Bollocks to the football. And bollocks to England. We're always on holiday during World Cups/European Championships and we always end up watching yet another sad capitulation on a tiny telly in a European bar.
So welcome back to Mercury. And Polar Bear. The drummer's hair is truly astounding. Should be called Hair Bear.
Maximo Park. Definitely the best of the shit indie bands around at the moment. Fast forward.
Antony and the Johnsons. Antony - a gentle giant of a man. His songs send shivers down your spine, apparently. Yes, well he does sound like a wounded POLAR BEAR. Standing next to Jools he looks like if he hugged the smug little twat he'd crush him to death. Go on, Tony! Go on, my son!
M.I.A. Now I've got her album so I'm biased. She was the pick of the Beeb's Glastonbury coverage, along with Kasabian and The White Stripes. So do they let her perform live? Of course not. They ask her to give us her life story instead. Thanks, Mercury.
The Magic Numbers. What can be said about this brother sister brother sister combo that hasn't been said about The Thrills. Fast forward.
Coldplay. Fast Forward, Christ I wish this machine would go faster.
The Go! Team. Energetic and full of enthusiasm. That's about it. Oh, and Phillllllllllllllllll Jupitus likes them.
Of course Antony wins as he was the tallest contestant. And an extremely old man with gaps between his teeth who is apparently one of the judges tells us that we may not like Antony immediately but he's a grower. So go buy it, kids...erm, dads.
And that's the Mercury Music Prize. Freddie must be turning in his grave.
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