Orange Unsigned Act 2008

I’ve refrained for several weeks from writing about T4’s Orange Unsigned Act. If you haven’t seen it, it’s basically the X Factor for “people with talent” except, of course, anyone who is truly talented would steer clear of it. The judges of the show are: Lauren Laverne, who has no taste; Simon Gavin, a thinner Johnny Vegas and head of record label A&M; and Alex James, a complete wank.

I’m not sure why this programme has tried to present itself as the antithesis to the X Factor; if that were true, then surely the acts would have some freedom of expression. Every week at least one of the bands- who got through by the skin of their teeth the previous week- modifies their music so that it is more to the taste of whatever judge dislikes them the most, in a bid to win them over. So far, I’ve only heard one act who I thought was all right: a rapper named Pirelli, who was booted off because Alex James doesn’t like rap music. So, I’m sorry British public- Alex James can’t look at music objectively and would rather inflict yet another middle-of-the-road indie band on you than someone who has some semblance of originality, because indie music is all he knows and likes. He even had a dig at Toby Sebastian, the programme’s youngest contestant, for singing a song which was “so far removed from anything I’ve ever known that I can’t enjoy it.” Toby Sebastian, by the way, is not a purveyor of other-worldly weird music. He sounds, if anything, like a young Jack Johnson. Alex James has been living on a farm for so long that his music taste starts and stops at 1995.

As with most bad programmes, it is incredulity that keeps me watching. The word “originality” is constantly bandied about, and heaped upon certain acts who are anything but original- people who have ripped off another singer’s style entirely and have the indecency to parade this theft on television (and those who watch Unsigned Act will know exactly who and what I’m talking about.)

Simon Gavin, the guy who will be signing whoever wins, was responsible for signing Duffy last year. You know, she of the whiny, caterwauling, MOST HORRIBLE VOICE I’VE EVER HEARD. So really, the winner of this competition should feel utterly ashamed that the person who thinks that they are good also enjoys Duffy’s music. If that is good music, I don’t know what bad music sounds like. Ironically, there is more pride to be garnered from winning the X Factor, where at least you can take comfort in the knowledge that you’re in the same legion as the wonderful Girls Aloud.

A fun game to play

I always enjoy playing a good word/name game, particularly if they involve puns. My latest favourite game isn’t a pun game, though. It came about when I was thinking about peculiar baby names. Earlier this year, a few newspapers ran some “fun” articles about ridiculous names which some people had actually given their kids- my favourite, by far, was Violence. Anyway, I was wondering if there were any children of obsessive celebrity fans with names like Michael Jackson Jones, or Elton John Henderson. In Scotland, I think the only people who would give their children such names would be those who hold rappers (or DJs I suppose, but that can be another game) in highest reverence.

So this is the game: think of a rapper, then give them a typically Scottish surname. Or Irish, that works too. I keep calling it a game, but I suppose it is more of a mind occupier.

Some examples:

Snoop Dogg Sneddon
Eminem Semple
Kanye West McCafferty
Akon McFadyen
50 Cent Patterson
Coolio McKenzie
Tupac McKenna
Ludacris Mullen

Join in & post your own Scottish surnamed rappers (Scrappers?)

Legends vs "Legends"

King Arthur
A British leader who fought against the Anglo-Saxons in the 6th century. Or did he? His existence is contested by historians, and it is this which makes him a legend.


John Smeaton
An idiot, who really does exist.

Hole pounder

It used to be the case that social networking sites were predominantly littered with angsty, heavily eyelinered emo kids with their tattooed breasts out, and balding middle aged virgins with their cute wee semis tucked inside their yellowing pants. Most of these people were able to spell and construct a coherent sentence, but would sometimes self-consciously dabble in a bit of internet-speak. It would rarely get much worse than "Wot u up 2?"

However, the internet gradually became more affordable, and then Bebo was invented. Bebo was the Duplo to Myspace's Lego, and it thus invited a simpler breed of mind to latch onto the phenomenon of social networking.

Sometimes I will look at neds' Bebo pages just to see what they are chatting about, and to see how much more deplorable internet-speak (and general chat) has become.

Here is one example:

"AM ENGEGED
HiiD TAE TELL YoO
LOL
WiiT YoO BEEN DAiiN WAE YoORSELF...???
DoODLE BK
HiiV SUM LVE "

It's like reading dialogue in an Irvine Welsh novel. This person knows that "had", "to", and "doing", are the real words, but she wants everyone to know that this is how she talks in real life. I also don't doubt that she is aware of how to spell "you". Another thing I noticed is that some people say "lit" instead of "like":

"a no a wis lit tht"

And they write "cuttle" instead of "couple". I don't know if all of this is as interesting to you as it is to me, but I almost piss myself with incomprehension when I think of someone making the concerted effort to type "cuttle" instead of "couple".

It's not only their pronounciation spelling which makes for a good read; their patter in general is hilarious. I'm only going to post one of the things I read on a comments page, because it deserves to stand alone.

"awrite gawjuss...a wid pound the hole right aff u"

Surely if you pound a hole it's only going to get bigger?

My xbox means a lot to me..

The new xbox 360 adverts truly baffle me. I thought adverts were supposed to tell me that by purchasing their products, an enviable lifestyle consisting of sex appeal, sunbathing and a nicely furnished home would quickly ensue.



Watching that advert makes me feel like if I ever pick up an xbox 360 controller, I will morph slowly into Stephen Hawking.

Well done, you're a knob. Have a prize!

I was reading up about the winner and runners up of this year’s Turner Prize the other day, and was suitably under whelmed by the concepts being put forward as contemporary art. A guy called Mark Leckey won it, for a film he’s made which features clips from telly he likes (Felix the Cat and Titanic apparently), while he tells the viewer, in rhyming couplets, why he likes those clips. I am now going to directly quote from the Independent:

“Leckey was short listed alongside Runa Islam, whose video shows women smashing crockery; Cathy Wilkes, whose sculpture features a mannequin on a lavatory; and Goshka Macuga’s installations, comprised of “found” objects.”

Naturally, I was bowled over by the originality of these ideas. Something feminist, something which depicts the everyday life of a human, and something which is so textbook pretentious art wank that it makes me want to eat a plate full of bawbags.

Maybe the installations become profound and interesting when you see them in real life, but maybe I just said that to offer a counter-opinion to show that I’m trying to give you a more balanced view of the Turner Prize finalists.

I have come to the conclusion that it is easy to win the Turner Prize. In fact, I came up with my own idea for an entry in the space of 2 minutes while sitting in a busy café next to a bunch of English screen writers who kept shouting their opinions of recently viewed short films at each other (“YEAH? YEAH WHAT WOULD YOU GIVE THAT FILM OUT OF 5? YEAH BUT WHAT DO YOU THINK THE TURNING POINT IS? OH MY GOD IT REMINDED ME OF THAT SHITE DEMI MOORE FILM FROM 1995 WHAT WAS IT CALLED? I’M A PRICK? YEAH!)

My entry has nothing to do with those screen writers, I just wanted to give you an idea of the kind of distractions that were going on around me when I was trying to get into my pretentious brain storming “zone”. So my idea is this: My part of the art gallery would be set up like a kitchen, just one of Ikea’s example kitchens or something. There is a midget in the kitchen, and he hasn’t got a stool or anything, so he cant reach the sink or the hobs. All day, while the gallery is open, the midget just walks about the kitchen trying and failing to do any kitchen related activities. I call it “FutiliTEA? Sorry, I can‘t make it.”