Experimental Music Love

January 8, 2008

Brit Awards 2007

Filed under: Features — by Free Edinburgh Podcast @ 9:32 pm

The Brit Awards 2007: A Patch Work

In less than a week, the glitz, glamour and all round gaudiness of the back slapathon that is the Brit Awards 2007 shall be upon us, and with Russel brand hosting and Red Hot Chili Peppers set to perform, it’s looking likely that it shall be an even more unholy affair than usual. With such cynicism in mind, I have taken it upon myself to give my own take on this spectacle, in the hope of gleaming some sense of worth out of it all. In the words of that great philosopher, Kel, “Aw, here it goes.”


The scene – a frosty February night, somewhere in London. An ego stained red carpet leads its way to the steps of a building. A building full to the brim with the elite of the British music industry – and Lily Allen. The baying press align either side of the carpet, cameras in hand, and wearing that little card that says ‘PRESS’ in the brims of their trilbies, because in my head, that’s how every person who works for a newspaper looks.

Tumbleweed blows down the carpet, followed by a frantic looking Luke Pritchard running after it screaming “Quick, someone catch my hair! I took my straw hat off for but a second when it became slightly unfashionable and a bitter devil of a wind took these golden locks away. This is almost as big a disaster as The Kooks being nominated for two awards!”

Gary Barlow quickly waddles past, mumbling something about ‘canopies’ and ‘free mini quiches’. Traces of drool trail after him, causing havoc for others walking down the carpet.

For those who do make it past the puddles, their reward is Russel Brand on stage. Covered neck to toe in skin tight otter spermatozoa sewn together, and with his hair audaciously tinged with coleslaw (for that ‘just got out the fridge’ look), he cuts a striking figure on stage.

He speaks: “I, this here human being known as Russel Brand, have been chosen to host these here awards of Britannia, with the aid of these here ball bags. Swine!” He pauses for the overwhelming audience laughter that follows. This lasts for five minutes.

“First up then on this most holy of all days that British music has to offer, is the award for Best British Male. But I’m not on the list. Outrage I say. Swine!” Another five minute outburst of audience laughter follows.

Legendary Russian footballer, Oleg Salenko arrives on stage to present the award. After announcing the first three nominees of James Morrisson, Lemar and Paulo Nutini, he, along with every single person watching, taking part and generally at all alive falls asleep, the trinity’s power to bore now so awesome that all that’s needed to cure those insomnia blues being the mere mention of their names.

After several hours, good old Oleg recovers, and completes the list of nominees with Thom Yorke and Jarvis Cocker added to the fold. Jarvis wins to a rapturous reception, though discontentment is shown from Michael Jackson who shows his behind to a child. Thom Yorke goes into a strop claiming that he deserved to win because he traveled there by boat. No-one cares, so Thom goes back to his room and play Nintendo. He writes a 12 part song about it later.

Russel Brand slides his greasy way onto the stage again. He’s replaced his attire for something a tad more conservative – Geri Halliwell’s union Jack dress.

“This is to give the ladies a treat you understand. Why, they just can’t keep their eyes off my dangling meat and two veg, can they? I’ve shagged 3 women you know. Swine!” A standing ovation follows.

Legendary Scottish footballer, Colin Calderwood, jogs on stage to offer the Best British Female award to the lucky recipient. Nobody finds out who it really is as Lily Allen immediately assumes it’s her, rushes on stage and gives a 45 minute long acceptance speech, yet still manages to thank only herself.

Amy Winehouse gets drunk and complains. She’s not even at the Brits, or aware of its occurrence at all. She just gets drunk and complains.

A live performance from Snow Patrol follows. Every single seat is vacated as every attendee decides now would be a good time for a toilet break.

Russel appears back on stage, this time clad in a tutu and a leather vest. He seems pleased with himself. “I was just back stage shagging you know. Yeah. The swine!” Judi Dench is so moved by this hilarity she immediately writes to the Pope who nominates Brand for canonisation.

Legendary English footballer, David May, presents Arctic Monkeys with the Best British Group award, and no cynical remarks or jokes are made by me as they are great and deserve it. Scene kids, however, are unsure as to whether it’s cool or not to like them at the moment and are so unsure as to whether they are pleased of this win or not, immediately explode with the confusion.

A giant breast appears on stage, out the nipple of which pops a Russel Brand covered in milk. “I really like tits,” he proclaims. “Ball bags. The swine!” More visible mirth from an ecstatic crowd.

After 2 weeks of constantly pressing redial, and with a £3500 phone bill, it’s no surprise for Johnny Borrel when he picks up the award for Best British Single. When being handed the award by legendary Italian footballer, Marco Negri, he appears to have a tear in his eye. This is later found out to be his own semen after a quick session of masterbaiting over his own album cover. Tosser.

A live show is then given by Take That, Beck wins Best International Male and Robbie Williams beats off far more deserving competition to win Best Live Act. Thus, everyone thinks they have traveled back in time to the mid to late nineties and sales of Pogs, Hooch and those slap bracelet things sky rocket.

Cat Power turns up, but all hopes of a deserving award winner in the International Female category are dashed when Noel Edmond’s shows up with a Gotcha, and she realises she’s been had. Beyonce wins, and can’t believe it when she’s presented the award by legendary English footballer, Tony Cottee.

With the night drawing to a close, Russel Brand runs out of clothes to shock and show off his manhood. In a last ditch attempt to appear desirable to the ladies, he cuts off his own penis and pulls the skin around his own body. “Look ladies. I’m like a big penis. Ooh-er. The swine!” The laughter that follows reaches 6.4 on the Richter scale, and the windows shatter on Battersea Dogs Home.

But there’s one solitary figure not joining in with the side splitting. Instead, he stands. He opens his mouth. He shouts. He shouts a word. The word is ‘C*nt!’

The laughter immediately stops. The audience turn to their neighbours and start to discuss. Then realisation dawns upon the whole of the UK. Yes, that man on stage, cavorting in his own penis skin, is a c*nt. Even Brand has a revelation. ‘What am I doing? I am a cunt. From now on, I shall resolve to be a decent, rational human being, and forget my c*ntish ways. Off to c*nt rehab I shall go.”

And so, Brand departs. And like the saintly music presenter/journalist/God he is, Simona Amstell steps upon the stage, as he should have initially done, and finishes the rest of the show, in his own witty, scathing way. This includes retorts about the validity of Oasis’ lifetime contribution award when they’ve only done one and a half albums of merit, and have failed to deliver on the enormous hype that prevails them for over ten years, still dining out on past glories and overt arrogance. The Smiths haven’t won this award yet. Boo!


1 Comment »

  1. […] 2008 – A point of view Filed under: Features — by poppycocteau @ 2:21 am Unlike my last take on this particular high/lowlight of the music calendar, I feel like I should probably write […]

    Pingback by Brit Awards 2008 - A point of view « Experimental Music Love — January 16, 2008 @ 2:21 am |Reply

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