Before watching this I had already mentally prepared what to say. I was going to say how ironic it is that in a show called The Brits, the only sign of any talent is demonstrated by two Americans, Prince and Kanye West. I was going to say how sick I am of seeing the Khazi Chiefs, KT Tungsten, Jamie Blunted - I saw enough of these jokers on New Year's Eve on Jools' Wankananny.
I was going to say how I'd just about had enough of having to fast forward through yet another teeth-grindingly mammoth performance by Green Fucking Day (little did I know that they couldn't be there so we had to put up with Coldplay doing a lamentable U2 impression).
And as for Weller and his award for his major contribution to musical conservatism...
But after watching The Brits, I'm just reminded that it's now two years since I started blogging. I started off with fourth form poetry. A year later I was in the sixth form magazine.
And now? I've no idea. I can only judge myself with the benefit of hindsight. What I do know now is that The Brits are a waste of breath. But I've now got almost a handful of readers and each of you has impeccable taste in not just music, but film, tv, clothes, and shoes.
And when you've finished reading this, just take yourself over to the nearest mirror and take a good, long look. Do you see what I see?
Put On Your Big Boy Shorts
21 hours ago