Yes we are quite lazy about actually updating this site, despite relaunching it in a blaze of mediocrity. Oh well! Fortunately there's a big music event happening tonight, but we won't be covering that as we're going to be watching the always disappointing Brit awards instead. We'll probably write it up tomorrow, but we'll definitely be covering it live on twitter (@flumcake) so feel free to join us there as we throw our hurls of disgust out into the cyber-ether. Again.

So, Blue are going to be representing the UK in Eurovision this year. The "Who?" we know, but the "Why?" is something we're still struggling to understand. Perhaps, aware of the fact that Ireland might be sending Jedward overseas, we've decided to send a joke act in as well, or perhaps they overheard someone saying that the UK only wins Eurovision once in a blue moon and got confused. Who knows, the only thing that's certain is that we're going to be the first act to ever get negative points in the competition.

The song is called I Can - which may be an attempt to trick people into voting for it by making them believe they're pre-registering for the latest Apple hypertech gizmo - and, while we've not actually heard it yet, we do know exactly what it's going to sound like and will not be surprised when they start making anguished expressions towards the camera two thirds of the way through the song, just before they get up from their stools in time for the final key change. Antony has certainly been practicing for this moment, having recently been caught with an anguished expression on his face as he stood at a cash machine, not only taking money out and having a conversation on his phone, but embracing the world of multitasking by merrily pissing down his leg as he did so. Still, who says Blue can't produce a number one these days?

Rumours that Lee Ryan is going to have his tongue removed to stop him saying anything stupid before the contest are entirely correct, and are unlikely to hamper his singing ability in anyway whatsoever.

So we went to see The Saturdays in Glasgow yesterday. Up was where we went from here. (Actually, it was West, but the girls have yet to write a song about that particular direction. Selfish cows). The quick review is that they were ace and we liked Mollie the best, but below is all the things they did and didn't do:-

THINGS THE SATURDAYS DID DO

• Have Rubbish Support Bands. First up was Twenty Twenty, who have quite possibly been to the Year 3000 and what they went to school for was advanced teaching in how to rip off Busted, and they were quickly followed by SixD, a sort of singing Flawless, who hoped that constant somersaulting would distract from their poor quality miming and the fact that one of their songs was a blatant rip off of David Guetta's When Love Takes Over. It didn't, but they were better than Twenty Twenty. Although as having your eyes replaced by angry worms would be better than Twenty Twenty this isn't saying much.
  
• Have a Really Odd Opening. We have rhapsodised before about the curtain drop opening where the band appear in silhouette before launching into a suitably mega opening track. The curtain sat covering the front of the stage, the lights dimmed and the crowd began to cheer. Anticipation built, and the sounds of Duck Sauce's Barbara Streisand filled the arena. And then... Then the curtain remained resolutely undropped, as the Saturdays decided that the best way to get the crowd pumped up was, umm, to spend five minutes saying random people's names in the gaps in the song. We presume they were competition winners, and not just people that the girls wanted removed from the arena for security reasons, but it didn't half go on. When the curtain eventually dropped it revealed an empty stage, only for the girls to finally reveal themselves when a lift rose from the back of the stage. Tsk!
  
• Played The Hits. Well they kinda had to really. Although opening with Higher and following it up with Up a couple of songs later is frontloading the set just a little bit. And also showcasing a possibly autistic obsession with that particular direction.
  
• Played Some Album Tracks. Which seemed to go down well enough with the audience, even the ballady stuff, which tends to lead to a rush to the bar, kept the crowd on their feet. Although the "SO WHO THE HELL IS SHE!" shouts weren't loud enough for our liking.
  
• Played Rhianna. But we're not quite sure why. They opened with Love the Way You Lie and we were immediately disappointed they only did the chorus and Mollie didn't do an Eminem impersonation. It's also hard to convincingly sing about being the only girl in the world when there are four other examples of the gender standing next to you.
  
• Shifted Some Stairs Around. Which we believe was supposed to count as stagecraft, but mainly served to look like they were doing their best to keep the band hidden as much as possible. Other examples of stagecraft included holding some helium balloons for Just Can't Get Enough, although it wasn't made clear if this was part of the show or just the girls collecting their payment for the gig a bit early.
  
• Awkwardly Covered The Costume Changes. The highlight of this was probably a filmed insert which purported to be live coverage of the girls going to their dressing room to get changed, which might have been more convincing if we as an audience hadn't been quietly watching this when Rochelle claimed to be able to hear us cheering all the way from her dressing room. Ah, the magic of theatre, so swiftly extinguished :(
  
• Wore Some Nice Outfits. Sigh, etc.

THINGS THE SATURDAYS DIDN'T DO

• Play Keep Her. Grr!

The nominees for the NME Awards were announced yesterday. If you missed them, here's a quick summary: Boyz rool! Girls suck! Guitars forever!

Anyway, to celebrate this attempt to give the magazine something to write about in January valid date in the awards calendar, here are ten entirely true and in no way made up facts about the NME Awards:-

1. Oasis have won every category of award the magazine gives out, including best band, best album, and most fanciable female, the latter coming about during a time in Liam's life where he was "confused".
   
2. The NME Award is a raised middle finger. This is because the NME still believes that swearing on TV is somehow controversial.
   
3. Females are eligible for a number of awards, but aren't allowed to attend the ceremony as they have "cooties" and other forms of girl germs.
   
4. The NME Awards were originally set up as it was felt the Brit Awards didn't properly reflect the music scene. Said a spokesman at the time "The Brits give prizes to a lot of terrible bands, and we feel there's a whole genre of awful music they're completely ignoring. We want to give our rubbish music a chance to wither in the spotlight as well".
   
5. One of the signs of Armageddon and the general end of the world, as foretold in the Book of Revelation in the bible, is Muse not receiving a nomination for Best Live Band.
   
6. The awards are normally hosted by a comedian, although their material tends to fall flat when compared to the jokes who actually receive the prizes.
   
7. The Philip Hall Radar award is given to a band who the writing staff feel are exciting and innovative and destined for big things. They will never ever be heard of again.
   
8. They also award a prize for "Godlike Genius", which is normally given out ironically to acts who have produced little of any actual worth, but who are a bit old and have the night of the ceremony free.
   
9. During the Britpop years, an administration error led to most of the prizes being awarded to Chas & Dave.
   
10. They should really bring back the Smash Hits Poll Winners Party, shouldn't they?

It's Tuesday the 25th of January and celebrating their birthday by booking emergency Botox treatments today is Alicia Keys. Her judgement is already beginning to fail her, despite only just turning 30 as evidenced when she decided that her chorus section of Empire State of Mind, despite being as boring as an enthusiastic woodworm and full of the sort of passion normally reserved for a song about granite, should be expanded into a song in it's own right.

The number one 5 years ago today was Arctic Monkeys with When the Sun Goes Down, a song entirely based around the realisation that some places are a bit more dangerous at night. It's worth remembering that the Arctic Monkeys were hailed as lyrical geniuses, and with insights like that we're not surprised.

10 years ago it was Limp Bizkit with Rollin', and Fred Durst's "14 year old boy who's just been asked to tidy his room" sulky schtick seemed embarrassing and dated even then. In-between making godawful records, Fred paid the bills by playing the role of Kevin the Teenager in Harry Enfield's sketch shows.

And finally, 20 years ago it was Queen's Innuendo that was propping up the top of the charts. If you're not sure what Queen were like, picture a band fronted by Louis Spence. Only with Louis Spence able to sing. And dance. And not be an irritating twat.

...and that's the sort of cutting edge headline that can only be in reference to an equally cutting edge music news story. Yes, we're pleased to announce that Emma Bunton and Jade Jones have got engaged. Apparently. The news was announced on the entirely reliable source of Twitter, but as this is now the 21st century, it only becomes official when she changes her Facebook relationship status to "engaged". (And incidentally, we'd like to recommend the new Beyonce plug in for Facebook. It's exactly the same as normal, but instead of having a "Like" button it has "Put a ring on it".)

While Emma currently earns a living as a judge on Dancing On Ice, a job for which she is as qualified for as we are to be a brain surgeon, you will, of course, know her mainly from her time in the Spice Girls, where she "was" Baby Spice, a role which required her to wear her hair in bunches, dress in little girl-esque clothes, talk about loving her teddy and generally act like someone who wasn't a fully grown adult. This was the late nineties where you could get away with such things, nowadays any record company executive who suggested such a thing would have their house burnt down for being a suspected paedophile before he'd even finished the sentence, but they were more innocent times, before the horrific events in 2001 shocked us all and made us a more troubled and fearful people. We are, of course, referring to Geri Halliwell's cover of It's Raining Men.

On the other hand, you might know her husband to be if... you know him. He's probably the least famous Jade in the world, and we are including the one from the Sugababes in our calculations here. He did have minor pop success in the nineties with the band Damage - don't go to YouTube, it's not worth it - although even then his profile was so negligible that his appearances in magazines - normally with his new fiancee - always included a brief description of who he was, to the extent Emma is going to have to take "From Damage" as her married name.

Still, we wish them all the best, and look forward to the reading the inevitable made up stories about which of her former bandmates doesn't get asked to be a bridesmaid. By the way, our money's on Mel C mainly because tracksuits don't really cut it as wedding wear, even if you use lace for the stripes up the side of each leg.

Miniature popstar Avril Lavigne has a new single coming out soon. It's called What The Hell, because Avril is young and rebellious and so full of attitude that she might as well be a WH Smith's opposite a gay bar. And because she's not allowed to use the word "fuck". Despite loving Avril in a way that makes Romeo and Juliet seem like a tale of mild infatuation, we're officially "unsure" about it, but we reckon it's probably s grower and at least it's miles better than the song she did for the Alice in Wonderland soundtrack. Although as the sound of a million kittens yowling in agony would have sounded better, that's not really saying much. Still, to celebrate her return, here are 10 entirely true and in no way made up facts about the entirely true and in no way made up concept of hell:-

1. Sarte once claimed that "Hell is other people". Amazingly, he said this 60 years before the existence of Take Me Out.
   
2. Hell is popularly depicted as being a land filled with fire, and there are few horrifying ways of spending the afterlife than being forced to listen to that godawful Kasabian song for all eternity.
   
3. Many metal bands are heavily influenced by traditional imagery of hell, although the cover art is rarely as disturbing as either the music within, or the sight of the t-shirt stretched to bursting point over the metal fan's more than ample gut.
   
4. Also, the fondness of metal bands to pledge their allegiance to Satan happily disproved the theory that the devil has all the best tunes.
   
5. Many people think that the soundtrack to hell is Chris Moyles' Breakfast Show on a constant loop. They're wrong, even the devil isn't that cruel.
   
6. If you're of the female persuasion, its unlikely you'll go to hell as, famously, while good girls go to heaven, bad girls go everywhere. Bad boys, on the other hand, is a disappointing action film starring Will Smith and Martin Lawrence.
   
7. Hell is where you go if you're bad, though not in the Michael Jackson sense. Mind you, Michael Jackson eould clearly have gone to hell regardless.
   
8. Neil Hannon named his band after Dante's Divine Comedy, a satire that described who would be held in each circle of hell and the punishments that would be meted out to them. The lyrics for National Express were taken directly from the appendix.
   
9. AC/DC were keen to let the world know they were on the highway to hell. Dressing up as a school boy when you're a fully grown adult does tend to out you in the fast lane to eternal damnation. Especially if you try and enrol in your local secondary.
   
10. The tendency of an iPhone to correct "hell" to "he'll" is a right bugger when you're trying to write something like this.

Sony and Universal have come up with with a groundbreaking idea that is guaranteed to shake the world of music to it's very foundations. We recommend that you sit down before we break this earth shattering news to you. Are you ready? Ok. Here we go.

They're going to start selling songs a bit earlier than they used to.

You might want to take a moment to let the enormity of this news sink in. It's hard to imagine what this brave new world is going to be like. We hope there aren't going to be any riots.

Yes, the latest big idea to "save" the music industry - which must be doing alright if they can afford to pay people to come up with such blatantly obvious moves as this - is to let people buy tracks on the sane day as they're released to radio, which is big news for people who want a copy of the song the minute they've heard it, but would prefer one without Chris Moyles babbling incoherently over the end of it which is normally your only option before the official release date. Uh, we'd imagine.. This is being hyped up as a major change, but in reality the only actual difference will be that millions of people will be able to ignore Matt Cardle's follow up single the instant they hear it, rather than having to wait a week to do so. Which by our reckoning will shorten his fifteen minutes of fame down to about eleven, so at least some good will come of it.

Louis Walsh has been claiming that Cheryl Cole and Simon Cowell won't be returning to the X Factor this year as they'll be making more money doing the more lucrative American version whatever unbelievable cover story they've yet to come up with. Of course, this story should be taken with a pinch of salt as even the caterers are more likely to get insider gossip than Louis - he has to rely on Heat's TV guide to tell him when the show goes back on the air - but assuming it is true, who's likely to fill Cheryl's big shoes and Simon's even bigger trousers in the judging hot seats? After all, it's not an easy job to convincingly declare that a half arsed piece of by the numbers is "the performance of the night", and not everyone can pull off that look of worried concern that Cheryl does so well. (Although if you want to give it a shot, just imagine you can smell dog shit, but aren't entirely sure where it's coming from.) Here's a lookout some of the potential contenders:-

• The Churchill Dog - Due to his constant, uncritical nodding and inability to say anything interesting, Churchill would be a perfect X Factor judge, although his belief that everything is worth an "Oh, Yes!" may cause problems during the audition stages, with all manner of crap acts making it through to boot camp thanks to his thumbs up. May therefore prove to be more suitable as a future replacement for Louis Walsh.
  
• The Re-Animated Corpse of Hitler - Every show needs a hate figure, and while the shrew like face of Dannii Minogue may raise a few hackles, she's unlikely to make the audience react in the venomous way that the pantomime atmosphere of the X Factor studio needs. The Re-Animated Corpse of Hitler, with his harsh German vowels, disdain for any songs that aren't performed in an oompah style, and refusal to even listen to any Jewish acts will soon make him the judge the audience loves to hate. It's unsure at this stage whether he will be considered as a replacement for Simon or Cheryl.
  
• The Whole of Twitter - Twitter always has an opinion on the X Factor, and every Saturday night the site is guaranteed to be filled with people expressing their views on the night's proceedings. Indeed, there is no greater joy than checking your timeline, only to discover your feed is filled with nothing but badly spelt messages of devotion, expressions of desire towards acts that could land the user a place on the sex offender's register, and complaints about the fact that everyone's timeline is filled up with X Factor related tweets. It seems only right that this wisdom should be captured and given the proper influence on proceedings. Although the whole of twitter may not make the most of this opportunity and may instead claim that Justin Bieber is dead before starting a vaguely misogynistic hash tag.
  
• The Whole of Facebook - In protest at the sheep like nature of the X Factor audience, they will back whichever anti-establishment act the most popular Facebook group tells them they should, entirely failing to see the irony in this.
  
• An Actual Judge - Judges are stereotypically considered to be out of touch and are unlikely to have much knowledge of the current music scene. But that's never been a problem for X Factor in the past, so we don't really envisage it being an issue now.
  
• Aleksandr Orlov - Can use his skill and expertise in comparing meerkats to split the difference between the equally identical and hard to differentiate cookie cutter acts who make the live final every year.
  
• Lenny Henry - Because he would stand a decent chance of knowing what a young Lenny Henry actually looks like.
  
• Every Contestant's Big Sister - Cheryl is always quick to claim that she's like a big sister to every act she mentors - and, just like all big sisters she immediately deletes her younger siblings' phone numbers from her mobile the minute they get voted off the contest - so this important role of being seemingly empathetic without actually demonstrating any real emotions or opinions will need to be filled.
  
• OFCOM - With the communications regulator receiving hundreds of calls each week from idiot viewers who somehow believe that the rules of a game show should be governed by the same legislative process as those surrounding the act of murder, it makes sense that they should be more fully involved so that any breach can be dealt with instantly and, if found to be guilty, Dermot can be hanged live on the Sunday night results show, which will be much more of a ratings hit than Take That appearing. Again.

Labels: Cheryl Cole, Simon Cowell, X Factor

JLS are apparently planning on making a movie. We presume this is entirely for artistic reasons and not an attempt to take what little pocket money their young, uncritical fanbase have left after spending all their cash on JLS dolls, posters and specially branded dildos. This momentous film is unlikely to trouble the Oscar committee - other than in the sense that they may find the fact it actually exists troubling - but even so it will probably sell a ridiculous amount of tickets, even if those tickets are divided amongst the same small group of people who will go and see it again and again, presumably in a desperate search for some sort of subtext. We're never ones to shy away from a blatant money making opportunity here at Talent in a Previous Life, and are going to submit our own half-baked script for the project. Which will still be a lot more baked than the final film will be. As a taster, here's an exclusive look at our very own pitch for JLS: The Club Is Alive:-

Tired of their pop star lifestyles and wanting to do something a bit more productive, JLS have quit and have decided to open up their very own pest control business. Sadly it's not proving to be a success. It's another quiet day at JLS: Exterminations, based in Hove. Unused equipment can be seen scattered around the office, while Marvin, Oritsé and JB stare hopefully at the phones, willing them to ring. "This is ridiculous!", cried Oritsé in an anguished voice. JB stopped twiddling his thumbs for a second and looked angrily over at him. "Shush!", he said crossly, You'll wake little baby Aston if you're not careful!". Little baby Aston, the adopted child of JLS was sleeping in his high chair, unconsciously sucking his thumb, his youthful innocence untroubled by all the commotion.

"Sorry", said Oritsé, glad that little baby Aston hadn't been awoken by his outburst, "But it is ridiculous".

"What is?", asked Marvin, "The fact our extermination business hasn't had a job in weeks? The fact we're so poor we'd be walking around naked if my sister wasn't kind enough to provide us with her old tops for us to wear? Or is it the fact that we insist on dressing in colour coded clothing, despite the fact we're fully grown adults and not actually taking part in a game show?"

"No, it's not that", said Oritsé uncomfortably fingering his low cut top, "It's my name. It's a right bugger to spell".

Marvin was about to respond to this, but fortunately for the film's rating he was interrupted by the phone ringing before he could let loose a volley of cuss words. The three men leapt towards it, while little baby Aston let out a whimper and soiled himself in his sleep. JB was the first to get to it and eagerly picked up the receiver. "You've reached Just Louse Solutions, how can I help you? ... Yes? ... Yes? ... It's not rats is it? Only we don't deal with rats. We only deal with louses. It says so in our name" - At this point Marvin groaned, convinced that one of the main reasons for their lack of success is the pest control business was JB's insistence on only dealing with louse infestations, for no other reason than it was the best acronym he could come up with - "OK, we'll be right there.". He hung up the phone. "Guys, get the van. We're going to Destiny's nightclub. It's an emergency!."

"Why?!", asked Oritsé, "What's the problem?"

Marvin struck a dramatic pose in front of a flattering lighting effect. "The club is alive! With cockroaches!"

There was a pause. "Oh. Fair enough", said Oritsé, and he sauntered out towards the van.

* * * * *
The boys are in the van, heading towards Destiny's. Little Baby Aston is safely strapped in the car seat and is gurgling happily, while JB and Oritsé argue about whether a cockroach actually is a type of louse or not. Marvin is driving and brings up something that's been bothering him since the call. "Um, guys...", he said nervously, "How exactly do you kill a cockroach?".

JB was quick to take charge of the situation. "It's easy! All you do is grab your cockroach stick..." - he gestured towards the back of the van - "...and beat them. And if that doesn't work then you just have to beat again. Just beat again". He demonstrated with a beating motion which, like a certain Wii advert, made it look like he was enthusiastically masturbating. Marvin looked uncomfortable but tried not to think about it as he pulled up outside the club while JB continued doing his own brand of pulling. The boys piled out of the van, with Oritsé carrying little baby Aston - who was clutching a teddy bear - and they looked at the battleground ahead of them. This was going to get messy. Which at least was traditional for Destiny's, being the sort of club where people are refused entry for being too sober and the stench of vomit stinks more than a Justin Bieber album.

The manager greeted the band and explained the situation to them. Pausing only to leave little baby Aston safely in his office, where the manchild amused himself by playing with a cardboard box, JLS walked into the club, nervously clutching their cockroach sticks and jumping at the sound of each insectoid scuttle. "There's one!", cried JB, lashing out wildly with his stick. "Another!", shouted Oritsé, whacking the ground like his life depended on it. Marvin was terrified, it was like a nightmare. All around him were cockroaches. They were everywhere! Oritsé and JB were less concerned and were soon surrounded by piles of cockroach corpses. Oritsé was impressed by JB's enthusiastic whacking style, which hadn't stopped since he started demonstrating it in the van. It certainly appeared to be more effective than Oritsé's own technique, as not only was JB creating a pile of dead cockroaches, they also appeared to be covered in a sticky looking substance that he could only assume was cockroach blood, despite its unusual colour. Marvin couldn't take the fear and the bloodshed any more and ran and hid in a corner of the dancefloor where he held his cockroach stick protectively in front of him and softly sobbed to himself.

Soon, it was all over. Oritsé and JB were tired and sweaty, they'd even taken their tops off in an entirely non gratuitous fashion. There were no cockroaches left. Well, no alive ones anyway. Marvin slowly began to stand and was about to rejoin his bandmates when he suddenly froze in fear. Out of the corner of his eye he could see one last cockroach, and it was coming straight towards him. "Guys!", he screamed. Like a girl. "Guys! It's coming to get me! You have to help me!!!!".

JB and Oritsé heard his shouts and saw the danger, but they were unable to do anything. "I can't help!", shouted JB, "I've just gone blind! And the palms of my hands have gone all hairy!". "For some unknown reason!", he added, unconvincingly. Oritsé had his own problems to deal with. "I can't come over either", he shouted, in what he hoped was a reassuring way, "But if you die I promise I will come to your funeral. Unfortunately I've just noticed a stray chest hair and I've got to wax it off immediately!" and with that he pulled out his emergency tub of veet and got straight to work.

"Oh god!", Marvin gibbered. He was going to have to do this himself. He thought back to the advice from the van and tried to gather together his frayed nerves. "Icantdothis, icantdothis, icantdothis" he muttered to himself as he prepared to die. The cockroach was getting nearer and nearer, its antennae wobbling in a way that may have been aggression or may just have been due to vibrations, it was hard to tell, what with it being a cockroach and, as such, not really capable of expressing any emotions.

Even with his blindness, JB could tell Marvin was in trouble. He did his best to ignore the distracting throb of pain between his legs and tried to focus on the problem. "Think of Little baby Aston!", he shouted, "Just do it! Kill the cockroach! Remember, you only get One Shot!". Marvin heard him, and the realisation cut through him like a knife. Of course he had to do it for little baby Aston! The kid needed a father figure - or as close as it was possible to get to one with the members of JLS - he had to show him what it meant to be a man. While he was thinking this, the cockroach saw its moment and started to run towards him. Or scuttle faster. Whatever it is cockroaches do. We're not experts. Suddenly there was a scream, then silence. "Oh god!", wept JB as he heard it, "The cockroach got Marvin!".

"Uh, no", said a sheepish Oritsé, "That was me. I just pulled the wax off and it kinda stung"

Marvin ignored their exchange. Aggression was building up inside him and he'd never felt this way before. Suddenly it was all too much and it spilled over like an F1 winners champagne bottle, or JB after a particularly enthusiastic session. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Marvin hit the ground harder than he'd ever hit anything before, with a hardness that was the exact opposite of the soft nature of his band's recorded output. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! He hit and hit and hit until the cockroach was dead. "I did it!" he yelled triumphantly. WHACK! WHACK WHACK! WHACK! Marvin looked confused, as he'd already thrown his stick away in triumph, until he looked across and saw JB, who was unable to resist any longer. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! went JB. WHACK! WHACK WHACK!

The boys left the club, accompanied by the manager, who was thanking them profusely. "The whole town are going to be grateful for this. Without us they'd have nowhere to fight on a Friday night. And it's not just my business you've saved. Every chemist who provides the morning after pill owes you a debt of gratitude.", and to prove a point, as they stepped out on to the street the entire population of Hove was there to greet them. They cheered and chanted and acted like seeing JLS in the flesh was the best thing to ever happen to them. Which it quite possibly was. And as one, everybody in hove puts their hands up. The boys exchange a smug grin and the screen fades to black. The end.

NOTE: The premise has been written to incorporate JLS hits into the screenplay, but it's so subtle that it won't spoil the narrative thread. If it's felt that the target audience may be turned off by a script which is, admittedly, largely cockroach based, then these can be replaced by puppies, which the audience may find cuter. Although please bear in mind that teenage girls may find the prospect of their pop idols bludgeoning puppies to death even more distressing.