that i ended up watching the end of the nme awards tonight. remember kids: you're only as rock 'n' roll as your hair is messy, so get scruffing up those mops or no one's ever gonna want to talk to you.
the winners: lauren laverne was the only lady 'nominated' for an award - in the respectable category of radio show, as it happens, but the only female winner was actually Madonna for Sexiest Female, which, let's face it, even the NME couldn't have let Pete Doherty or the Arctic Monkeys win. Um. I guess no one heard Madonna's album then, cos like, sexiest female? Uhhhhhh like, was that a really halfarsed attempt to get her to turn up? how embarrassing. continue reading.
the finale: yes the awards formally known as the brats are still pedalling the 'godlike genius' trophy, which might be relevant if your idea of god resembles a vacant-eyed, northern primate that wouldn't sound like it could sing if someone added an echo equivalent of the turnbine room at the tate modern to the noise emitted from its mouthhole. words cannot express the excruciatingness of that man. mine certainly can't. and how can the ipc marketing team think it's a good idea to put conor 'conman' mcnicholas on the small screen?? give me mariah carey any day.
what was i going to say? oh yeah - madonna: sexiest female. ian brown: godlike genius.
tokengirl has left the building.