Top of the Pops

Welcome to the lowlight of your Christmas, my TOTP blog. And I've got James here with me for once to add his own brand of bile. It's really hard to write a blog on a phone so take heed and pity me, for suffering in more ways than one.
I have never heard this Take That song before, but we both agree the brand is not working as a three. Everyone wants a (Jason) Orange in their stocking. Why not get a new member? James Corden seemed up for it on the Gogglebox repeats - sorry, highlights - last night. James says he feels something about the way Gary sings feels patronising. If you're feeling patronised by Gary Barlow in a Christmas jumper, you're probably not at your mental best.
Who the fuck are Gorgon City? Isn't that a brand of cheese? Oh no, that's gorgonzola and Cathedral City. Is this dubstep? James; 'There's a rent a raver down the front.' James is convinced they film this TOTP in July and then just CGI Ben Haenow in at the end.
James: 'When's Florence on?' I think she's reanimating in her oxygen chamber, I've not seen her for at least a year.
Up next, Schmuck. Spelt Sigma. Isn't that some X Factor reject? Oh it's like drum and bass or something. They've half got the washing machine but not quite. Come back Ed Sheeran, all is forgiven. Not really, fuck off.
I'm not mentioning Fearne and Reggie this year as they're beneath contempt.
Next up is The Vamps, a 'youtube sensation'; like Frankie Grande but less likeable. James says they look like they might be playing in a bar in the background in The Knick. If that's not funny, direct your complaints to him as I don't watch it. Jingle Bells is not a valid Christmas cover version. This is endless. There's only one fucking verse to Jingle Bells, you cunts!
Fearne likes Foo Fighters, or her autocue says she does. Well, someone has to. I have never heard any of these songs that have been out this year, thank fuck. Yet still I want to punch Sam Smith in the chops.
James: 'Fresh from making computers, it's Tom O'Dell.' Who's this miserable sod? Bring back the garage. Bring back Pharrell. James says, 'Bring back Jingle Bells.' This is a song for those who started drinking port too early on Christmas and are crying already.
McBusted. My mum's favourite. I had to buy her their CD for Christmas. I'm not even joking. Do you know how that's going to screw up my recommendations on Amazon? Disgusting. This is anti-awesome. We think might have just heard the lyrics 'More range than Brian May.' Still I suppose it's cheaper to smash up a 'air guitar' than a real one not one of the pricks can play anyway. I hope the missing one with the eyebrows is having a lie in.
Next in the aural torture chamber is Coldplay. Who'd have thought the man who wrote the beautiful The Scientist could follow that with literally hundreds of duff, samey s-hits that make you want to consciously uncouple with your own eardrums. Just stop. Stop it now, just like the sex offenders charity. Also, stop wasting paper. That confetti is murders to clear up.
One thing I will say in Fearne and Reggie's defence, they're not incessantly telling me what's coming up next for once. Probably because everyone's turned off in previous years when they did.
Next up is Rixston. Me and James simultaneously: 'who?' James: 'These people all look privately educated. How do people know the words to this song? They must play it to them in the queue.' The singer looks like Shane Ritchie.
Next up, Jeff Probst from Survivor. Oh no, it's Mr Probz. This is the worst yet. I prefer Mr Oizo.This is a new low, even worse than that twit on the piano.
The next person 'had people literally pouring out of his tent at Glastonbury' - yep, running for the nearest Herbal Highs stand, no doubt. George Ezra? Pigeon toed twat. Knock-kneed gnat. I think he just sang a line about Gordon Brown. James is becoming hysterical, and not in a good way. We're praying to be called for dinner right now.
James says there's a lot of 'sub UB40 stuff out at the moment.' Just stop and consider that sentence. Sub UB40. Fuck.
Next up is Ella Henderson. I've not heard this much but it sounds like it's off an advert. Her mouth gets on my nerves. I know that's not her fault, but there it is. James is nodding his head to this one, it's his second favourite after Take That.
My mum has just come in to express her disgust at at Matt Willis. She said 'He takes over the whole band. Talk about ruining a good group.' Hold on, I just bought you their CD, I say. She goes, 'I like to listen to them but I couldn't watch a DVD with them on now. I don't know how Emma Willis puts up with him.' Fair comment, but he had to put up with her misogyny and bias so it's swings and roundabouts. No point trying to explain that to my mum, though.
'Ed Sheeran, your favourite!' I went to James. My mum failed to detect the sarcasm and said 'I knew gingers would have their day.' Ed Sheeran has not even got a nice voice. It sounds whiny. I didn't look up once when he was on. Offensive to all senses.
Who are Clean Bandit? Sounds like Mr Muscle. My mum is not impressed. But she has got a large glass of Baileys. I've not even had a drink yet. God knows I need one.
My mum is looking at the CD cover for her McBusted CD now. I said, 'Sorry, I should have crossed out Matt Willis's face for you' and she goes, 'Dont worry, I can do that', quick as you like, followed by 'He's gross.'
Haenow now. I've heard from a reliable source that he wasn't even a van driver. Honestly. How will the pop lizards try and pull the wool over our eyes next? Why wasn't he there in the studio? Could they not afford the CGI? Poor sod, he'll never get to be on TOTP now. His career will be over by next Christmas.
I asked my mum to sum up that TOTP in one words. She said, crap. On that note, I wish you a merry Christmas, JLS style. Have a good one.

Christmas Top of the Pops 2013

It's that time of the year again - time to be sat in a room and tortured. No, not being in the same vicinity as your family for Christmas, but by facing the onslaught of Christmas TOTP. I've blogged this for the past few years, so I suppose it's a tradition, like having a festive punch up, or puking up. 

With the spectre of Jimmy Saville hanging over the show - and now the reminder of real-life monster Ian Watkins (no, not that one) permeating round Fearne Cotton - we look to Reggie Yates for some wholesome entertainment, ha. Heaven help us. 

First up, John Newman. I don't know who that is. He sounds like he has a mouth full of biscuits. It's like Prof Green, Plan B and James Arthur have been mashed into one person, as if the three of them weren't bad enough (I actually like James Arthur, even though that's not socially acceptable). 

Oh no, I'm not going to know who anyone is, am I? Old age! I curse you. 

My mums boyfriend just came in to discuss Ian Watkins. Fearne Cotton: you are now firmly associated with baby rape. I don't think even she deserves this. 

I have seen Chase and Status on some Glastonbury footage, I think. Is anything new anymore? Everything is referencing or sampling something else. Dear God, I AM OLD. 

Next up: Boyzone. Gately was the only likeable one, really. One looks like a potato. One ruined Corrie. One has tattoos and some quirky eyebrows. One 'nearly got punched in a fight, it's alright.' But is it? 

I don't understand this Rizzle Kicks thing. It sounds like Suggs. It makes me want to smash a cup, too. Is that a trombone? Yegads. 

Who is Tom Odell? Is he for those who find Ed Sheeran a bit perky? 

Ah, here's Jessie J, she'll get things going. Seriously, who are her fans? I've never met one. She's channelling Brian Molko with 'your only friend is your phone.' Except he's good. I would happily watch her burn. BURN! Burn her. 

I'm getting hungry now. My mum's boyfriend is shocked I don't know who this indie band is - Bastille. The frontman looks like Nick Grimshaw. There's too many beards in indie at the moment. I refuse to like any band containing more than one beard. This is not doing anything for me. No amount of confetti can melt my grinch heart. 

The Saturdays look waxy. Have they been reanimated? Does anyone know anything about any of these women? They are like girlband Sims. There's not a personality between five of them. And a couple of bras wouldn't go amiss. People are eating. 

Oh God, not more garage! Is garage back now? I missed who this was but it's another Plan B type, someone looking creepy in a coat, and sounding like Daniel Beddingfield. Is this what we want from a popstar? I didn't ask for this.

Even my mum - who you'd think was the target audience - is appalled by the sight of James Blunt. Imagine being in James Blunt's backing band. I'd rather be Jedward's guitarist. The drummer's got his scarf on, ready to leave. It's like watching Prince William get up to sing a carol at Christmas. 

There's now an argument going on about bread sauce. This is in real life, not on TOTP. 

I'm getting fucked off now. Not more shouty sub-garage, sub-trance, sub-drum-and-bass. This is virtually the same song that was on at the start. I need a wee. There's no pause. I want my dinner. 

Is there no rap or rock in the world anymore? 

Ellie Goulding is so awful she's making me pine for Olly Murs. 

Who are OneRepublic? Is this a man band? Who's the audience for this turkey shit? This band is seedy. 

My mum is upset that McFly haven't been on. I think even I'm upset that McFly haven't been on. That's how bad this has been. 

And number one is... Sam Bailey. Oh well, at least after today I'll never have to hear this song again. Happy Christmas.