DAMNING THE BALLYHOO ON ......THEO WALCOTT

If I was to ask you to name the best thing about Theo Walcott the chances are that you would probably say that it's his fit girlfriend. Now, I am not sure of her name exactly but I know that she is hot stuff, and no doubt that you have all had that argument as to whether she is legal or not..but that's another story.

Anyway, back to the point in hand which is that Theo Walcott is possibly one of the most hyped players around in the Premiership at the moment. Now, I am going to cut the lad some slack, as he is only around 20 years old, but I don't think I am the only person who is beginning to wonder if he really is going to live up to the £12m price tag which Arsenal splashed out on him a few years ago.

Walcott has been dubbed the "new Henry" in some quarters, which is quite frankly ludicrous. I think the tag came after he scored a typcial Henry sidefoot finish, which the Frenchman executed on many an occasion. To even begin comparing him with the great man is utterly hilarious and hasn't been helped after the little winger bagged a hat trick for England against Croatia a few months back.

Walcott could be described as a poor man's Aaron Lennon, which is no exaggeration at the moment. I honestly don't think I can say that I have ever seen Walcott finish a game he has started and that is not a wind up. After Lennon handed out a lesson to Evra a few weeks ago, everyone thought that Walcott would do even more damage in the Champs League Semi, especially as a booking for Evra would mean him missing the final. Result? Evra having Walcott in his pocket for the whole game and leading Walcott to be substituted (again).

Theo is decent player, don't get me wrong but it seems to me his best position is substitute. His best performances have come against teams on their last legs, or with 10 men, perfect for him to exploit. But can that really justify spending £12m on a player just for 15 minutes a game? That's like paying a porn star just to finish off and letting some other mug do the legwork before him.

As a starter, Walcott's decision making is worse than George W Bush and delivery is poorer than Royal Mail when they are on strike. He was bought with the idea of being a striker but I don't think he has ever actually played in that position, not even in League Cup games. It doesn't look like he has the stature or temparement to become a front man, which might be down to the fact he has yet to reach puberty , perhaps the explanation for those sideburns he likes to draw on his face.

Anyway Theo keep your chin up and be smug at the fact that half the nation have probably spanked their monkey over your missus (her name is Melanie Slade I can now confirm thanks to Google- and she is 18...high five!). But is he fit to lace Mr Va Va Voom's boots? I don't think so

DAMNING THE BALLYHOO ON .....WEST END CLUBS

So after an extremely stressful week's work, mainly involving strenuous mouse movements, scrolling through hundreds and thousands of interesting websites (can be very exhausting), you decide its time to let your hair down. So you round up your best buddies, and decide to venture towards the bright lights of London's West End, in search of some sort of nirvana of clubbing, which frankly does not exist in our "wonderful" city called London.

You and your crew walk towards the latest hottest club, getting less and less confident with every step. You hatch an elaborate plan to bypass the obnoxious and ridiculous door policy, like some intricate military coup or something out of the last ten minutes of the A-team. You know the lack of females in your group will scupper your plans of getting through that impenetrable barrier, two females, a poncy arrogant looking man usually dressed in skinny jeans and some sort of hat or funky hairstyle, flanked by three quarterbacks who are about as gormless as Rocky after several punches to the head from Ivan Drago. You try splitting up, going in groups of two, bribing the door staff, befriending some random girls in queue, literally anything just to get yourself into this so called paradise.

You get to the door, the sweat dripping off your face. Will the random girls you have mingled and befriended, vouch for you? Predictably they don't, the guestlist girl says "Are you guys all together?" The girls shake their heads, deny you three times like Judas, leaving you stranded at the mercy of the unforgiving door staff. You finally muster up the courage to speak, the girl asks "what list are you on? You tell her, she conveniently says that list doesn't exist, even though you can see it on her clip board. She is literally inventing as many excuses as possible to turn you away. You cant wear trainers, no jeans, no tops with no buttons, no brown shoes, no rings, no jumpers, no bla......, no blue jeans, no Cool Water aftershave, no black hair, no brown eyes, no yellow shirts, no........, the list is endless. You watch enviously as a group of ten guys saunter in, wearing all the things that are apparently banned from the so called club, you wonder why, then you realise it's your favourite football players.

Our oh so friendly door man whispers in the ear of the girl who is delaying your entrance. Beware, the bouncers are no longer the biggest obstacle, its the diminutive doorman or woman who claims to be the club manager, who usually has sort of physical ailment (usually being vertically challenged) which gives them more attitude than the So Solid Crew on speed. He tells you a tale of how it's their busiest night of the year (yawn), and they couldn't possibly let a group of five guys in without any girls, they say you can come in if you buy a table, yes it's true, paying extortionate amounts of money on a table, suddenly makes the club alot less busy and packed and easier to get into, very strange. You think, "RESULT!!!". Its the busiest night of the year, who wouldn't pay 500 quid to party with their favourite football players, a 1000 Megan Fox lookalikes and creme de la creme of London.

You promptly agree, you walk in and guess what? The club isn't as packed as they made out, the girls are not as fit as you thought and your table is not exactly in a prime real estate location. They bring your drinks over with a fanfare of sparklers and the over the top superman theme tune music, you literally feel like a God for a second. Suddenly there are girls begging to crowd around your table, they are like vultures around the last piece of meat in the desert and it's definitely feeding time. You feel like Hugh Hefner for a second but 30 minutes later, all the alcohol is suddenly gone and so are the ladies, you feel used, you peruse the club looking for ladies, drunk out of your mind and now all your friends are suddenly nowhere to be found. You see your princess, she is literally your perfect woman, after ten minutes of exuding your incredible charm, (i.e plying her with vodka tonics at an astonishing ten pound a pop) you exchange numbers and the rest is history.

We all know how this story ends, you wake up the next day 500 quid lighter and with little recollection of what happened, a terrible hangover and that girl you fell in love with, looks nothing like what you first thought, in fact she is suddenly five stones heavier and her Megan Fox appearance has suddenly become Jo Brand. The worst part of it all, is that at the same time and same place the next week, you will do it all over again. It's not fun at all, it's just vastly overpriced and overrated, I thought partying was supposed to be fun and hassle free?

DAMNING THE BALLYHOO ON .....UGG BOOTS

A few months ago, I was checking out the new Westfield Shopping Centre. I admit that I got lost on quite a few occasions, a combination of both my own incompetence and the brain dead customer services staff. Anyway, having finally figured out a way to navigate my way round the retail minefield, I found myself encountered with a pretty unusual sight. As I looked into the distance I could see a large and winding queue, reminiscent of the days when a new ride would open at Alton Towers.

Now, I am not a massive shopaholic, but I am aware that the time most places would have such a queue is before the doors have opened on say Boxing Day at 6am (or if there is a super sale at Richer Sounds). But I looked at my watch and it was roughly 3pm and it was around October time, so that explanation did not hold true. I know what it is I thought, "it must be some sort of book signing in Waterstones", perhaps it's Michael Palin or such like.

So, I have to say I was pretty shocked when I saw that people were actually queuing for UGG boots, the new apparently essential footwear for winter. Now, first things first, let's get to the queue situation. I had a look in the store (from the outside of course) and the first thing I noticed was that you could pretty much drive a jumbo jet around in there so I have no comprehensible explanation why they had organised a queue (apart from hype of course)

It's a bit like going to a club and seeing a massive queue and thinking "ohh, it must be well busy and good in there, lets queue". However, with UGG, they can't even use this as an excuse as the paying punter can clearly see that there actually is no reason to be lining up in the first place.



I was also further dismayed when I saw a number of men in the queue, and not necessarily with partners. Now, I know we are in the dawn of the "metrosexual male" ( I have often been handed that rather dubious label myself) but I would like to say that a line has to be drawn somewhere. All you guys out there, if you would rather spend £150 on some UGG boots rather than say an Ipod or even a night out a strip club then I think you are having serious issues.

UGG boots are very expensive (around £150 a pair) and to be honest I don't think they look that great on women (unless they have nothing else on) so all in all I am not sure why they have generated so much interest and hype in the public, particularly amongst celebrities


Having conducted some extensive research on the internet (ahem) I found that most people like the boots because they are really "warm". This seems a reasonable explanation I thought, but when I looked at the adverts for them, coupled with the people who actually wear these monstrosities, I have noticed that the women do not actually appear to be wearing that many other clothes in unison with the boots. So this pretty much throws the idea out the window that people are actually purhasing them to make sure they don't catch a cold. Also, as this picture shows, people tend also tend to wear them when it's not that cold at all.....

If you are going to wear boots like this in the middle of summer then who knows what kinds of germs you are breeding down there and to be honest your ridiculously overpriced boots will have a shelf life shorter than TATU (for those who can't remember that's those Russian lesbian popsters from a few years ago)

In my humble opinion this novelty footwear is UGG-ly as F-UGG and any idiot who decides to queue for an hour just to buy a pair can quite frankly F-UGG off....

DAMNING THE BALLYHOO ON .....SWINE FLU

Achoo! Watch out people, you may somehow catch my germs through your computer and be paralyzed by Swine Flu at any time soon if the hype in the media is too be believed.

Never since the Spice Girls reformed for a reunion tour has there been such media hype over such a minor issue.

I actually went to Mexico a few weeks ago and when I returned my Dad was like "Wow, have you heard about all this Swine Flu stuff? It's all kicking off apparently, you better be careful". That's strange, I thought, nothing seemed to be going on when I was there (although my mind didn't slightly wander to when I pulled a pig one night and its possible repercussions).

The papers screamed "global pandemic..the New Black Death..one in three people will have it by the end of the year". One in three? The same amount of people have cancer for crying out loud, and that really IS deadly.

So what can we expect when we all succumb to the all engulfing Swine Flu? Well, apparently you may have the flu for three days and then recover. Hold on, so I get three days sick off work and I will completely recover. Oh my God, this is the biggest disaster this century! Forget HIV and those thousands starving in Africa, if I get swine flu I will be getting paid not to go to work! How will I possibly cope with this!

We have been getting leaflets through the post from the NHS on how to stop germs spreading. Use a tissue apparently. Oh right, thats interesting because when I normally sneeze I just do it on my hand, and then go up to the nearest person I can find and smear my hand all over their face, all with a smile of course. Other advice includes "Do not go to Mexico and mix with large groups of Mexican people". Honestly, who on earth is getting paid to write such ridiculous articles in the paper?

The other day on the news they had a hilarious news item where they were filming a journey of a swine flu vaccine from one part of the country to another. Absolutely ludicrous. Who cares about whats going on in Zimbabwe when we can follow this excitement 24/7 instead?

If we were to believe what we read in the paper, the body count in the UK could be reaching Rambo style proportions very soon. A quick look at the death count in the UK so far reads a massive....ZERO. So in a few months, if the media is to be believed, we can all look forward to the whole country going into meltdown with the devastation of the Black Plague being brought back into the 21st Century

Pigs might fly................

DAMNING THE BALLYHOO ON......SUSAN BOYLE

Susan Boyle or "SUBO" has literally become a global phenomenon, famed for having the face of an ogre but the voice of an angel(yawn). Her first performance on BGT touched the hearts of many, over 100 million people including the likes of Demi Moore and Ashton Kuscher. It's a story that literally makes my skin crawl and my blood boil. It's situations like this where Damning The Ballyhoo is probably the first line of defence against the ridiculous and uncontrollable runaway train that is "HYPE".

To be honest if Shrek said he had a great voice, I'd probably bet against it, so I can see why the public were so shocked by it, because I think Shrek is probably better looking than she is. It saddens me that a person's talent is suddenly amplified 100 fold simply because they don't look the way you expect them to look, throw in the fact that the incredibly intelligent British public simply love to add fuel to the reality show fire, and you have an extraordinary recipe for disaster. A runaway monolith of ridiculousness bound to end in a fiery death(maybe I'm exaggerating, but you get the idea). If you watch her first performance and you couple in Amanda Holden's ridiculous forced facial expressions like a 1970s german porn star, Piers Morgans pure arrogance and patronising nature, Simon Cowell's let me say its very good so I can make loads of money and those 2 morons Ant and Dec and have you have possibly the greatest concoction of overblown hype since the Spice Girls reformed.

Lily Allen says she is overrated, so when you have the queen of the overrated, calling you overrated, you know something is up. Her hype become so overblown that she was invited to sing for Obama, sing on Oprah and all around the world, even before she had even won the talent contest she was competing in, had anyone opened their eyes to realise that were other acts in the show?

Ms Doubtfire Looks + Overweight + Common + A decent voice = Superstardom

Now our beloved Subo has been sent to the Priory because of exhaustion and stress after being defeated by the supremely impressive Diversity in the BGT final. Do I feel sorry for her? Yes I do, because we all know her voice was no shock, ITV were fully aware of her talent and her mental problems, and fully exploited her.

The sad thing is, there is a path that unwarranted superstardom takes you, which ultimately ends in tears. SUBO's rise to fame seems to mirror many other over hyped, less than deserving, fame seeking wannabes, including our own Jade Goody(R.I.P), except her exceptional talent involved being incredibly annoying.

Steps on to stage to perform, everyone laughs and mocks our dear SUBO = Goody’s time in the house, she was a complete laughing stock.

She sings everyone loves her, cue hoopla, gift from god, national treasure, etc...... = Jade leaves the house and becomes a celeb fave, for some odd reason.

She tours the world = Jade’s TV shows, perfume etc

She comes back and the backlash starts, she’s moody, people begin to realise its all a bit unnecessary. = Jade’s racist episode in BB House.

She sings again in the final = Jade’s sob story headlines in HEAT about racist incident

She loses, great story suddenly turns very sour. = Jade gets cancer

She goes to the priory, people start to feel sorry for her again, has her chance to escape her own

hype = Jade receives redemption through cancer.

As awful as it sounds, the English public loves a pathetic working class loser turned good, and ITV were fully aware of this. Why else would they throw a knowingly mentally disabled woman with a decent voice into the spotlight knowing full well she wouldn't be able to cope when the world focused in.

Here is the performance that made her and broke her all at the same time.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9lp0IWv8QZY

DAMNING THE BALLYHOO ON....BRITAIN'S GOT TALENT

So another season of Britain's Got Talent has drawn to a close with a bit of a sting in the tail. I daresay that I am not the only poor sucker who lost a wedge of cash betting on that Ann Widdecombe lookalike to win by a landslide. Anyway, I will come back to her another time, my main gripe is with the show in general.

I don't watch the show that much so I may not be in the best position to judge (as it were) but I will start with the judges themselves. Simon Cowell, as much as he splits opinion, is a bit of a legend in my eyes, so he will escape my tirade. He has taken some of Britain's worst talents and made millions out of them and so for that he commands my total and utter respect. Examples include Robson and Jerome and those utter w*nkers Westlife. I have to admit it is pretty hilarious to see Simon's Cowell's eyes positively light up with pound signs everytime he sees a worthwhile talent

However, Amanda Holden? How on earth has she managed to get on that panel? Let's be honest, she is an attractive woman but what other "talent" does she really possess? All women on these panels always seem so bland and pointless, always sitting on the fence and bursting into tears at the slightest hint of someone battling against the odds or being able to sing more than one note in tune. Please, pass me the sick bucket. The only thing Amanda Holden is really famous for is for being the source of one of the most debated pub questions of all time...how did Les Dennis manage to be on top of that for the best part of 10 years? Perhaps we should ask those people who take part in those Family Fortunes surveys. In this case, I think the most common response would be "Our survey said....MONEY!". Let's get Amanda off and please have someone more credible.

Then we have Piers Morgan, a guy who monumentally cocked up being Editor of the Mirror in pretty comical and spectacular fashion (http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk_politics/3716151.stm) only to then land some stupid TV show where he interviewed people who also cocked up their careers and also landed on their feet (I still to this day am not sure if the irony was actually deliberate). How can this guy be in a position to judge any sort of talent and have the cheek to slag anyone off? What a joke.

The other thing that annoys me with the show is the repetitive, boring hype we hear every week:

"They better step up their game or else they are on their way out" accompanied by stupid close ups and a crescendo of Mozart (or something like that). Once every now and then is ok, but it gets pretty boring when you see it every week, lets be honest here. The format is more tiresome than watching two bald men fight over a comb.


Then we have pointless Geordies Ant 'n' Dec (where does 'n' reside I wonder?) who possibly look as they could mould into eachother at any time forming one super Geordie. Are these guys seriously not that bothered that they wear the same clothes as each other every week? I am personally horrified if I walk into a nightclub and find that someone is wearing the same item of clothing, let alone the whole caboodle. And these guys probably get dressed right next to each other! What a pair of idiots. Go back to Byker Grove please lads and give Jeff and Spuggie a helping hand

Let's be honest guys, if this show really is the best of British, then I think we really are all in trouble

DAMNING THE BALLYHOO ON......DAMIEN HIRST

This man really is a genius, he has swindled the art aficionados out of literally millions and millions of pounds by simply tarting up dead animals and calling it "art", Unbelievable. How much would you pay for a mouse in a glass, preserved in formaldehyde? Probably nothing. But if I gave it a wishy washy up it's own arse name like "the lost soul of the dying breed", would it suddenly become worth millions and millions? That's exactly what Mr Hirst has done, which has made him the richest artist in the world.

To add even more to his genius, he isn't even responsible for a lot of the work he actually does, he is the creative direction behind a machine that probably involves quite a few budding artists wishing to prove their worth. He has a team of minions who do his dirty work and create those wonderful and "inspiring" moments of "genius". But picture this, if I asked another man to sleep with my girlfriend and directed him around her private parts, if he made her orgasm, who would be the true genius, him or me?

In his own words.

Hirst said that he only painted five spot paintings himself because, "I couldn't be fucking arsed doing it"; he described his efforts as "sh*te"—"They're sh*t compared to ... the best person who ever painted spots for me was Rachel. She's brilliant. Absolutely f*cking brilliant. The best spot painting you can have by me is one painted by Rachel." He also describes another painting assistant who was leaving and asked for one of the paintings. Hirst told her to, "'make one of your own.' And she said, 'No, I want one of yours.' But the only difference, between one painted by her and one of mine, is the money.'"^[16] By February 1999, two assistants had painted 300 spot paintings.^[36]

Wow, a bunch of colourful dots on a canvas, how incredibly creative and each one is probably worth in the region of 200,000 pounds.

"Hirst sees the real creative act as being the conception, not the execution, and that, as the progenitor of the idea, he is therefore the artist"

I guess there is an argument to be had that he probably provides alot of the inspiration and creative direction, but the man has a team of 100 artists doing his work and I don't think it's very creative or groundbreaking at all. I'm not claiming to be an expert in the art world, but i cannot see the justification for selling a preserved animal for millions and millions of pounds, or maybe I'm being unreasonable and close minded. Think about the 1000s of incredibly talented young artists with a lot more creativity, who are constantly overlooked and probably have to apply for a job under Mr Hirst, thus maintaining the machine which had ultimately stifled their talent in the first place. To be fair, if Icould sell dead animals, random dots and splashes of paint to the gullible for millions and millions, then I probably would.