Rant round-up

Howdo folks. Originally my next blog was going to be about the tarts who sell their stories to the newspapers after shagging a footballer, but a couple of other things got on my tits before I got to my computer, so I'm going to have a bit of a round-up instead, to get everything off my chest in one go. Enjoy.

Bloody R 'n' B. Again

Everyone knows I hate R 'n' B, but recently I heard a song from this cess-like genre that I actually liked. I'm talking of Jay-Z's new one (no idea what it's called. Frankly I don't care). The thing is though, the only good bit about it is the sample that runs throughout it. Therefore, my question is this: When was the last time someone released an R 'n' B tune that didn't contain any samples whatsoever? I'm guessing the 40's, when R 'n' B was proper music; not this gun-toting cobblers 'sung' by shirtless blokes covered in gold and fake-breasted birds. They make a bloody fortune out of other people's work. All they do is say 'yo', 'ice' and 'west side' over the top. Piece of piss.

And another thing - all musicians in every genre get a certain reputation, be it good or bad, to the extent that some people won't listen to their music as soon as they know it's them. R 'n' B is no different, so may I suggest you stop saying everybody's names at the start of the record, then you might get a few more listeners.


Kiss 'n' tell slags

I try not to read the red-tops (not that it's particularly difficult to not read the barely-literate tripe they serve up), mainly because every day some bimbo has shagged a footballer and the paper (being on the social pulse) knows we want to hear about every last detail. We really don't, you unclean slappers, but clearly some section of society must lap this cobblers up. The thing is, nobody ever calls the young nymph's morals into question, when she shags someone and immediately goes blabbing to the papers, complete with obligatory bikini snap. It's obvious they're furthering their pathetic glamour careers by doing this but nobody ever says owt.

The latest offering is some hairdressing munter who's supposedly had Cashley Cole. The story is astonishing; tales of him chucking up in the taxi and off the side of the bed mid-shag (only to rinse with some mouthwash and hop back on) and him slapping her arse so hard their was an imprint of his wedding ring on the cellulite-riddled buttock. Reading this tale of debauchery is bad enough, but when you consider that this woman repeatedly states she doesn't like footballers and wasn't really impressed with him, it goes against the fact that she shagged him anyway, vomit and all. She didn't sell her story to out a cheating husband; she just wanted the brass. I personally hope he's given her the clap and she loses her job for being such a morally-vacuous tramp.

And as for Cole? Yeah, to be fair, if I had Cheryl Tweedy at home I'd cheat as well. Pillock.


Immediate smokers

The smoking ban is a good thing. That quote was taken directly from the Government's last manifesto by the way, and it's right. More people are quitting and we're now treated to the smell of BO and farts in nightclubs. However, people who immediately light a cig when they leave a building really piss me off.

I went into Tescos the other day, and got stuck behind a minging old couple lighting up in the doorway. What got me was they were parked miles away, so they had ages to light up. But no, they had to give in to the sweet taste of nicotine the second they left the building. I briefly considered killing the pair of them for being selfish and getting in my way, but I thought 'what's the point?'. In a court of law I'd get done for stoving their heads in with a shopping trolley, while they're free to pollute the doorways of buildings with their stale smoke. There's no justice sometimes.