A personal view by Phil Winstanley (a music fan).
Illustration: Famous When Dead
I have just had the misfortune to sit through the train crash that is the Brits. The first act on was some bloke called Mika who is the best Leo Sayer tribute act I've ever seen, doing a duet with an inflatable version of wee Jimmy Krankie. By now I was wondering if I was still asleep, and experiencing a nightmare brought on by eating too many Guatemalan insanity peppers.
Then we were introduced to the Osbornes, Jesus Christ! I was just pleased for Ozzy that he was so far out of it; he doesn't realize what a complete twat his wife is. After some other nondescript was introduced I decided to go for a long soak in the bath. Not long enough, I came down to see Take That receive the best live act award. They seem a nice enough bunch of lads, but come on!?! I kept watching, hoping to see a red dot appear on Sharon's forehead, as some enraged sniper was about to exact revenge on behalf of the British viewing public.
We were then treated to Amy Winehouse, twitching like a character from Team America whilst making a series of noises that I believe at some point, could have been lyrics. She was joined on stage by some bloke with a twin necked guitar, who had won an award for taking some well known tracks and putting trumpets on them. Then Sir Paul, I'm a big fan. The man has written some of the best songs I've ever heard, but if I hear "Hey Jude" once more, I'm going to join the enraged sniper on the balcony and waste a few of the arm waving, Nah Nah Nah singing morons in the crowd.
The highlight for me were Dave Grohl and The Arctic Monkeys treating this fiasco with the contempt it deserved, and Vic Reeves for forgetting why he was there (I know how he felt). Can't wait for next year. Steven Hawking is presenting, and Chris De Burgh is up for best Irish Hip Hop artist. I might win the award for best sniper!
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