#15 MTV VMA WTF?

Last night I witnessed an event that I will never be able to forget. If aliens landed and suddenly decided to judge us by what we watch, they would have thought we were incomprehensible, half naked, egotistical morons, half of which needed sunglasses to be able to see indoors.

This event was, of course, the MTV Video Music Awards. It doesn't as much present awards to the best but rather to the 'artist' with fans who are willing to vote 73 times without blinking. It also serves as a sounding board for new releases by the worlds biggest strippers...I mean...pop stars. This year was no exception with the likes of Lady Gaggag, Kanye Northwest and Katherine Perry all vying for your attention using various methods. Lady Gaga opened the show by staring at us with egg white surrounding her face. I was simply watching the show but I felt like she was in the room with me, judging me for being too normal looking. She proceeded to produce rhythmic noise and change outfits periodically throughout. There was a big sign behind her which said 'applause' which is rumoured to be the name of the noise but could also be a reminder to the audience once it ends. Then the show sprinted through awards that had been handed out to non celeb, technical folk in a matter of seconds. Because we don't want to see people, we want freaks and boy did we see one next.

UK viewers could have known in advance what was about to appear as we had the broadcast a day later but those in the crowd were oblivious to the torture they were about to witness. A performance featuring man of the summer, Robin Thicke and former child talent turned slut, Miley Cyrus the Virus. She came out of a teddy bear and decided her best attribute was her irregularly sized tongue as she continuously protracted it out of her mouth every 4 seconds. She was apparently singing but my ears couldn't decipher the chords or lyrics. The drivel eventually stopped and out came Thicke who was about to get an inch thicker once he encountered Cyrus. His uber-hit Blurred Lines kicked in and Miley played along and danced promiscuously around her mate until she presented herself to him in the style of, what the kids call 'twerking' and promptly twerked her bottom inside Robin Thicke's crotch. It was sickening. There were little kids in that audience, 'lil Suzy, 'lil Bobby, 'lil Kim. The day after, a photo emerged of Will Smith and his kids looking positively shocked at what they were seeing, Jaden was beyond shock and he was in After Earth so he knows bad when he sees it. Miley eventually scuttled backstage either aware of the uproar that would follow or oblivious to her actions.

But alas the earth continued to rotate and the show went on.

The rest of the show consisted of various black people who I didn't recognise (no, they don't all look the same, I just don't know them) and attempted to be funny by saying "ass like a yam","damn girl" and doing some gang sign with their hands whenever they said more than 4 words. It kinda looks when you spill beer on your fingers and you need to flick it off. One Direction won some shit and talked some nonsense and that was pretty much it.

Justin Timberlake and Bruno Mars performed and won some awards. They actually contain some talent and was the only watchable part of the show. Katy Perry then closed the proceedings with a elaborate boxing ring set and a song we couldn't really hear very well due to her lack of skill when it comes to live gigs.

Is this what music is nowadays? How can MTV present awards for music when their main channel doesn't broadcast any? All they show now is two-worded reality experiments. Is it any wonder kids are getting dumber and hang around street corners more than ever before? It's because they can only learn speech from passers by and they then reteach it to their 'crew in form of chinese whispers.

Wanna see how bad music is at the moment? Go to channel 350 (or 310 if you're poor) and scroll through one at a time. This is the common result:

Unknown Rnb

Gaga

Unknown RnB

Advert

Nostalgic Tat

Old Rock chart

Rnb

Old Pop chart

Chart show

Chart show 

Scuzz?!

Chart Show

Advert

Advert

Beyonce

If you get to women's cricket you've gone too far.

My Daughter in a Nutshell

Name?

Amelia Rose Yates. Also goes by name of Millie Moo, Baba and Naughty!

Age?

17 months.

Key Skills

Clapping hands, taking PS3 games out of the console, eating, disconnecting the broadband.

Likes?

Peppa Pig (episode Goldie the Fish), drinking other people's drinks, Hollyoaks theme tune, hiding behind curtains.

Dislikes?

Having her nails cut, having her hair washed, having her hair dried, goodbyes.

First word?

Dada

Currently...

Infected with Chicken-Pox.

Typical Day?

7.30am wake up, 8am breakfast, 11am-1pm nap time, 1.30pm lunch, 2-6pm playtime, 6.30pm dinner, 7.30pm bath, 8pm read books, 830pm bottle and sleepy times.

Fave film? 

Beauty and the Beast

Fave songs?

Brokenhearted by Karmin, 212 by Azelia Banks.

Fave Toy?

At the moment this ...

Fave parent?

Well she can only say Dada so what do you think?

Most likely to be when she grows up?

Thief

Adam Yates

Bonus - Bale in a Nutshell

Ok let's begin...WTF is a Gareth Bale?

Arguably it's not an it but a he. He is human. Well he's Welsh so lets say half human.

Occupation?

Footballer turned global brand. Employed by Tottenham Hotspur but currently subject to a headhunting bid by Rèal Madrid.

Rèal Madrid? They're good.

Yeah. If you compared clubs to TV stations, Tottenham are BBC Three (plucky but ultimately lose their best shows to BBC1) and Madrid are Sky One (throws cash at any show that's already established, steals it and airs it even though less people will watch).

So is Gareth good or is he over the hill?

Not at all. He's not even reached his prime according to pundits. In today's market, he's totally worth the £100 million that Rèal have offered.

£100 MILLION?! I could buy 16 pairs of pants from Hollister for that and still get some change?

Ermmm.....I guess.

Don't players have contracts?

They do but they're written on invisible ink it seems as Gareth Bale has had 5 new contracts doled out in the last 5 years. His latest one runs out in 2016 hence the large bid.

Why Spain and not an English team?

Simply put, Bale's own performances have priced him out of what English clubs can afford. Add to that, the fact that Spurs don't want him lining up against them twice a year and making them look foolish to their fans who once adored him. Spain as seen as the holy grail of a footballers career due to its history and financial strengths.

Financial Strengths?! Spain are broke? I saw it on Top Gear.

As are Rèal Madrid. But they have enormous long term loans that keep them afloat. Luckily not provided by Wonga.

If Tottenham sell, what will they do with the money?

Firstly Spurs will have to...

Woahhh..Who the fuck are Spurs?

Sorry, Spurs is the nickname of Tottenham Hotspur.

Oh ok. Continue

Spurs will have to give £2 million to Southampton FC. They trained Bale and as such they receive compensation.

Sweet!

No, not sweet. Originally they were also due to receive 15% of any future sale of Bale which would have meant a minimum of £10 million however they relinquished that clause when they ran into financial difficulty a few years back. Spurs threw them a couple mil to keep them afloat and subsequently miss out on the big pay day this summer.

That's fucking sly that.

Bit funny though.

Haha yeah. So when's he off then?

The deadline for summer transfers is 31st August and Gareth has been suspiciously absent from all of Tottenham's pre season games. Of course he could stay until January but the fee would come down.

Sounds like a done deal. Is that it? Can I get on with my life now that I've given you 2 minutes of my attention? Will you stop hassling me to 'Like' and 'Share' this fucking blog?

Yes, yes and no.

Adam Yates

#14 Quote Me Happy!

If you were asked by a stranger on the street on a scale of 1-100 how happy you're generally feeling, would you reply with 77? Because that's what the latest figures suggest coming out of a government survey published this week. National happiness is at 77% which is a small rise from the previous year. Some have suggested that we're somehow still drunk from the Olympics and the Diamond Jubilee and that when we wake up everyday, we just reminisce about Super Saturday and Prince Phillip's pneumonia battle watching that shit regatta on the Thames.

So if you don't believe in the above, then what else is the cause for our glee? The robots fighting monsters flick Pacific Rim came out last week and coincidentally is scoring a 7.7/10 on IMDB. Could the survey have been mistakenly held near a local Odeon and had simply caught all of the recent cinema goers? Probably not. Emeli Sande has been moderately quiet since the Olympics. That's enough to make anyone ecstatic but she's got a new video out this week so it can't be that. Maybe it's simply down to one thing....life is good at the moment. But would you give your life a 7/10? I wouldn't. Yes I have a lovely home that's filled with modern facilities, a wife, daughter and a toastie maker but the coalition didn't give me any of that. I have a job that's considerably underpaid and one that lives in a challenging industry that's competing with the likes of Amazon who pay no corporation tax. What about the constant cuts to council budgets that will soon see us lose our culture, playing fields and police officers?

What the survey doesn't tell us is maybe the most important details....when and where? If I wanted to 'juke' the stats of this particular questionnaire, I'd only ask at a certain time of day. If it were London, I'd ask on a Friday at 5.01pm in a beer garden. If it were Bradford, it would be outside the benefit office when someone has just been handed a cheque for applying for 2.5 jobs. But seriously, the timing of the survey is important especially if they asked the public on the weekend. Obviously nearly all of us would prefer to be off work during weekends but we can't have everything. Did you know a massive 27% of working Britain work Sundays compared to 15% of the rest of the EU? Deducting 27 from 100 leaves 73 which is mightily close to the 77% figure. Surely the government rang the middle class on the sly on Sunday afternoon whilst us minions were working for 'the man' thereby giving themselves the best chance of happiness? Especially if they rang between Sunday Brunch and Channel 5's Sunday movie marathon as no one can resist the charm of Simon Rimmer and Flight of the Navigator on the same afternoon?!

Overall I can't simply believe that such a high amount of people are 'that happy'. We're a nation a fucking moaning twats, me included. We watch depressing soaps such as Eastenders but have Ofcom on speed dial just in case Phil Mitchell shows the glimpse of a blood-soaked pube. We are convinced the countries is full of rapists, immigrants and nunchucks even though recorded crime is at a 20 year low. Music has never been more retarded thanks mostly to incomprehensible RnB filling the charts. Danny Dyer still finds work and Craig David is convinced he will still 'break America' simply because he has enough money to fly there. Freddo's cost....ya know I don't even know how much they cost anymore. The country's on its arse, how can anyone be happy?

Five ways to make Britain happier -

1. Dress down Fridays for everyone....even Pallbearers, Scallies and that security guard by the baskets in Primark.

2. The ability to safely turn left on a red light.

3. Hand drawn Disney films.

4. Ban the production of sad looking dogs made out of sand in City Centres.

5. Limit the National Lottery show to 10 minutes and 2 draws.

See? Aren't you happier in a world that doesn't feature Sand-Dogs? So to summarise, that survey is a load of me arse? I leave you with this.

Scouting for Girls have released a Greatest Hits album? Still 77% happy?

Adam Yates

#13 The Kate Wait is Over!

The following exchange was made between a Sky News correspondent and a medical expert outside the hospital where Kate had just arrived in labour following a confirmation by the Royal Family:

Sky - "Can we take it as some kind of sign that she's soon to give birth now?"

Expert - "Errrr yes she's ready to have the baby."

It's clear from that pow-wow that however many months of preparation the press has had to cover this story, ultimately they only have two real pieces of news to cover. One being the announcement of labour, the other the announcement of birth. Between that is up to them. Dozens of experts have been on standby for their moment in the spotlight but when it was first reported it seemed like the only ones available were the unemployed ones that were up early enough to answer the phone. By lunchtime the real professional experts were preparing to sit down behind their messy academic bookshelves to be beamed via satellite into our homes.

As Sky once more put it ever so eloquently "The Kate wait is nearly over."

Luckily the child is being born into a open society where he/she is free to pursue any career aspirations they so wish and not be forced into any type of occupation...

The baby will be called HRH Prince or Princess X of Cambridge, and will one day be head of the armed forces, supreme governor of the Church of England, and the head of state of 16 countries, as well as head of the Commonwealth.

So a super-soldier, a mega-vicar and leader of over a dozen nations. Not bad for someone who hasn't yet mastered the art of opening their eyes or controlling their bowels.

But I'm getting ahead of myself, The Guardian opened up their live blog coverage almost immediately, usually reserved for middle eastern revolutions and hacking scandals and gave us the advanced credentials of Dr Alan Farthing as seen below:

So who will be there? As far as we know, Prince William is with his wife; also present will be the Queen's obstetrician and gynaecologist team of Marcus Setchell and Alan Farthing. Farthing was the fiance of murdered BBC presenter Jill Dando.

I hope that Alan is able to concentrate on delivering this baby and not dwelling on his murdered soulmate because Kate needs the best and the best she indeed has. A state of the art delivery suite with 'Satellite TV and champagne on ice if the parents wish to celebrate after birth.' Having seen after-birth, drinking champagne would be the last thing I would do to settle my troubling tum.

By 2pm the latest theory seems to be revolving around the fact that a full moon was responsible for kick starting many a broken water but many scientists have no actual proof of this. Due to lack of evidence the cameras turn (literally) to focus on the amount of press situated outside the hospital. ITV's Daybreak seemed to think the whole thing is ridiculous before cutting to their own correspondent who has been given a shit vantage near the bins and the homeless man who claims to invented the speech bubble.

By now the Twittersphere was having a orgy of hashtags thrown at them. #royalbaby #royalbabynames #Diana and most alarmingly #Tescofood. Photoshop creativity went into full production mostly riffing on either The Lion King or that John Terry has struck his sexual balls into the royal goal.

Meanwhile back at The Guardian, the blog appeared to realise the trouble they were in by republishing derogatory comments about its own coverage as if they know it's pathetic but they can't stop now:

@Suzanne_Moore wrote "Things that need banning. Live blogging the dilation of a woman's cervix actually."

Monday 5pm - And still no royal declaration. To fill the blog, The Guardian decided to shame publicly owned properties into showing their patriotism and verbally called out Trafalgar Square and The Shard to put on special events or displays to which they caved almost immediately by turning the lights on blue or pink dependant on the sex of the baby.

Over the pond, the US networks were having a field day drafting in posh looking chaps such Ben 'Typhoo' Fogle to be a special correspondent for the day. Kind of like when Newsround sends some kids to the premiere of The Chronicles of Narnia to ask childish cutesy questions like "what's your favourite colour in a rainbow?".

Breaking news! Nearly 12 hours after the initial labour announcement we have a baba boy. Which means 2% less press intrusion but 277% more sex scandals in the 2033 Sunday People. Less Hello magazine features and more of that horse sport with a stick. So it was all wrapped up in one day which is nice. The worlds media will carry on until Kate leaves the hospital and probably follow her in a tunnel ironically. But before that we get a quick glimpse of the future king when they wheel her out for show. The child's limb movements, according to the following days papers either resembles a royal wave or a two fingered salute.

Tuesday 8am - BBC Breakfast are at Buckingham Palace watching a 200 year old announcement easel just in case it bursts into flames. Suzanne Reid doesn't look as fit in the outdoors, BBC should write that in their annual report. Back in the studio, they've roped in the boss of Mothercare to talk about merchandise having estimated over £200 million will be spent on spin off products but the boss ended up saying it won't make too much difference in his shops so that was useful.

The editors pages are littered with complaints that the royal baby story has been milked to the max and license fee payers will demand the head of BBC news's head on a pike and placed on the bones of Jimmy Saville and Gordon the Gopher.

And so the world finally reverts back to normal. It's now Wednesday 5pm. The royal parents have took their child to one of those counties with Shire at the end to get some Middleton support and its back to the usual 24 hrs news. You know what I mean. Those high court results that you don't really care about but are more interested in what movie posters are on the London buses behind the reporter. Maybe a government U-Turn on something involving a pasty. It's a shame Have I Got News for You isn't on air at the moment as you wouldn't have to look far for some light hearted banter regarding it all. I leave you with the Daily Express letters column and the readers who clearly hate the kerfuffle but love the attention their words will get if printed so they try to act like massive ball-sacks.

Goodnight you prince of Cambridge, future King of England. May the lullabylic tone of The Archers send you into a 5* sleep on a bed filled with dodo feathers.

Adam Yates