Dear Musicians, Writers, Filmmakers Based in New York

Do you think you can give it a rest and stop wanking on about how amazing New York is for a while? I live in Britain and it's absolutely fucking shit.


All the best,
Davis.

PS - No, really, it can't be that good if someone decided it needed remodeling with a couple of planes.

Dear Simon Cowell (II)

I'm all for a good cause, and so I'm just about willing to forgive your co-option of Everybody Hurts for the Haiti charity single.

However, listen to me very carefully. So help me God, if you let N-Dubz anywhere near that song, I will make it solemn vow to cut off your "na-na-nads", liquify them in a blender and force you to quaff it down like a frothing jizz milkshake.

Nothing personal, you understand. But when you pollute the world's finest music with the stench of its most artless bottom-feeders, there must be consequences.

Regards,
Davis.

Dear Owl City

Is this some kind of a FUCKING JOKE?


Genuinely affronted regards,
Davis.

Dear Wiley ("feat" Chew Fu)

Regarding your latest effort, a solid contender for the most aggressively obnoxious-sounding record of the century thus far.


Quite aside from being a fairly transparent cry of "I want one of those!!!" after hearing Dizzee Rascal's Bonkers (not, for the record, something anyone with good sense or competent hearing would consider particularly worth coveting), I have to say that I've found myself rather perplexed by the track's lyrical content. Your justification for having "the formula" that'll "rain on all o' ya" is, as far as I'm able to discern, as follows:

"Went number one, with Number 1, yeah that's my brother;
I was in the chart with Avenue and Shake a Leg, Roll Deep;
Phoned the Chew Fu, Chew Fu phoned right back;
Anybody who thinks I can't do it anymore, better step right back and take that!"

Now, after a fleeting consideration of these hard-hitting boasts, what you actually appear to be saying is this:

"You know that Tinchy bloke who had a number one last year? He's a mate of mine".
TAKE THAT!

"A few years back, I had a couple of minor hits with a now-forgotten grime collective".
TAKE THAT!

"The producer of this record has an answering machine".
TAKE THAT!

Now, I'm no expert on self-aggrandisement, but I'm pretty sure these are fairly lackadaisical claims at best for having "the formula".

"Wot d'you call it"...? Absolute shit, mate.

...TAKE THAT!

Tool.

Regards,
Davis.

PS - Next time you decide to claim that you're "ballin', but don't rub it in your face", you might want to consider not then repeating the words "take that" in excess of 30 times.

PPS - Your proclamation that you were "in a Bedford night-club" does, however, trump the time I was in a Cheshire ice-rink.

Dear Radio 5 Live

This shit - I'm talking about THIS SHIT RIGHT HERE - was honestly worth the entire year's license fee alone.


However, I do have to ask a serious question about your editorial logic. Since when has this band ever voluntarily censored themselves when it didn't involve strapping gaffer tape to their gobs and whipping their cocks out onstage? The clue is sort of in the lyrics, douchebags...

I honestly can't decide what I enjoyed more: the sound of Zack DLR dropping a cheeky "Merry Christmas" before proceeding to shout and scream for five minutes, or the thought of some stuffy BBC producer politely asking them not to swear and them replying "Yeah, sure, no problem" before quietly snorting to each other: "As IF..."

Dearest Rage: I cannot tell you the amount of love, respect and adoration I hold in my heart for you. With the exception of the dodgier tracks on Renegades (and Kick out the Jams really was absolute bollocks any way you slice it), I cannot think of a single thing in your entire career that I didn't wholeheartedly approve of. Please make a new album. PLEASE tour again.

Still fucking shit up, 17 years on? Now THAT's subversion.

Keep on raging, motherfuckers. UH!!!

Regards,
Davis.

Dear Simon Cowell

I enjoyed your branding of the highly commendable campaign to get Rage Against the Machine to Number 1 for Christmas as "cynical" and "stupid". You were, presumably, thinking of your own crass, synthetic circus freakshow while conjuring these magical words from the air.

With regard to your assertion that it's "quite a cynical campaign geared at me which is actually going to spoil the party for these three", it's perhaps worth noting that nobody has the automatic right to a Number 1 single.


And as for this... "I also think it's incredibly dismissive of the people who watch and enjoy the show where they treat our audience as if they're stupid" - no, indeed. You would presumably much rather have the monopoly on that particular pleasure yourself.

I hope De La Rocha and co trounce the shit out of your latest manufactured fly-by-night in this year's Xmas chart. Not just for offering a triumph of inspired democratic protest over blithe, unquestioning consumption, but also for the possibly that they might then show up on Top of the Pops to scream "Fuck you, I won't crawl down your chimney".

Regards,
Davis.

PS - They really are stupid, you know. Oh, what am I saying? Of course you know. Your empire absolutely depends on it.

Dear Christians

I've recently been made aware of a fascinating concept known as the 'CHRISTIAN SIDE HUG'. Supposedly this is a recent innovation designed to combat the kind of awkward, unchaste groin bumpage which can potentially occur during the traditional frontal hug much beloved by the rest of humanity with, y'know, a brain and that.

With this in mind, I sincerely look forward to the day when I can have the following exchange with an unsuspecting Christian lady:

SHE: "Erm, is that a statue of Jesus in your pocket?"
HE: "No, you've given me a raging stiffy, you sexy God-botherer".

Regards,
Davis.