Sunday, 28 December 2008

Dear Broadsheets, Po-Faced Social Commentators, Chris Martin

The beard-stroking neo-credibilisation of Girls Aloud stops here.

The pseudo-intellectual practice of treating these perma-preening nymphs as something to be pondered over, dissected and appraised like the work of the Lord - a phenomenon that seems to be generating more hot air with each passing day - must end now. They're a manufactured girl band, plain and simple. Very well put-together, very well-marketed. Good tunes (which they didn't write), cutting-edge production (which they didn't do), canny videos (which they didn't direct). Let us please not lose sight of the fact that the bodacious bimbos came from the X-Factor of its day, and as such have been focus-grouped and market-tested just like any other product. They are pieces of meat in a butcher's shop window. They are moisturiser applied by Kate Moss to a soundtrack of the latest indie hits. They are soap. They're good at what they do, but in the grand scheme of things, "what they do" is actually a fairly minimal piece of the puzzle.

Throwaway fluff that's quite fun when you're twatted? Yes. Something to buy seriously, listen to as a matter of course and proclaim the apex of humanity's achievements to date? Tut, tut. Just what the world needs - another thing for a generation of young women to define their lifestyle and personality by. SASSY!!!

(Mind you, better them and the Ting Tings in the charts than S Club-fucking-7. It wasn't even acceptable at the time - even less so when you're over 30 and still requesting them in nightclubs).

Curmudgeonly regards,

PS - I do quite like the way the dirty-looking one goes "Oooh" in every song, mind.