The Shit Awards

First appeared in Platform magazine.

Do not tune in to ITV1 and you will not be gratified by dancing ladies, brother. You will not see bronze statuettes, silver envelopes and golden tickets. You will not experience the crème de la crème of the entertainments industry on one red carpet. You will not be disappointed with your lot in this world because you will not kiss the feet of the monster. The revolution will not be televised.

But the BRIT Awards will be televised. This glittered bowel movement will also be ubiquitous over the web, radio and newspapers too. This is the moment each year where people stand by and watch as their culture is paraded in front of Nazis with a broom handle up its ass and underpants on its head.

This is the time of year Platform magazine gives column space to the cultural equivalent of fly spray not tested on animals. This is the ultimate in non-award giving. This is an awards ceremony for people whom we already know to be famous and commercially successful, nothing more. This is the moment the entertainment industry justifies its pollution of the airwaves. This is a gala for the most leaky and dangerous oil tankers in the ocean beamed directly to an audience of dolphins and whales. This is an evening of back-slapping so hard that JLS will need corrective spinal procedures if they don’t choke on their champagne first. This is Las Vegas’ little brother coming to town and leaving a stain on your sofa.

This is Valium for the masses, so easy watching you can just zone out and forget your troubles, brother. This is a main event in the calendar of non-important things which get everyone’s attention. This is where, several years ago, Liam Gallagher challenged Robbie Williams to a fight and the whole country went nuts. This is where Robbie Williams gets a gong just for being Robbie Williams.

This is the event where some newspapers substitute the word ‘award’ for ‘gong’ in their coverage of it.

This is the main event, bringing millions of viewers the winners, the glamour and the stunning performances that have made The BRIT Awards the ultimate must see televised event in British music for the last 30 years.

This is a ceremony I’ll probably, if I’m honest, end up masturbating to with one hand while slitting my throat with the other. This is, after all, where you’ll see Lily Allen, Pixie Lott, Ellie Goulding, Leona Lewis and Cheryl Cole all under one roof, you know.

This is an event sponsored by MasterCard, a company which benefits from keeping the population stupid.

This is the awards show where I first heard the words ‘Aphex Twin,’ uttered by a smirking Frank Skinner as he announced ‘And the winner is… Robbie Williams.’