Apart from Ricky Gervais and The General Public, this knob is top of my hit list. In fact, such is my detestation that I'm not even going to give him the pleasure of having his picture on my site. He'd love that. He'd probably get really turned on by the thought, then act all modest and coy (act badly), so that anyone paying any real attention would easily spot what a publicity-loving, bollocks-talking (or not talking...) contemptable bag of piss he really is.
He of the seemingly sarcastic "It's good you came to see us now, before we go Bon Jovi massive." comments at Glastonbury in 2000, and of the "I don't really like talking about stuff" remark to an interviewer on Radio 4. Not when it doesn't concern how bloody famous and great you are, you don't! Who goes on the radio to be interviewed, then sulks off halfway through because he doesn't like having to think about what he's being asked? When some cheesy twat on Radio 1 asks him whether he likes his eggs fried or scrambled, that's fine. But ask him why he gave his album a faux-meaningful title and he gets all reticent. Poor baby.
To recap: 1) He's super arrogant. 2) He's all mouth and no substance. 3) His lyrics are pretentious and meaningless ('Yellow' was named after a Yellow Pages for fuck's sake). 4) He wears t-shirts that say shit like 'Stop Handgun Violence'. I mean, the sentiment is all well and good, but on a t-shirt? I don't think so. 5) He can't even sing very well. Which is a bit of an issue for me, seeing as he's a singer. 6) Bad hair. Bad bad hair. 7) And bad teeth. 8) Simon Pegg (UGH!) is the godfather of one of his kids and was even allowed to sing on one of Coldplay's tracks. Double UGH. 9) This is unverified, but I bet any money he really loves Ricky Gervais.
That's enough of him.
Here's some quality goodness from the mouths of Joan Wasser and Rufus W.
And here is where to go to read all about Peach and Ariel's (amongst others) new blook (it's a blog-book apparently), and to be honest, if you're reading this blog you probably already know about this, but anyway. It's for charidee, and it has lots of bloggers' wordage in it. Not mine sadly, as I was on hiatus while the wheels were in motion. But rest assured I may possibly get my arse in gear if there ever happens to be a Blook Mk II. So go and buy it or something, and if you buy 250 copies (which by my reckoning would set you back a cool 3,125 of your Earth pounds) Ariel will even go on a coffee date with you. For that money I'd expect a muffin, newspaper, and possibly a foot massage as well, but I'm not buying 250 copies of it, so maybe the person who does will have slightly lower expectations than me. For Ariel's sake I can only hope that that is the case.
This post is dedicated to Cat, who I know hates Chris Martin almost as much as me, and has a cool new haircut, so good for her too! (Good for everyone!)