Charity shops bracing themselves for rumoured Vanilla Ice comeback album

By Slick Nick

Senior management in charity shops across the nation are rumoured to be in the process of planning for a suspected Vanilla Ice comeback album. The crisis talks commenced on Monday 28th February.

The Eminem blueprint, 49, was recently given the boot from godawful ITV show Dancing on Ice after many years out of the spotlight. It is thought that Mr Ice will use his newfound fame to leverage a one album deal from a record label with extremely low standards. Pictured below in his 70s heyday, he is thought by insiders to be extremely keen to enjoy a regular income stream again, rather than relying on occasional gardening jobs in the Beverly Hills area.

Richard Wilkes, 50, Senior Vice President of Shelf Planning at the Barnardos group, has been working around the clock with a team of advisors to anticipate when the release of this album may be in order to make sure adequate space is available in stores for future donations.

He said: ‘When a sad old pop star is dusted off for a current reality TV show, it is always a concern and can put a great deal of pressure on our staff if a new album does get released. They will usually be crap novelty gifts that cannot even be re-sold on eBay, so people use charity shops to offload them by the ton.’

‘We’re not getting caught out again like we were with the last Peter Andre release. We’ll be moving the Russell Brand books, Dr Who videos, puzzles and Joe McElderry singles well in advance of any Vanilla Ice recording contract being signed.’

Vanilla Ice’s album will likely be released on compact disc and be availabile from all participating Little Chef restaurants

The Worst Albums Ever Made – ‘Dig Out Your Soul’ (2008) by Oasis

By Slick Nick

There is no doubt in my mind that Oasis were the best pop group of the 90s, using a slew of extremely uncomplex singles and albums to end the musical careers of countless raggae and eurodance acts that always seemed to top the British charts at the time. Led by unambitious song-writer Noel Gallagher and starring his knobend brother Liam, the world was theirs for the taking – before Pop Idol, of course.

As enjoyable as the early Oasis compositions were, musically they were never anything more than basic as fuck. ‘Live Forever’ from the debut album ‘Definitely Maybe’, had an opening drum beat that any child could perform after two lessons, and generally you’d be lucky to get three or four different chords in a song. Listening to Oasis and then puting on a bit of Blur, their mortal enemies, was like listening to fucking Mozart by comparison. Sadly, their most ambitious riff from another early single called ‘Cigarettes And Alcohol’ had already been written by heavy metallers T Rex around twenty five years earlier, so they couldn’t lay claim to that.

But, like a lot of bands that start out well, after a few albums and a shit ton of record sales, Oasis could no longer muster the effort to record decent music, and the decline in quality of output during the noughties was quite staggering. The band broke up soon after releasing their final album ‘Dig Out Your Soul’, one of the worst albums ever made.

These crap songs sound like the kind of music you’d find buried on a 100-track bootleg set of long-forgotten Beatles demos that were never intended for release – lifeless, boring and poorly recorded. For all the Gallagher brothers’ rock ‘n’ roll swagger and tabloid punch-ups, this final effort is like someone retiring by leaving the office quietly after an insincere presentation from their boss in front of their co-workers.

There was magic in the initial Oasis singles. Hell, if ‘Wonderwall’ came on the radio during my short commute to work every day, I’d probably punch the air (roof) with elation; I don’t go to nightclubs anymore, I wasn’t reared on a tough inner city estate and I don’t fall for the Simon Cowell PR/marketing machine, so I get very little from the British charts these days. Comparing the songs from that era to the singles from this album is like puting Manchester United against an Albanian school football team – they just don’t compare.

Lead single ‘The Shock of The Lightning’, bolstered by a staggering two chord changes for the most part, sounds like an idea for a song that still needed to be finalised in rehearsals. ‘I’m Outta Time’ is the only listenable effort here, but it still annoys me because the verse always makes me think I’m listening to Lennon’s ‘Jealous Guy’. Pleasant chorus though, reminding fans that they could still write the occasional hook when they weren’t sitting by swimming pools guzzling Director’s Bitter.

Apart from sounding like the Beatles and wearing John Lennon spectacles, Liam Gallagher even started to look exactly like George Harrison at one point. On ‘Dig Out Your Soul’, the tribute act was completed with the aping of the rather self-indulgent, ploddy sitar-driven stuff that John, Paul, George and Ringo were experimenting with in the mid–to–late sixties. If it didn’t work for the greatest band to ever set foot in a recording studio, what the fuck was it going to do for Oasis?

Noel Gallagher’s lyrics have always been appalling at the best of times. Incoherent rambling sentences ending in words that mostly rhymed with ‘away’, ‘mind’, ‘far’, ‘you’, ‘me’ and ‘why’, they tended to make even less sense than Kurt Cobain’s insane poetry. This final album didn’t break tradition; the problem was the songs were now as equally terrible as a whole. Before, no one paid much attention because the melodies and singing were so effective.

It’s a shame the band that recorded ‘(What’s The Story) Morning Glory?’ could end their careers with such an underwhelming collection of crap songs. Even their b-sides collection ‘The Masterplan’ was one of the best from 1998, better than most other bands’ proper efforts. Noel Gallagher was supposed to keep rock ‘n’ roll alive, at least from a Sunday Times supplement point of view. His declining song-writing ability combined with Simon Cowell and increasing levels of illiteracy amongst young people have now rendered the British charts almost unlistenable. And this is even before Liam Gallagher kick starts an inevitable solo career for more cigarette money.

 

Slowly walking down the hall, faster than a cannon ball, where were you when we were writing shit music?

‘I am well happy’: Cher Lloyd expresses joy at finding Friends seasons two and three on VHS in charity shop

By Slick Nick

Life as a pop star can bring with it vast fame and fortune, but sometimes it’s the little things that make the biggest difference. That’s why X Factor reject Cher Lloyd recently called a press conference to announce her joy at picking up two entire video boxsets of the hit 90s sitcom Friends in a local charity shop.

The anorexic, 29, saw the boxsets in the window of a Barnardos shop in hometown of Malvern, Worcestershire, earlier in the week.

There was repordely no price tag attached to the videos of the now ended sitcom, which told the story of only caucasian 30-somethings living, working and fucking in New York, arguably the most ethnically diverse city on the planet. After making an enquiry inside the shop to a woman that was hard of hearing, Ms Lloyd was able to secure a price of £7.50 in total for the items. She then required five carrier bags to get the videos home.

Cher said: ‘I never thought that when I entered the X Factor all those months ago that I’d be sitting here owning not one but two boxsets of Friends.’

‘It’s a shame my grandmother’s caravan burnt to the ground with her inside it a few years ago. She’d have been so proud to see this.’

When the skeleton intends to view the videos remains unclear. Some have speculated that she will watch one episode an evening until completing all cassettes. Others insist she will attempt to watch both seasons in their entirity across a single weekend. We will remain close to the sources and report any further developments as and when they happen.

Despite getting the boot quite early on in 2010′s X Factor finals, Cher Lloyd will be releasing an album this coming summer. Take that, Ofcom.

The Worst Albums Ever Made – ‘Mechanical Animals’ (1998) by Marilyn Manson

By Slick Nick

During the 90s, if you bought even one copy of Kerrang! magazine, you couldn’t help but be exposed to the monstrosity that was Marilyn Manson, who came to represent everything that could possibly go wrong when a bunch of lads entered a recording studio. They were everywhere, and the release of each new album was treated, ironically given their Satanist leanings, like the second coming of Christ himself by the press.

Manson, real name Brian Warner, was the very definition of style-over-substance, where looking like a dick and saying silly things in interviews could generate a shit ton of record sales even if the music on those records was as bad as that of ‘Mechanical Animals’, his third album.

With a lead singer that relied almost solely on image, and a group of cohorts all named after serial killers, it just screamed of childish attention seeking from the get-go, as if they knew they were never going to write any music that was worth listening to but couldn’t bare the thought of making the coffee in an office for the rest of their lives.

Growing up, a few things puzzled me about this band. Obviously the music had zero merit; it wasn’t particularly heavy, and there certainly wasn’t any melodies to remember . There was no sex appeal unless you happened to have a fetish for very ugly, under fed men. The instrumentation was basic and would never be admired by proggy muso types in the same way that something like Tool would have been. Yet the group’s army of misguided fans kept growing. Despite all their controversy, musically they had more in common with T Rex than Slayer, and the only shocking effect they had on the impressionable youth of the day was postponing their discovery of decent music for a few years. For myself, that band/act was Rod Stewart, but I digress slightly.

‘Mechanical Animals’ is an hour of inconsistent, incoherent balls. Every song starts and ends with noise, and inbetween fails to satisfy in every way. The vocals are the same monotonous, crap-sounding dirge, underpinned by sometimes glam/sometimes industrial but always dull nothingness. It’s so fucking slow and drawn-out as well, with each song about two minutes longer than necessary. Lead single ‘Dope Show’ is a particularly big offender; less music, more torture.

There are fleeting moments of listenable guitar work but these are over quickly to make way for more rubbish. It must have been frustrating having to make this album as a guitarist with someone as up themselves as Manson at the helm of the operation. I’m sure they consoled themselves with the buckets of money they made though.

Finally, the genre-skipping really winds me up. This can’t make up its mind as to whether it wants to wank over David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust material or be featured in a straight to DVD film in a scene where a load of douchebag characters enter an ‘alternative’ nightclub for the first time in their lives. If you’re going to dip into every genre found on allmusic.com then before you do so, you’d better make sure you’re some kind of fucking musical prodigy like Brian Wilson or Will.I.Am first, lest you end up with a piece of shit like ‘Mechanical Animals’ on your CV.

 

We’re all slaves in the… crap music show.

REVEALED: How Olly Murs ran out of toilet roll just hours before morning wank

By Slick Nick

Pop star Olly Murs was unable to masturbate according to his normal morning ritual today after finding himself without an adequate amount of bedside toilet roll needed to capture and dispose of the ejaculate.

The X Factor reject and current chart flop, 33, usually begins each day with a five minute wank with the aid of a toilet roll kept in his bedside cabinet.

It is thought that the air in the cockney’s bedroom being festuned with Old Spice the night before caused a sneezing fit, which required the use of the final few sheets of the Andrex toilet tissue.

He said: ‘It was a nightmare. Even though I was fully erect and good to go, I had to get out of my nice warm bed and go to the bathroom to get a new roll of toilet paper.’

‘By the way, would you like to buy some fruit and vegetables? We can probably come to an arrangement on some sort of bulk purchase.’

Syco management have confirmed that Mr Murs will now store several toilet rolls under his bed to prevent this kind of disaster happening again.

The album Olly Murs is out now and can be found playing at most ironic social gatherings of twenty-something music snobs.

Wanker?

The Worst Albums Ever Made – ‘Adema’ (2001) by Adema

By Slick Nick

Adema – a word I never thought I’d see again. Still, that’s what this feature is about in a way – digging up long-forgotten shit from the past. And believe me, this is shit.

I suppose in hindsight, Adema serve a small purpose in 2011. People often disagree with me when I suggest that the noughties were generally the worst decade for music since the 1940s. They will claim metal in general, bands like Against Me! and Gaslight Anthem breaking big and the charts never looking better as reasons to cherish the past decade’s recorded output. Next time that happens, I can calmly sit down, load up Spotify and type ‘Adema’ in the search bar. “Come, my friend. Have a seat,” I’ll tell them. “I don’t feel the need to offer this debate anything more than for twelve tracks.”

It would be a feat of inhuman ability for Adema to have been even worse than they were on this self-titled debut, probably only released given the singer was the half brother of Jonathan Davies, vocalist of fellow Californian highschool bully victims Korn. Whilst that latter band had some nice ideas, occasionally effective riffing and rare hooks, Adema had precisely nothing to offer rock music in the slightest, save for a cute frontman. It’s worth noting that the brothers were as equally annoying to listen to on record though.

The Adema song-writing process was a straight forward one – you lay down some terrible guitar parts, execute a couple of forgettable verses and choruses and then go into a middle eight perpetuated by an array of silly effects pedals. The lyrics in particular, after some brief analysis, are dreadful to the point of being a near parody of shitty radio rock. This nugget of poetry from the song ‘Close Friend’ illustrates my point: ‘And now I know because you’ve done everything possible to me / Made me so upset.’ Upset? On a so-called alternative rock album? Even a monumental pussy like Bruno Mars would never write anything so pathetic.

The singing from Mark Chavez is appalling. Frankie Valli he ain’t. If your band can’t nail any semblance of a passable guitar riff, you’d better be sure as fuck that you have an arsenal of immaculately-executed hook-ridden melodies to bestow upon the record-buying public to compensate. Instead, almost every song uses the same tuneless melody, whined by a singer doing a mediocre Korn impression. Combining these factors with the clumsy lyrics and ‘Adema’ makes for one hell of a punishing listening experience.

There are clips on YouTube of the band performing these crap songs live and unplugged. This was an interesting idea – if the songs and singing are awful on record, even with all the modern studio effects and trickery, what on earth was there to gain in filming even more poorly executed versions of these godforsaken tracks? It was just one in a catalogue of poor decisions made in Adema’s career, a catalogue that began with the decision to give them a fucking record deal in the first place.

There were two singles from this piece of dog shit – ‘Giving In’ and ‘The Way You Like It’. In closing, the video for the latter made the least sense. This album is full to bursting point with lunk-headed self pity and despair. Then along comes a video showing the lead singer dancing with a decent bit of skirt at one of Adema’s very own shows. Apart from the obvious self-indulgence, two very different demographics of American teenagers appear to be targetted in the band’s marketing strategy. On the one hand, the clean-cut douchebag, and on the other, unpopular grunge rocker types. This just doesn’t work. Until kids ‘find’ themselves, there are firm boundaries in a social sense that teens stick to, and that music marketing should adhere to. You’re either a confident sportsman that gets to fuck cheerleaders at keg parties, or you listen to Marilyn Manson and cut yourself. The two should not be blurred or combined within music. Ever.

 

Nowadays no one remembers when they were young and made shit music

 

DISASTER: One Direction’s Harry Styles forgets house on paper round

By Slick Nick

Harry Styles, lead singer of future painters and decorators One Direction, reportedly failed to deliver the full quota of newspapers from his round which took place this Thursday.

Upon returning to the newsagent’s in his hometown of Holmes Chapel, Cheshire, the longhair was dismayed to discover a remaining Sun newspaper in the satchel part-owned by the shop.

Styles, 13, struggled to recall which house he had failed to deliver to.

He said: ‘I don’t know what to say. I usually do such a thorough job and even make sure the letter boxes don’t rattle and wake people up too early.’

‘I do remember swerving to avoid a particularly large dogshit on my bike at one point. That must have thrown my plans.’

The star, who will soon be working round the clock to ensure the petrol tank in Simon Cowell’s Bugatti is never empty, has worked the same paper route for around sixteen months, occasionally covering colleagues when they’re off sick. It consists of five Guardians, six Daily Mirrors, four Suns, one Independent and a worrying eleven Daily Mails.

Insiders believe no complaints were made over the incident, though shop owner Richard Wilkes, 5o, intends to conduct a thorough investigation.

 

One Direction are currently in the US recording an album which is bound to be the Sgt. Pepper of the iPad generation

The Worst Albums Ever Made – ‘Hooray For Boobies’ (2000) by The Bloodhound Gang

By Slick Nick

Setting out with good intentions but then making a shit album is bad enough, but hey, we’re all human and not everyone can be as gifted as John Lennon or Rod Stewart when it comes to crafting unforgetable music. But when a band knowingly records an album of rubbish, then uses the resources and talents of top music industry figures to put it on compact disc for all eternity, that is slightly less forgivable.

Incase the album title doesn’t give it away, rest assured that Bloodhound Gang were not a group that took themselves overly seriously. This was an album full of jokes that would only appeal to the most loathsome of pubescents at best, and at worst, your Dad.

Like a lot of the worst albums ever made, ‘Hooray For Boobies’ encompasses an eclectic range of musical genres. Pop-punk at heart but with cod metal tendencies, the Gang were shrewd enough to ensure they remained current at the time by sprinkling the odd rap break and dance beat across their work. Case in point: hit single ‘The Bad Touch’, which sticks out like a lump of dogshit hanging from someone’s shoe, as well as being reminiscent of the theme tune to the long-forgotten Clothes Show.

One of my pet hates with albums in general is the use of non-musical filler, for example sound samples at the beginning of songs, spoken word clips taken from TV shows and movies, lengthy feedback (with a couple of exceptions) and entire songs used solely for non-musical ‘comedic’ purposes. Five of ‘Hooray For Boobies’ eighteen tracks fit into the latter category, plus there are various spoken word clips littered throughout. So apart from the music being terrible, the whole ordeal of listening to this reord is made all the more painful and drawn out by these techniques.

The production here is a joke, sounding like the instruments were recorded in someone’s garden shed with equipment from Argos. I have no problem with a band looking for a raw, stripped down sound if it suits their music, but when you’re making a pop album for the radio with the backing of a major label behind you, you’d better make sure you don’t come out of the recording studio with anything less than a polished, chunky and aesthetically pleasing sound at the very least.

This album teaches a fundamental life truth about music though – if it’s a terrible gimick, expect it to sell shitloads. If it’s a terrible gimick that features songs about burping and tits, with swear words censored in the videos, then expect it to sell shitloads and constantly permeate your everyday existence. Fucking forget escaping it for even one day unless you plan on spending some time alone in a padded cell. You can’t get away from it. Just suck it up, take it on the chin and make sure to have some decent ‘antidote’ music handy to soothe the agony. I’d recommend anything by the Ramones, Ten Yard Fight and Dire Straits, off the top of my head.

These chaps were a fair few years from being the stereotypical ‘just out of high school and arsing around before getting a proper job in IT sales‘ types at the time of recording this CD. I don’t believe for one second that singer/song-writer Jimmy Pop wasn’t a cold and calculating musical prodigy who knew damn well what he was doing when he wrote these crap songs in his late twenties. He spotted a gap in the market and filled it with ‘Hooray For Boobies’, and ever since has probably enjoyed a carefree existence, listening to the great symphonies of Bach, Mozart and Pachelbel on a $30,000 stereo whilst sitting on a beanbag stuffed entirely of money in a Beverly Hills mansion. The cunt.

 

Mum and Dad this is Chasey, Chasey this is the shit music that will help put my kids through college.

Joe McElderry due to have opinion on something

By Slick Nick

Joe McElderry, winner of 2009′s X Factor, is suspected of being in the process of forming an opinion on something.

The pop failure, 29, is strongly believed to be planning the communication of this opinion to coincide with the next release in his troubled music career.

Insiders are keeping tightly-lipped on the situation, though we would speculate the singer’s view would likely be on someone else’s new single or album which will undoubtedly sell more units than his own. Other likely topics would be declaring a recent global tragedy as ‘bad’, Cheryl Cole and the recent baby storylines in Eastenders.

Despite winning the prime time ITV karaoke contest with a staggering 486 votes, the clean-cut Geordie has struggled to win over the record-buying public like previous contestants. His album even failed to chart in Germany, whilst recent single ‘Someone Wake Me Up’ only sold nine copies.

He said: ‘Hopefully when this opinion of mine hits the middle pages of the tabloids, it will make the public realise that the music I’ve recorded is actually amazing.’

‘I just need to sell some records. The job market up in South Shields is pretty shit at the moment.’

 

Joe McElderry’s music releases are gradually being delisted by most highstreet stores.

 

The Worst Albums Ever Made – ‘Trapt’ (2002) by Trapt

By Slick Nick

Trapt’s mainstream musical career was launched in 2002 with the laughably bad single ‘Headstrong’. Three albums later and they’re still in much the same place as they were when they started – a band that is just there, with few people giving a shit.

Coming in at the arse end of nu metal’s popularity peak, this self-titled debut was an interesting beast, which encompassed most of the things that made that genre terrible (muddy production, lazy guitar riffing, similar beats) whilst injecting some fairly neat ideas that took the crapness to the next level.

The songs flit between watered down butt rock and wimpy One Tree Hill-esque self-pitious musings over clean guitars. When things get heavy, Trapt can barely motivate themelves to use riffs of more than two chords at a time. As for the lyrics – pitiful, as in they evoke genuine pity that grown adult males from a developed country could conceive such childish, derivative shite. It’s all about taking people on and breaking down etc. but you don’t win battles with watered down heavy metal music, as far as I’m aware.

The album runs out of ideas very early on. Every song has near identical execution, with clean verses and ‘heavy’ choruses. A couple of fucking breakdowns occassionally would have been welcome, to be honest, but would never have saved this from being another stain in the underpants of alternative rock.

Occasionally the drum timings veer slightly off the tried and tested 4/4 beat. Someone in this band must have been desperate to prove to their disappointed parents that all the money they’d blown on music lessons for their son hadn’t gone to waste. Unfortunately, they had.

Finally, the album cover annoys me. It’s hardly the symbol of cliched teen angst and radio rock superstardom that Trapt were aiming for. Maybe they ended up blowing all their marketing budget on effects pedals for their guitars rather than concept artists?

Headstrong to take up shelf space in charity shops since 2003.

 

BREAKING NEWS: Simon Cowell set to earn ‘shitloads’ in 2011

By Slick Nick

Pop Peelings can exclusively reveal that contrary to popular belief, music mogul Simon Cowell’s expected income for 2011 will be precisely ‘shitloads’, according to leaked documents.

The perenial sperm-provider to malnourished women will make the money through various television and music dealings that the public will know about through a carefully managed PR strategy later in the year, which will likely have a spot of pro war propaganda thrown in for good measure.

Cowell’s hit TV show X Factor, in which various multi-millionairres crush the dreams of low income families in front of a live audience of halfwits, is expected to launch in the USA in a deal reportedly worth ‘a fuck ton of dolla’.

The star, 73, is well known in media circles for having a taste for fast cars, faster women, and mind-numbingly bad music.

He said: ‘You can never have enough money. My Bugatti isn’t exactly a Renault Clio, you know.’

‘It’s just a shame you can’t fuel it with children’s tears. A damn shame.’

He is currently rumoured to be seeking planning permission to build a Scrooge McDuck style money bin next to one of his properties in a location that most people will never be able to afford to visit.

When asked about what he plans to spend his hard-earned money on, cowell replied: ‘Wine, women and song. And probably the DVD collection of Only Fools And Horses. Uncle Albert cracks me up.’

Is the Syco head taking fewer risks with old age? Insiders at the label are claiming that with 2011′s X Factor, Cowell will simply have the winner record a cover version of the previous week’s number one selling single, virtually eliminating any doubt whatsoever that his latest signee will have the much saught after Christmas number one.

He remarked: ‘I am certainly still a risk-taker.’

‘There’s a difference between not taking risks and just being damn lazy.’

Simon Cowell’s acts have releases out at the moment and these can be found in most substandard music collections.

Nowhere Boy (2009)

Least interesting years of music legend’s life immortalised by Kick Ass.

2/5

Airheads (1994 dir. Michael Lehmann)

Idiot heavy metal types re-enact Die Hard with shit music instead of detonators.

2/5

Diana Vickers ‘very grateful’ after receiving Inception on DVD for Christmas

By Slick Nick

X Factor runner-up Diana Vickers surprised family members today by thanking them sincerely after receiving a brand new DVD of the motion picture Inception.

The singer, well known for her shunning of foot wear, was surprised to receive the critically acclaimed film following the creation of a Christmas wish list that largely comprised of perfume, shoes, pop CDs and a subscription to National Geographic magazine.

Diana’s Nan said: ‘I’d noticed favourable reviews for this DVD and bought it on impulse for Diana from a local branch of Blockbusters that had recently filed for bankruptcy. The shop assistant warned me that the first 45 minutes was largely exposition, but I know Diana’s a bright girl and could easily cope with some intelligent cinema.’

‘He was a very nice lad. It’s such a shame that the highstreet rental business model is virtually dead now due to the internet. Anyway, I hear the branch of W H Smiths down the road are recruiting.’

Diana herself was unavailable for comment, but those present have confirmed beliefs that the star of plays very few people can afford to attend was genuinely grateful and ‘looking forward to watching it with the commentaries’.

Diana’s new exercise DVD ‘Stumble Your Way To Slimdom’ is temporarily unavailable due to the manufacturer having to deal with a flooding issue.

The Social Network (2010)

Socially awkward dork changes global socialising by coding to techno music in poorly lit rooms.

4/5

“Looking at our clothes and bank balances, you’d be forgiven for thinking we were the archetypal John Hughes middle American parent types. We actually created a deadbeat painter that won a TV show in Britain.”

 

Only now do they look Matt in the eye

“Ok ok ok… When I say ‘brothers’, I really mean ‘PR tools’.”

Equal ops gone wrong

“I fucking love being in this band – you’re never too far away from a mob of ugly pre-pubescent chicks.”

Why write on paper when you have a human face handy?

“Did you guys hear the one about the superstar who was too raucus for Starbucks? It goes a little something like this…”

 

Diehard fans watch him when he talks

“Bitch be trippin’ making me walk down all these stairs. These heels bite like a motherfucker.”

 

Her legs do work after all

“The flames are supposed to represent hell Rhianna, but you’ve not seen hell until you’ve been on the pavement outside Yates’s in Colchester town center on a Sunday morning.”

That is a look of scorn like no other

 

“I have decided not to wear clothes to symbolise the raw power of this song in a stipped-to-its-bones performance. I’m also aware that my male fans are mostly teenage boys that like titties.”

'What yo lookin' at?'

“Yep. This is a far cry from the fucking Disney Club.”

Uncle Walt would have been proud

“I love to conduct sing-songery nearly as much as I love oiled men in their pants to writhe with me.”

Just an average Saturday night for Neighbours soap star

“Shovelling popcorn and dispensing cola for 8 hours a day plays havock with your hand skin!”

'Do you want sweet or salty (lol) popcorn?'