There are loads of reasons to be proud of being British. An army of lads taking over an Eastern European capital on a stag do; lazy racism perpetuated through newspapers; the BNP.
The one thing that really does make us bloody brilliant is music.
Popstars eh, aren’t they just wonderful? With all their singing and dancing and sitting on tour-coaches and tolerating interviews with Jonathan Ross. Plus the other stuff they, um, probably do. The ultra rich need a night of free alcohol and to celebrate each other’s wonderfulness, before the inevitable decline towards cruise ships and the Line Up round on Buzzcocks. And so, the Brits. The painful pseudo-live event that reminds everyone involved just how fleeting fame is. JLS will be watching the 2012 Brits on their sofa at home, bitterly Tweeting about Geri Halliwell.
This year’s Brits, purportedly live, but any pretence ruined after swearing was blocked out in the first ten minutes, was as much of as shambles as any other year. Host Peter Kay (looking as though he’d been inflated and stuck in a suit three sizes too small) clearly didn’t want to be there, and neatly recycled two carefully crafted jokes over the evening:
He’s [where the artist is from]’s answer to [someone vaguely similar, or not similar at all, or just a random name]
BBC News summarised some of them:
He described Lady Gaga as “New York’s answer to Su Polllard”, former Spice Girl Mel B as “Yorkshire’s answer to Beyonce”, described Kasabian as “Leicester’s answer to Aswad” and called Robbie Williams “Stoke on Trent’s answer to Shakin’ Stevens”.
Even they can’t resist taking the piss, saying that Kay “put … his talents to good use while introducing acts.”
His other joke was to point out what was on the other channel (which was lucky; we nearly missed Muslim Driving School) and asked why you weren’t watching that. Hilarious, Pete. Especially the seventh time. Holby City, this time? Great.
He was upstaged by every proper comedian that came to present an award, even Alan Carr lighting things up by pretending he’d been hit by perennial uber-prick Liam Gallagher‘s award.
Because Liam, being the cool cat that he thinks he is, threw his award for ‘best album of the last 30 years’ into the crowd. It was fun, like a throwback to the past, as with Liam looking out-of-place as if they’d got Roy Orbison or Mozart up there.
Fearne Cotton bewilderingly presented the backstage bits, getting awkwardly excited over ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING. Shut up, Fearne, it’s shit.
For some reason Geri Halliwell (in a toga) and Mel B (with the sides of her head shaved) were the only Spice Girls who could make it to pick up an award for most iconic brilliant performance or something, which had presumably been awarded for Geri’s Union Flag dress and pants. Clearly Emma Bunton had something better to do, probably working the late shift in her local Texaco. The organisers got their money’s worth though, with each of them making approximately 17 appearances over the course of the night, each time remembering more people they hadn’t thanked.
Lady Gaga, dressed as a giant tampon gave a weird performance and weird speeches, after winning everything from Best Album to Best Male. Jay Z, Lily Allen and other people who are far too cool for me to have heard of all performed, with Robbie Williams rounding things off in his inimitable smug, crowd-pleasing fashion.
Performance of the night went to Cheryl Cole, who sent out a clear message to husband Ashley Cole, who allegedly (do we still have to say allegedly?) cheated on her, by dressing as Michael Jackson and missing her cue to start miming, leaving the performance as out of sync as Jedward.
I’d like to thank everyone for making this column possible, Aim?e, Sarah, Eleanor, Stuart, Alex, Robyn – you all know who you are. I’ve been Nik, England’s answer to dried dog shit.
This was a guest blog by Nik Johnson off of Shouting At Cows
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Steve Charnock says
I’ll have you know that Emma Bunton does the Saturday afternoon shift on Heart FM.
Word on the street is that she doesn’t declare that or her Texaco job to the benefits people.
hoohaahee says
Liam Gallagher winning an award?!
Do people even care what this troglodytic chimp is annoyed about anymore? Oasis were the most overrated band in history.
Their popularity marked a truly embarrassing period in British music, attempting to convince the rest of the world that 3 chord strumming northern “ballads” about things that “shine” were edgy and “relevant”.
Had I been in charge of organising the Brits, I’d have offered that award to the Italian gangsters who knocked out Liam’s front teeth in that bar in Munich.