We can’t get enough of this up here at the moment. Really.

There’s also a wicked cover version which may well end up being at the top of the charts..

You’ve obviously never seen the inside of gym in your life. The “trackie bottoms” tucked in to your socks. Why? WHY? And you know what? Wearing a baseball cap and hoodie makes you look like a duck.

• Chavs use personal drama to impress others.

“Yeah, well from the age of one I was beaten, shot, stabbed and made to eat sawdust..”. Wow. No way. I’m just going to stand over here now..

• Chavs play tinny R&B on cellphones.

Get some taste, and some headphones. Really.

• Chavs use “connections” to impress others.

“Do you know the Smiths..? What about the Jones..? Wicked.”

 There are no chavs here in the Mead Hall. They have their own afterlife, which is basically a huge McDonalds in the sky. They stand outside it and pose whilst smoking cigarettes and pretending to fight. They might go inside and huddle around a coffee for a few hours if it’s especially cold.

http://www.chavworld.co.uk/

With me so far? Good.

Well, this is a dating show. You see, what happens is that several brave warriors – who also have names seemingly picked at random from a newspaper - try their hand at winning New York, a woman with a bizarrely over-inflated sense of her own attractiveness. She likes some more than others. Then she changes her mind. But eventually one of them gets to take her out. Or something. 

 Ok, well I have couple of  problems with this, namely;-

1) No-one knows what New York looks like without her make-up, wig and push up bra.

New York - somewhere underneath all this lot

I mean, come on. There might be something horrible going on under there. I’m not fighting for a wench just because everyone else is. New York, I suspect that your beauty is as genuine as your name.

2) The whole premise of this show – and perhaps New York’s fame – rests on her eligibility.

So you’re really gonna choose someone to settle down with, New York? You’ll go and bake cakes and raise children in the ‘burbs and leave this whole dating tv thing to someone else? Yeah, right.

3) This all happens under the watchful eye of her Mother.

Yes, her MOTHER. As any spear-thane knows, this is not conducive to romance and reduces the chances of swifan to absolutely none, zero, zilch, nada, nothing. Wōden help us, just the thought of it makes my mead curdle.

Anyway, do watch it. It’s insanely good, even if you have no idea why these proud warriors are even bothering given the plentiful supply of unenhanced, unaccompanied and genuinely available women out there.

http://www.vh1.com/shows/i_love_new_york/season_1/series.jhtml

Only the fullness of time will prove the musical genius that is Boostalk, and with this video he has left mankind a monument to the eternal glory of hip hop.

Or something.

Seriously.. feel free to add to the list! Here’s Ian Dury and the Blockheads.

You know how those ‘Tribal Maori’ sleeves and ‘Barbed Wire’ armband tattoos of the 90′s seem a bit passé now?.. 

Well, about those star tattoos on your wrists..

Ready? Good.

• I/he/she/you/they have been on an ‘incredible journey’
• I really ‘want/need’ this
• ‘..PLEASE’, directed at ‘Sympathy Judge’ (Cheryl Cole, Paula Abdul, Sharon Osbourne et cetera)
• The contestant is ‘kooky’
• The contestant is not conventionally attractive, but (gasp) can sing! Step forward Paul Potts, Susan Boyle et cetera
• The contestant is disabused of the notion that they are musically and vocally competent by the ‘Antipathy Judge’ (Simon Cowell)
• ‘You’re wrong, Simon Cowell! You haven’t heard the last of me!’ (Come on, we don’t even hear about the people who win a year after the show finishes!)
• It’s a split decisison (or too early in the series to boot out the mediocre..) give the deciding vote to the ‘Sympathy Judge!’
• Contestant cries 
• I’m doing this for my Grandad / teacher / cat et cetera..
• ‘I just wanna make a better life for my kids’ (another way of saying this is ‘I want more money’)
• Sympathy Judge cries
• Simon Cowell looks offended by less than competent singing (cue rolling eyes!)
• Audience cries
• The contestant has personal tragedy..
•  ..but is ‘stronger’
• ‘Everyman Judge’ (Randy Jackson) makes blithe and less than insightful commentary about the contestant’s abilities, capped by the address ‘Dawg’
• ‘Antipathy Judge’ and ‘Sympathy Judge’ fall out! (bonus points for dreary retread in the tabloids)
• Simon Cowell cries (game over - EVERYONE wins!)
• Gratutious hyperbole: ‘greatest night of my life’, ‘most amazing thing I’ve ever seen’ et cetera
• Gratutitous ownage: ‘you made that song your own’, ‘you owned that song’, ‘the night was yours’ et cetera
• Gratuitous disbelief: ‘I can’t believe I’m here’, ‘that was literally unbelievable’, et cetera
• Gratutitous discussion of ‘potential’: ‘Tonight you looked like a star’, ‘you have the potential to be world class’.. ( yeah, right - see you in panto next year..)

In fact, screw it. Just get drunk and watch the the musically delusioned slog it out for the first few weeks and lose interest when the whole thing progresses to the blue-studio-clapalong phase..