The Shits 2012 is exactly that - Shit. Coldplay opened the show with a portion of noise which was shit. Performers should be applauded if they do something that deserves applause. However, if the adulation is simply because of notoriety, then it's a sad fucking world. Coldplay got applause for 'being Coldplay', and not because there was anything offered above the level of mediocre and boring.
Florence and the Machine took to the stage, although I prefer the name Bloke In Drag Who Shouts. What a dire noise served up in a manner that was supposed to create in us all a sense of awe and wonderment. Sorry, luv but you can't sing.
Adele won something - no real surprise there. Then we were annoyed to fuck by the preferment of an award upon Bruno Mars. What a travesty - I know where I'd throw a grenade !!!
Olly Murs, WTF? A joke of a song/performance; please stick to being a presenter, and not a lightweight performer at kids' parties whose been roped into a performance at a big event. I am now listening to Ed Shearan thinking 'all right', and then the announcer decides at the end that I ought to "stand by for performances by Rihanna, Noel Gallagher and Blur". Well all of that, together with a further Coldplay dirge planned as the finale to this inflated-shit-of-an-awards-ceremony, I have been given every reason to switch over! I don't want to hear anyone more singers thanking their record companies.
British Single 2012 - One Fucking Direction for That's What Makes It Beautiful. How sad that this mob has won a Brit Award.
International Female 2012 - Yet more exposure /overexposure / criminallyinsaneexposure for Rihanna. Tonight she didn't have "Fuck Off" written on her footwear. James Corden, you are a bore.
Cut to a VT about Ed Shearan and his album "+". I lose the will to breathe, but my body seems to manage on autopilot and I cannot seem to die, despite losing the actual will to live. Oh hell - here comes more fucking padding, with Noel Gallagher whining into a microphone. I do not know how much more of this shit I can take. Shit, shit, shit, bollocks, hype, shit. If I kicked a cuntin' cat in the bollocks, it would squeal more tunefully than the noise made by NG. Pretentious.
Plan B came on to announce the winner of Best Solo Male Artist. He sounded like a twat, and suggested that he wouldn't know how to order the letters GCSE properly, let alone be aware enough to pass one. Fortunately the winner of the Shit Award, Ed Shearan, is rather more deserving.
Jo Wally (or something similar) came on with a bloke, to give the Radio 2 award for a band to Cuntin' Coldplay. Yawn, yawn, yaw . . y . . .
Sorry, went into a coma (but still couldn't appreciate the formulaic Shit represented by Coldplay) and it is a sad truth that most bands eventually lose everything good that they once had.
So sorry, but Prisoners' Wives on BBC1 is looking a whole lot more inviting, so the Shits will be one viewer down for its second half. If we'd dispensed with the padding and bollocks, the eight or so awards could have been doled out in the first hour, and not need a second hour of my life (which they are not now getting).
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