Ah, good ol' awards shows. They tend to serve first and foremost as a prompter of tellywards abuse instead of a celebration of talent (Panic At The Disco, Best Video at the VMAs, anyone?). So, well done, Mercury judges. You've once again made yourselves look like you know diddly-squat about music.We're not hugely bothered by this - I mean, the
Mercury Prize has never been enough of a lowculture bastion for us ever to actually care. Ok, so Franz Ferdinand winning or the Spice Girls getting nominated were rare moments of greatness, but overall it's a beige pretentiousfest for 30-something Hoxtwannabes in drainpipe jeans who bought the M.I.A. album.
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We're merely pissed off about yet another media outlet singing the undeserving praises of the Overrated Apes. You remember that Oxfam ad about giving a man a fishing rod, and he'll feed his family for a year? Well, give a Clearasil-lite scally a guitar, and he'll make a fucking abysmal racket with it. Woo-hoo, let's spunk awards and money their way. Elsewhere, the annual Xenomania nosh-in that is the Popjustice £20 Prize threw up Girls Aloud's
Biology as the winner. Well blow us the fuck away! Who'da thunk it?
Maybe next year we'll see a musically diverse list with exciting nominees and a deserving winner. And maybe, in the words of Homer Simpson, we will then hug some snakes. Yes, we will hug and kiss some poisonous snakes.
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