who compose songs off radiators and occasionally get off your face on booze. Glastonbury 2010 should theoretically be one of the best festivals of all time. Why? Because it’s the 40th anniversary of the festival. Shame it’s going to be ruined by U2.

Well we say, U2. We mean Bono.

In the olden days, before people had mobile phones, U2 actually made music. Actually, to be fair they still do this. But back in times where the world was in black and white, they were considered to be good. The success of the band subsequently created an egotistical monster in the form of Bono. Sometimes the self-obsessed twat can’t get through doors as his own opinion inflates him that much. And now they’re playing Glastonbury.

When U2 hit the pyramid stage at Glastonbury, we can guarantee a few things. Firstly, nobody under the age of 30 will be there to see them. Nobody young trendy will want to be seen anywhere near them. U2 make music for dads to blast out of their cars while onlookers point and snigger. They’ll either be left performing to bemused security staff or farm animals that have been drafted in to make up the numbers.

But wait – this could actually be a warped blessing in disguise. Remember that Bono personally knows half the world’s population. Every time there’s a crisis or photo opportunity, you’ll see the Irishman there. He knows which world leaders, clergymen and other musicians to be seen with. Perhaps he’s cooking up something special gor Glastonbury. Festival founder Michael Eavis backs our wild theory up by telling The Guardian:

“The 26-year-old rumour has finally come true. At last, the biggest band in the world are going to play the best festival in the world,” he said. “Nothing could be better for our 40th anniversary party.”

Using his wealth of celebrity mates, Bono could make the Glastonbury gig a special one-off show that’ll blow everyone else out the water. Think about it. The Catholic church has gotten all pissy about Madonna using crosses in her shows before. So imagine the look on everyone’s face when The Pope emerges from a burning cross before breaking in to a frenzied guitar solo with The Edge. It’ll be OK if God’s best mate actually does it. The Guardian again reports:

“Eavis had promised something special for Glastonbury’s 40th anniversary, and in booking a band who have been rumoured to headline every year since the mid-1980s, he has not disappointed. The ebullient 74-year-old said the news had been a long time coming.”

Ballsacks, we’re so pumped up about this that we forgot there aren’t any tickets left for Glastonbury 2010. Either a kind PR company will let us go and experience the spectacle, or it’ll be the borefest that most people believe it’ll be. A two-hour lecture from Bono about how we should have donated the ticket money to starving Africans or drowning penguins. Fun.

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Do you like facts? Well it just so happens that we have one that will not only enlighten your day, but that of your friends and family.

Take Bono’s name and remove the b, n and one of the o’s. With the singular o add a G in front of it and the letter d after the o. What does this give you? A complicated sentence and the word God.

You see this is what Bono is, God. He is able to do anything. From releasing crap record after crap record to saving the world, Bono does it all! After whoring out U2 to Apple and the iPod campaign, he has now turned to bloody Blackberry.

There are a few errors in this clip. Let us point them out:

1 – There isn’t a choir of African children singing the chorus to the song in the advert in their native tongue. You’d think they’d be thankful for the U2-branded iPod’s and Irish-grown potatoes.

2 – Those circular balls of light should be replaced with bullets, let’s see him dodge those. That’s just to prove he’s superhuman.

3 – It isn’t possible for a gathering of that size for people to see U2. Yes, we know morons congregate in numbers, but there can’t be that amount of people who like U2. From the advert, you’d assume every Irish person had to attend a gig as part of national service.

With Bono dragging the band into more advertising, we’d like to propose our plans for a U2-based advert. Using our new and exciting mobile phone, we aim to launch the product ‘shit for brains telecommunication device’. Here, we have launched something so simple that even a pensioner could navigate the handset with ease.

The campaign is simple. We need a celebrity to munch on a plate of poo, replacing their human brains for poo. We should bloody go into advertising. Bono, can you help us out?

This is a public service announcement. U2 are about to tour their new album. Please seek shelter immediately, and may God have mercy on our souls.

In news which people who like music are describing as “Oh God, really? That’s just awful, is there any way we can stop this? A petition or something? Anything?”, U2 have announced the details of their upcoming tour, during which they are expected to play U2 music while singing U2 lyrics. If that sounds like your cup of tea, then we can only assume you like drinking tea made from poison ivy leaves, with skunk sperm instead of milk and cat dander instead of sugar.

U2 are terrible, is what we’re saying.

Made your summer holiday plans yet? If not, you might want to wait a day or two, because U2 are about to give advance warning of where they will be, and when, over the next eighteen months. And if there’s one thing worse than being in a city full of French people, it’s being in that city while knowing that at any moment Bono‘s limousine might go speeding past, and that if the windows aren’t tinted enough you may catch a glimpse of his wizened face looking at you with undisguised disgust, as though you were punching a kitten.

Believe us, we’ve been there. And we had to take our eyeballs out and boil them in bleach for an hour to get rid of the image.

It’s been a funny start to the year for U2 news, with the leaking of their new album, their involvement in a musical about Spiderman and their decision to make a reggae album. We suspect they may be going a little bit crazy, actually; there can be no other explanation for this bucketload of horsewank from The Edge, as told to MSNBC:

“There’s such a special thing that goes on between the band and the audience at a U2 show, and we never get tired of that. It’s like a kind of semireligious experience for the band, and I think for the audience, too.”

Yes, U2 believe that watching some middle-aged pubrockers jump out of a giant lemon and then nonce around on stage for a couple of hours is on a par with being overcome by the awesome majesty and supreme love of God. We would disagree, and suggest that it is in fact on the same level as having a cheese grater rubbed across your brain while the Miami Dolphins punting team holds a practice session with your testicles.

But The Edge goes on:

“For a lot of people it’s the soundtrack of their lives.”

There are people for whom U2 is their life’s soundtrack? If that were us, we’d be sticking little twigs down our ears, trying to pull our eardrums out. But hey, whatever floats your boat.

Although if we were on a sinking boat and were told that, oddly, the only way to stop ourselves from drowning was to invite U2 on board, we’d be slashing the lifejackets with a stanley knife, grabbing hold of anything heavier than water and leaping over the side.

U2 are rubbish, do you see?

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The world is split into two: those who don’t think U2 experiment enough, and those who have working brains.

If you’re in the second group, start digging your bunker now. It’s been reported that U2 aren’t content to limit their experimentalism to simply releasing grammatically-incorrect concept albums about footwear – they’re bringing out a reggae album soon, too.

A terrible idea, we know, but it’ll be worth it when U2 tour. You don’t see 50-year-old Irish midgets follow up impassioned IRA songs by saying “This next song’s called Demma Bad Bwoi Duppy Man Ting (Irie Pussyclot Ting),” too often, do you?

Look, we started this short-hair Bono thing for a bit of fun – we said that when Bono’s got long hair U2 release best-selling anthems about the enduring hope at the core of the human condition, but when he’s got short hair they release crap that sounds like it was stolen from an EMF B-side – but it’s becoming clear that the whole thing’s got beyond a joke now.

The first sign was U2′s Get On Your Boots single, in that it sounds like a novelty grunge cover of We Didn’t Start The Fire and that Bono’s look for its promotion seems to be based on Johnny Vegas‘ dad. And then we found out that the U2 Spider-Man musical wasn’t the cruel wind-up that we suspected it to be.

But now? Now we’ve really entered the world of nightmares. Previously the worst of U2′s zany excesses involved emerging onto stages through giant glittery lemons, but now they’ve shot so far past it that it’s unreal – U2 have recorded a reggae album. And, get this, they’re actually going to release it. News Of The World reports:

It’s a Beautiful Day when I can dish out the biggest goss from inside the U2 camp – the boys have secretly recorded a brand new reggae/dub album. The supergroup recorded the album in secret during the sessions for cracking new disc, No Line On The Horizon, and they’ll unleash it onto the world at the start of next year.

You know what this means. It means that U2 have run out of ideas to such an alarming extent that they’ve now been reduced to ripping off Paris Hilton. What an upsetting state of affairs.

But, come on now, let’s not make this news make us too depressed, shall we? Dwell on the thought of Bono poncing around a stage in a dreadlocked wig singing about Babylon and Haile Selassie and correct dutchie-passing etiquette in a borderline racist Desmond’s accent for too long and you’ll probably end up hurling yourself under the nearest train.

Because there are positives to this as well, you know. For instance, since dub reggae isn’t really known for its lyrics, there’s a pretty good chance that the new U2 album won’t feature Bono prattling on about his shimmering cities of uplifting emotions like a weird Gollumy mid-life crisis motivational speaker too much.

And, best of all, once U2 have released this album people can start to go back to not liking them very much again. And thus the world restores its balance.

Read more:

U2′s Secret New Album – News Of The World

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You heard it once and thought it was a good joke; you heard it again and thought it was a bad joke, and now it’s true.

The U2 Spider-Man musical is happening. Despite being the weirdest thing ever been announced, the Spider-Man Broadway musical – with music by U2′s Bono and The Edge – will open in New York next January.

That’s right – the Spider-Man musical is by Bono and The Edge. But don’t worry about the other two – Adam Clayton and Larry Mullen Jr will be debuting their new Condorman musical next February outside the Basingstoke branch of Clinton’s Cards. At 4am. Drunk.

Dear God, this new U2 album is going to be worse than anyone could have possibly imagined. As we’ve already stated, No Line On The Horizon is a short-hair Bono album – which means there are less uplifting songs about shimmering cities and more woeful dirges that sound like We Didn’t Start The Fire but are exclusively about footwear. But this short-hair Bononess goes even deeper.

It also extends to members of U2 writing songs about superheroes. The last time U2 did this, they wrote Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me for that cacky Val Kilmer Batman film and it was horrible. And now they’re at it again, this time putting together an entire Broadway musical based on Spider-Man.

This isn’t news in itself – we reported on the U2 Spider-Man musical back in 2007 – but what is news is that a) the thing actually exists and wasn’t just a cruel prank to drive the weak-minded to the brink of suicide and b) it’s going to open on Broadway in less than a year. Really. Newsday reports:

With new music and lyrics by Bono and The Edge, and direction by Julie Taymor (“The Lion King”), “Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark” will begin previews Jan. 16. (The subtitle is the name of one of the show’s songs.) Members of the creative team include choreographer Daniel Ezralow, set designer George Tsypin (“The Little Mermaid”) and costume designer Eiko Ishioka (opening ceremonies for the Beijing Olympics).

Wow, this Spider-Man musical is going to be spectacular. We don’t know about you, but the costumes were the best bit of the Beijing Olympic opening ceremony. Not the million drummers drumming in perfect synchronicity. Not the bit where the man ran around the side of the stadium with a flaming torch. Not the bit with the magical floating dust that formed a giant version of the Olympic rings. The costumes. If we could remember what they looked like, we’re sure they’d be ace.

Anyway, the Spider-Man musical is going to be one of the most expensive in history, so there’s a chance it’ll be a major success and go on to be U2′s enduring legacy, like Mamma Mia is for Abba. Who knows, it might even equal the success of Mamma Mia and get turned into a Mamma Mia-style movie.

After all, if we have to remember Bono at all, we’d like it to be by the way he had a bunch of his hokey songs absolutely massacred by Pierce Brosnan‘s foghorn voice. It’d be better than Spider-Man 3, anyway.

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In these uncertain economic times, even 40-year-old supermarket deputy managers with ponytails and halitosis are turning to internet piracy for their music.

Paul McGuinness, U2‘s manager, has been crying angry little tears in recent days, as all his careful planning for his band’s new album’s spolier-free release has been ruined by… well, by whatever kind of deviant it is who would not only spend time and effort trying to obtain pre-release files of a U2 album, but would then want to infect innocent peoples’ ears with it.

Sicko.

Hecklerspray dreams about making the world a better place. Homelessness, for example, solved by inviting everyone with nowhere to sleep to spend the night huddled together in Gordon Ramsay‘s facial crags. The pain of poverty eased by allowing each of the world’s poorest people thirty seconds to suckle on Salma Hayek‘s titties.

This last one came true recently, and we may be about to score again. Our dream where U2 are forced into penury – and have to scavenge through our dustbins trying to find some scraps for their tea – has taken a step closer to becoming fact. And happily, it’s the people that love them most who are causing the impending catastrophe. Sweet!

U2′s latest album – we would’ve looked for the title, but were afraid that just reading it might cause our eyeballs to jump out of their sockets and run away screaming – has found its way onto filesharing websites and has, in news we can only describe as ‘making us weep for the human race’, been downloaded 100,000 times.

This despite unprecedented high security which included: moving the mastertapes around in armoured cars, allowing any single journalist to listen to just three notes from each track then sealing up their earholes with molten lead; and throwing would-be thieves off the scent by employing hundreds of toothless old men to put on fake Irish accents and oversized sunglasses, and wander the country at random.

How could such hardcore security have been breached? The Sydney Morning Herald reveals all:

Full CD-quality copies of every song on U2′s upcoming album, No Line On The Horizon, have been leaked on to the web after Universal Music Australia accidentally put it up for sale on its online music store two weeks early. The album – U2′s 12th – goes on sale on March 3 but it was available to download for a brief period this week on getmusic.com.au, run by Universal Music Australia. Universal Music Australia did not respond to calls asking how the track went up for sale early.

Probably because their executives were chained up in The Edge‘s basement while Bono gibbered and shrieked at them like a rabid monkey, and The Drummer and The Bassplayer stood around looking a bit sheepish about the whole thing.

Call us hard-hearted (Really, go ahead. It’s a congenital condition), but we won’t be shedding tears when U2 find themselves penniless through the actions of their own fans. In fact, it would amuse us hugely if Bono was reduced to knocking on front doors in Africa, asking for ‘just a cup of rice. Come on, I gave you that massive sackful in 1985, remember?’

This is only the second time we have ever been amused by U2-related nonsense. Please, be upstanding for Mr Partridge.

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