Why Overplay Is The Greatest Musical Sin

Having listened to 'Fast Fuse' by Kasabian already today as I was watching the slightly less boring than usual tennis; I couldn't possibly listen to it again for at least another 24 hours.

It may sound like I'm the ambassador of the OCD Members' Society, but I cannot bear to listen to the same song more than once a day. It's like the thought of having two bowls of cereal a day, it's just not right.

This 'rule' of which I must obey is to avoid the greatest musical sin: overplay.

Music is like prostitutes. Good the first time, but they slowly deteriorate for whatever reason with excess use.

It's the same with films as well, watch them too often and the appeal is just lost. Like visiting the same holiday destination year after year; like eating the same meals day after day; like being an accountant. Life can easily become monotone and quite boring, look at John Prescott for proof.

If the same song is replayed often it must be popular for whatever reason. Lets take 'Sex on Fire' by Kings of Leon for example. A good song, but it was regurgitated more than a bulimic's dinner by constant overplay.

The song now has over 37 million YouTube hits. This is simply far too many and the song has now lost any musical novelty and has almost became a cliche. The band have even been quoted saying that they don't like the album 'Only by the Night' anymore, due to the constant playing of the singles. Turn on the radio and within minutes I think you could find a station playing 'Sex on Fire' or 'Use Somebody'.

This is why I'm happy that my favourite songs aren't in the charts.

My favourite tracks include 'Making Up Numbers'; 'Veiled in Grey' and 'Shake Me Down'. You may not have heard of any of them, and that's brilliant, because that means the radio probably hasn't either.

I am sort of grateful now that chart music is full of talentless rubbish that makes my ears bleed because never mind how much I hear it, it can't get any worse.

I'll go back to my prostitute analogy and represent this with a disabled hooker whose face has been burnt off with a blow torch. Never mind how much they're used, it can't really get any worse.

In comparison, I'm glad my Indie Swedish pornstar with long blond locks and double Ds isn't in the charts. That way she won't deteriorate with time and be thrown on the music scrapheap of 'heard that, incredibly repetitive, got the t-shirt'.

I feel for bands such as Kings of Leon, Arctic Monkeys and the likes, because they've been punished for making great records because they've been ruined by DJs with the musical variety of a Spandau Ballet tribute band.

In short, to keep your favourite songs your favourite: never listen to the radio and never listen to your ipod. Keep the songs in a little safe box and revisit them every few months as a treat, like a bottle of vintage Rose.

During the mean time, I've only got 21 hours and 36 minutes until the one day deadline has passed and I can listen to Kasabian again. Tic. Toc...

Why Glastonbury Should Be A Total Waste of Time

Glastonbury Festival marks the start of festival season, so grab your tents and wellies and get ready for a spot of camping.

Music festivals are undoubtedly great fun and provide on-a-budget teens with an alternative to jetting off to Ibiza and driving themselves into more debt. What's not to love?

Yet try explaining to an alien who's never heard of Glastonbury before the attractions of a music festival, and you'd sound like an idiot.

First of all: camping.

Camping, whichever way you look at it, isn't fun. If it was, we'd all live in tents and Millets would be the richest company on earth. It isn't, so it's not.

On holiday, you can enjoy the luxuries of a hotel, apartment or villa and spend time sunbathing by the pool, it's easy to teach an alien the attractions of this; yet crapping in a bucket and walking knee deep in mud with a tent to sleep in that's as comfortable as being stabbed; that sounds less luxurious to me.

And it doesn't end there, at each music festival, people come away with not only muddy wellies and a wet tent, but with the shame that in a drunken jamming session with an acoustic guitar (or even worse, a ukulele) you have singlehandedly ruined a classic. Wonderwall by Oasis is a regular victim.

People also say, 'It'll be great to meet new people.' Yet the people you meet are usually drug addicts that pray to a God called Kurt Cobain and the prophet Pete Doherty. Most of them are idiots frankly, that waste their money on crack and throw their piss filled bags into the crowd, where they invariably land on your head.

If, by any chance you meet people that you don't class as idiots, then leave immediately. You are the idiot.

The worst by far though, is the hippies.

The usually tranquil settings of the Cotwolds and Somerset are invaded by the thieving little gypos every year, and residents spend the rest of the year clearing up after the mess the greasy inbreds make; call me stereotypical but have you ever met a classy gypo? No, you haven't, because they don't exist.

"I don't want to play Glastonbury on the Sunday night in the pouring rain, which is what The Who did last year. I was watching it on the telly, and my kids were there. I'm on the phone saying 'it's awful'. The said it was really fun, but it didn't look fun to me." Mick Jagger

I reiterate my previous point of how unappealing music festivals should be, yet they're not all bad obviously hence why people spend so much money going back year after year.

The thrill of seeing your favourite band and yelling at the top of your voice is obviously an attractive one, even if you look like an idiot. This doesn't matter though because, as previously stated, you're surrounded by idiots, so nobody really cares.

Seeing the likes of Oasis, Led Zeppelin or Blur must leave the crowd speechless and in awe, like a religious experience, only real obviously.

Despite the downsides, music festivals are here to stay it would seem.

So get yourself down to Millets, purchase a ukulele and join in with the spirit, even buy a Volkswagen camper and grow dreadlocks if you really want. Just don't become a gypo, there's enough already.

Looking forward to it?

Why the Queen is to Blame For Global Warming

Recently my whole daily routine was thrown into a planet unknown. Now it's the summer, I usually get up at about midday and fail to sleep until the early hours, this may be alien thought to many people who know what the 'morning' is. Personally, I've forgotten.

Last Thursday, I got up earlier than usual, only an important event such as Geography revision yielded such respect to interrupt my lie in. Anyway, to my shock and disbelief, I found that my house had lost power totally.

This was probably due to some electrician deciding that his monotone job of staring at light bulbs and overcharging middle aged women for poking a fuse box was starting to get boring. To make his day more exciting, he'd dig a hole in the middle of my road, as a result killing all electricity flow. Joy.

This made me sympathize with the electrician, I was equally as bored as he always is because I had nothing to do.

Literally, I imagine watching a game of cricket would be more fun than staring at all these wonderful appliances I'm so used to using whenever I pleased, yet realizing that none of them work.

Yet it wasn't just entertainment that was difficult, oh no. The inconsiderate man had also tampered with routine, I had no energy to heat water to have a shower and none to make a morning brew either. This was meddling with a man's basic human rights.

I had to improvise of course. Firstly, I couldn't wash my hair in the shower because I had no hot water, and I wasn't going to turn myself into a massive block of ice by risking the sub zero shower. I wouldn't want to give the electrician the satisfaction.

So I decided to put the shampoo in my hair, then stick my head under a tap, that way only my head would be cold. Not an ideal scenario, but beggars can't be choosers, can they?

There I was, feeling all smug and satisfied that I'd hurdled another daily obstacle. Yet I was stood half naked in my bathroom with my hair dripping yet, and only then did it occur to me that my hairdryer wouldn't work. Great.

This process of one problem solved leading to another problem carried on throughout the morning, which I wasn't too happy about.

I was staring at my computer wishing it would just work, how could I go more than three hours without checking my Facebook? I hear you ask...

The whole morning got me thinking about what it must be like to live as a caveman without electricity, or in Stoke-on-Trent where it's yet to be discovered. It made me realise what a hard life these unfortunate people must have lived.

This is why I hate all this 'global warming' paranoia, and I'll explain why.

Above: Bill Oddie's Biggest Threat

Narrow minded people, such as Jeremy Clarkson and the Queen; that only think about cars and how long it is until butler brings another pot of tea, respectively, use an awful lot of energy without much of a thought for global warming.

Cars are being blamed as the greatest CO2 emitters, and as I found out, even fundamental basic jobs like making tea uses up energy and therefore fossil fuels.

Personally, I disagree with the views of people like Jeremy and Queeny who are ignorant and can't see the damage they're doing, yet I disagree with people like Bill Oddie more.

The Devil, in human form

I'm sure if David Attenbrough and that pesky electrician could have watched me struggle to towel dry my hair last Thursday due to my absence of electricity, they'd both snigger in great satisfaction at my misfortune.

Other narrow minded people, like the two aforementioned naturists, sorry naturalists; that believe that the only way to save the planet is to live like cavemen, or Stokies, are incarnations of the devil.

They think that the only sustainable way of living on earth is to abandon our great advances in technology and live lifes with no consumption of energy at all. I lived a morning in this manor and let me tell you, it isn't fun.

For instance, the only two devices of entertainment I had were my ipod and mobile phone. These were only available to me because they'd been previously charged up with electricity. I'd have been more bored than Jack Osbourne in the house of commons without those two saviors.

If Bill Oddie had his way, I'd live this way all the time; my carbon footprint would be lower than the average IQ of a Yorkshire farmer and my entertainment levels would be equal to a tree's.

My point is, we should embrace our technology. We have cars that can go 200 mph, why not use them? We have great sources of entertainment like the ipod and computer, why not use them?

If saving the planet means going back to an electricity free era where humans merely exist and don't live, it isn't my idea of fun. I'm sure my grandchildren would gladly die due to global warming if they know it means I get access to a kettle and a hairdryer.

This my friends, is why global warming should be treated as nothing more than a light hearted bit of government banter. Drive your Range Rovers and dry your hair as often as possible with a warm hearted feeling that you're really doing Bill Oddie's head in.

If you really want to make yourself useful, make a kettle that runs off solar energy, this way the Queen's reputation as the 'earth killer' can be shaken off easily.

Meanwhile, I'm typing this whilst knowing I'm paying the wages of that scummy electrician with every minute's worth of electricity I use. Time to switch suppliers I reckon.