I wake up and take the PH balance of my own urine and log it on a spreadsheet.
I then write down my dreams onto the side of a Chinese lantern in Sanskrit and release it out of my window so that my ora can re-engage with nature. I watch from my balcony as it floats over Hyde Park raining invisible orbs of my own cosmic resonance onto the city I love.

I make a goji berry Nespresso in a tagine made from Himalayan rock salt that I bought in the kasbahs of Marraskesh and spend 5 minutes imaging where I'd like to be in five years' time.
I then make a small nest in my wardrobe out of lemongrass and turmeric, inside which I practice 10 to 15 minutes of 'Ashwanzi Horse Yoga'. The darkness brings down my potassium levels and the turmeric stains the carpet.

I spend 10 minutes every morning enjoying a bit of 'Owl Time'. This involves strapping on a beak that I've carved out of mango wood and then perching on the edge of my bath, squawking and defecating. Owls are my spirit animal and sharing an owl experience with the universe on a daily basis allows me to connect with the cosmos. The process also allows me to sweat out surplus amounts of phosphorus and mitochondria. I imagine that I'm choking up owl pellets which contain the mummified faces of everyone who's been mean to me over the last few weeks.

I shower using natural products as the chemicals found in shampoo and shower gels can be toxic. Also, as tap water contains fluorides and toxic metal salts, I don't even use that. I stand naked in the shower washing myself with air and simulating a shower experience which gets my head in the game. 

I remove my I-phone and MacBook Air from a lead-lined sarcophagus that I keep under my bed to protect me from 'Electromagnetic Horseflies'.
I send an email to myself telling me how good I am at everything and sign off by inviting myself to a party which I reply to by saying I'm too busy, which actually helps the social side of my brain grow. I call it my Social Brain Gym'
I drink a mug of honey and throw it straight back up into the kitchen sink, choking as the sticky, amber, columns block my airways. Vomitting up honey is sort of like being sick in slow motion and makes you think that you're going to actually die. I find that a near death experience every morning grounds me and helps me realise how precious life can be.

Breakfast. A spoonful of coconut oil, some chaga mushroom powder - great for the immune system - a little bit of frog spawn, colostrum, arsenic and collagen. I drink dog's milk because it's low in myxotoxins and then I have a spoonful of Calpol so that I can connect through time with my infant self and tell him that he doesn't need to be scared of Grandad for much longer.
I introduce the tip of a banana to my anus and allow it to soak in some of the vitamins and potassiums  and then I bury the rest of the banana in a pot on my balcony which contains a bonsai tree and avocado plant. The balcony has absolutely fab views of Marble Arch. 

I walk to work chewing grass like a cow which prevents toxic air entering my bloodstream and also helps me develop a second stomach which might come in useful if I were to ever get cancer.
Instead of listening to music on my commute I turn on my MammalPod, a device that looks like an iPod with headphones but instead of playing music it blows spores, moulds and fungus inside my head which gives me super energies and helps me focus at work. Doctors say if I keep using it I could go deaf or even die within the year.

When I arrive at the office I challenge every member of the team - 25 in total- to a knife fight. This asserts dominance and puts my head into 'Jungle Mode'.
I have a Frappuccino and wash it down with 2kgs of Ayahuaska which helps me concentrate on work for 30 minutes before I enter a nightmarish and terrifying fugue-like state in which I experience hallucinogenic visions of tree demons. The team spend the next 2 hours trying to prevent me from jumping out of the 135th floor of The Gherkin until lunch.

I have a 'Light Lunch' which involves sitting at my desk shining a torch into my own mouth for 10 minutes. I bite and nibble at the rays emitting from my LED Maglite which detoxifies by body and contains all the same nutrients found in a crab salad. 
I then blog. My lunchtime blog has almost 17 followers and involves me talking - in a sort of stream of consciousness - about what I think happens when we die.
I spend the rest of lunch flicking frozen peas at the microwave and muttering to myself about Hanuman, the Hindu Monkey God.
I take off my shoes for the rest of the day so that my energy can connect with the planet's core. 

I drink 12 gallons of water just in time to stave off the early stages of dehydration.  I keep all my water in a tank with an electric eel. The electric pulses add crystalline biorhythms to the water which make me invincible to any weapons built on Earth.
I then have a Kit Kat.
I work for the rest of the day redirecting traffic from redundant websites to clickbait articles online.

I usually have a meeting with the boss in which I beg him not to fire me before doing another 30 minutes of yoga in the middle of the office floor to bring down my heart rate and prepare me for the commute home.

On the way home I eat out of date yoghurts which introduce bacteria into my body. I go home and cry and shit blood.

I go to the gym. My local gym is called 'The Gun Factory' and is actually a replica of a 1930's, Sheffield, steel foundry. As I lift red hot gurders on chains I drink isotonic soup drinks and keep my energy up with raw chicken wings marinated in Ezekial Beans and Chia Seeds.

I go back to my flat and drink CBD oil - derived from cannabis but doesn't make you high- and shine infrared lasers into my head whilst I paint the faces of people who have had a big impact on my day onto my toes and thank them all for coming with me on today's journey. 

I lock my phone devices away and do 5 minutes of mental Taekwondo where I picture myself fighting in my mind's eye. 
I drink a shot of semen extracted from a shark and put on the sound of bullfrogs on my 'Bang And Olufsen Surround Sound Music System' which takes me back to the week I spent in the mangroves with Jason.

I put on my 'Lucid Dreaming Device' which flashes a red light into my eyes every time I have a dream about Grandad so that I can wake up and avoid the night terrors, and then it's off to sleep, ready to take on another day as the biggest cunt in the entire world.  

REVIEW- 2018

I'm going to review the new 'Now...' compilation again.
This time I've invited my band along to help. We released a few tracks (I noticed none of them are on the comp) this year which has propelled us into absolutely nowhere and secured our place in musical history right alongside all the people who've never released anything. 

This is my third year reviewing the 'Now... ' compilations and I was absolutely fucking stunned last year to learn that the quality of pop music was, in fact, getting worse. I hold out zero hope that that trajectory has gone in any other direction, so I've had to dose myself up to the tits on Kestrel Super Strength and Herbal speed just to ensure that I'm just far enough removed from reality and ensure that the music won't send me into an anaphylactic shock like it did last year.
Let's go. This is all sort of your fault.

Fuck this, I'm out....Changed my mind about doing the entire thing. 


Called 'Camel Girl' because of the way her legs bent backwards apparently. She worked in a circus in Tennessee around about 1886.
I think unless you've got a hump on your back then you shouldn't really be messing about with the word camel. I'd probably have gone with 'Labrador Girl' or 'Crab Legs' or something like that.
She's got a face like a smacked arse but I suppose you would as well if you had to get about on your hands in the late 18 hundreds when everyone was still luzzing buckets of their own tod out onto the pavement.
Imagine her crawling into your window at night. That would be properly shit wouldn't it?

My first thought here is, why's he bothering to comb it? In terms of looking good and impressing the ladies, combing your own nose falls very firmly into the category of pissing in the wind.
His Mum fucked him off when he was baby apparently so he joined the circus in England and New York in the 1890s. Apparently he was a very well educated and gentle man, despite looking like a vision you might have if you inserted an entire sheet of LSD into your own eyeballs and broke into Sesame Street at night with your next door neighbour's dog.

It can't be a coincidence that his given name is 'Wang' can it? I've got to be honest that if I had a kid with a massive erect penis sticking out of his head then I'd probably go with something like that as well for a name. I don't know why they've bothered giving him the 'unicorn' thing as a nickname. Wang does the job just fine.
I showed this picture to Martin Clunes and he said he'd like to rub baby oil over the horn thing and then try to squeeze a lemon over the bell end bit at the top. Honestly don't know what the fuck is wrong with that man.


Fucking hell. Look at this bong-eyed bombshell. She's got it all going on. Brave topping it all off with 90's curtains as well. She looks like what might happen if you poured a pint of hot piss into one of those crime, photo-fit, computers and it spazzed out and came up with this. 
I know you've got to be careful these days about gender issues but there's absolutely no fucking way this is a woman.


Absorbed her twin in the womb and ended up with two little legs sticking out of her bits. From the twin's point of view it doesn't get much worse than that. Anyway, she joined a circus and made an absolute killing. The only thing you really need to know about her other than the fact she's got fanny legs is that she had 5 kids. 5 fucking kids. Her husband must have been absolutely insane. As soon as you display any interest in having sex with a pair of withered legs that are sticking out of someone's vagina I reckon you need to be locked up ASAP in my book.


Unlike the others on the list Juan didn't want to join a circus which properly pissed them all off because they'd have been dining out for fucking years on the mental shit that was going on with his downstairs mixup.
So he had two wangers sitting there and three ball bags and then God thought "actually I might stick another little leg down there as well" as if  it wasn't all bonkers enough. 
He's basically a batshit crazy, sex machine man, and he knew it. His extra knacker sacks meant he could just keep going and apparently he once had it off with a French sideshow entertainer called Blanche Dumas who also had an extra leg and shit loads of  cock sockets. If anyone had filmed that shit it'd make David Cronenberg look like fucking Beatrix Potter


Born in Milton Kenyes in 1833, over 100 years before Milton Keynes even existed, the second son of Ernie and Philomena Posnet, Edward  was born a perfectly normal little boy apart from the fact that he had a fish tail, the face of a demon and a massive, pendulous pair of tits. By the age of 6, he spent much of  his life swimming around the local waterways and feasting on coots, mallards and kingfishers, which he would catch using a Supersoaker 5000 that he'd modified to fire poisoned darts. He stopped going to school at the age of about 10 because he would lick the other children with his leathery tongue and whisper predictions of their impending deaths into their ears when the teacher wasn't looking. He was never wrong and many of the children did indeed take their own lives almost exactly to the moment that Edward had predicted. Edward was also a star striker on the school football team although details about this are sketchy and presumably not at all true.
Edward eventually joined a circus where he was killed, pickled and displayed in an oak display case. He can still be seen on display in the Milton Keynes Central Station branch of Pizza Express and rumour has it that if you touch his nipple and make a wish then you'll disappear for a few seconds before reappearing as a screaming old man and bursting into a cloud of dust. In 2010 this was proved to be true and Pizza Express have since promised to keep a closer eye on their customers interfering with the wall-mounted, fossilised, abomination to God.


Obviously we've got Victoria Beckham these days so this isn't that amazing, but back in 1841 this was quite something. Apparently normal until twelve then all his fat muscles just fucked off. A real kick in the teeth for anyone who doesn't want to have to live in a Victorian Circus and then die. Most people I'd have thought.


She doesn't really look like a mule. I honestly don't know if you can be more offensive than that to a horse. Me and my mate Simon Famish (a badger) once saw a horse that looked a bit like this I suppose, but that was because Simon had just booted a wasp's nest into the cunt's face because the horse had kept saying that badgers all had fat arses because they let farmers bum them in exchange for biscuits. In Simon's case this was in fact true but the horse should have known when to leave it.
Anyway, Grace had kids as well which is mad. I don't want to be out of order so I'm going to give her a compliment sandwich.
a)I like how her mouth looks like a hamburger
b) She's going to give me the sort of nightmares where I wake up crying blood tonight I reckon
c) That's a nice dress


 Edward was born with a face on the back of head. The face couldn't eat or speak and they thought it might be blind, but it would sneer and scowl when Edward was happy and would laugh and smile when Edward was sad. Edward asked the doctors to cut the cunt off  because it used to whisper things to him at night that "one would only speak about in hell" but the doctors said they thought it was funny so they wouldn't do it. It would probably be quite annoying having someone strapped to the back of your skull if you liked them, but Edward thought this guy was an absolute fuck lord so he must have found it well annoying. 
If you look at the picture you can see that he gave him a little haircut though and he obviously hasn't ever heard of a hat. I'd have grown my hair like Lil Wayne and bought a beanie made out of lead, but perhaps when you have a demon living just behind your own ears, it's best to just meet him halfway for a quiet life. 
Anyway Edward begged for them to smash this wanker's face in "lest it whisper to me in the grave" but everyone had become accustomed to the demon now and used to enjoy giving it snouts and flicking monkey nuts into its eyes when Edward was down 'Spoons.
Edward did himself in at the age of 23. The face went on to become Secretery Of State For Education, Michael Gove.

Name: Gnawvax
Team: Partick Thistle
Terror Score: 8
About: Partick Thistle got the idea for their new mascot after their goalie, Ted McCluster, described a vivid dream he had had after taking peyote and bingeing on a Simpson's boxset following the death of his dog. He described the terrifying scenes as the demon crawled out from his TV and dragged him through a portal where he was slowly devoured, atom by atom, by the yellow rascal. 
"After that night all I could see was darkness", said McCluster in 442 Magazine.
The result was Gnawvax, a mascot that can really strike fear into the hearts of Thistle's opponents.
Ted McCluster committed suicide with a banana after a brief spell in an Aberdeen Psychiatric Unit.

Name: Filthy Gary
Team: Scunthorpe United
Terror Score: 4
About: The only mascot in the premiere league to have started his life in the porn industry, Filthy Gary was found in the back of a shop that sold bongo mags and big rubber wangers under a flyover on the outskirts of Scunthorpe
Rumour has it that his whiskers were pulled out by legendary adult film star, Ron Jeremy whilst filming a particularly niche scene in the film 'Big Natural Wank Rabbits 4'. The online chat forums on the Scunthorpe United website constantly feature petitions to replace the mascot with something more sanitary. Though some fans use the chatroom to buy and sell videos from Filthy Gary's saucey back catalogue.

Name: Billy the EDL Goat
Team: Southampton F.C
Terror Score: 7
About: When it comes to gruff, it doesn't get much more so than this intimidating little customer. Jumping on the 'Brexit-Britain' bandwagon, Southampton have come up with the sort of mascot that says "first I'm going to free Tommy Robinson, and then we'll have a lovely game of football"
This militant Billy Goat comes with his own backstory according to Southampton's website. He's spent the last 10 years in the slammer for burning down his local Post Office and now he parades up the Southampton coastline, armed to teeth and protecting the shores of Britain from foreigners.
Some people have criticised Southampton for Billy The EDL Goat, particularly considering that they only have 3 English players in their entire squad. 
Manager, Mark Hughs, has refused to comment

Name: Dr Javier Fetlock, The Magical Satanic Horse
Team: Huddersfield
Terror Score: 8
About: When it comes to innovation, Huddersfield have really broken the mould this year they as they unveil 'Dr Javier Fetlock, The Magical Satanic Horse', not just a mascot, but also a game in his own right. 
Each fixture, the horse is instructed to hunt out a young child, gallop over to him or her and stand directly in front of them at an intimidating proximity that will undoubtedly get right into the child's dreams. 
£10'000 a week and 4 season tickets are up for grabs for any youngster who can successfully ignore the unhallowed equine for the full 90 minutes whilst it whispers diabolical verses about their parents inevitable death into their ears in a terrifying, slow, drawl.
Chairman, Dean Hoyle, has said " I don't expect we'll be giving much money away. Far more likely that the little fucker will lose his composure, wet his pants and then I expect it'll be an awkward drive home from the game for the entire family as Dad loses his rag. It's going  to be wonderful".

Name: Jim Scrote
Team: Burnley F.C
Terror Score: 3
About: Due to a communication mixup between the club, the mascot designer and someone shouting "You're Bollcoks!" out of a van window, Burnley F.C will be starting the season supported by unlikely mascot, Jim Scrote, a pair of knackers that have magically come to life and, as legend has it, live beneath the turf, raping all the ants. Ok Burnley, if you say so.  

Name: Haunted Paul
Team: Macclesfield Town
Terror Score: 7.5
About: Inspired by a story in the early 1800's about a man who got stung in the face by a wasp spider and lived in a barn in the Peak District just outside Macclesfield until being discovered by an unfortunate farmer and going on a 4 day murder bender with a sledgehammer until finally being caught waterboarding an old lady with his own blood near Congelton, the story of Haunted Paul is one regaled to children on Christmas Day every year around the Cheshire and Derbyshire border. This year Macclesfield Town are finally adopting him as their mascot. About time too.

Name: Hugo Tryst
Team: Yeovil Town
Terror Score: 9
About: Terrifying yet true, Yeovil Town's mascot may look like a costume but is, in fact, local retired butcher, Hugo Tryst who, in 2009, underwent a medical procedure that sadly went wrong causing his head to swell up like a pig's underpants. His lips and nose ballooned into a freaky, cartoonish monstrosity that left surgeons around the world stumped. People say that beneath his hat you'll find his old face screaming up into the black void, though this has been strongly denied by several medical professionals. 
Hugo now has to wear special diving boots issued by the local council which prevent him from running away and attacking people.
Every match day he is sedated and 'released' to meet the fans and cheer on the his beloved team from the sidelines, always with at least four M16 sniper rifles aimed at his head from the rafters.

So, last year I thought it would be interesting to review 'Now That's What I Call Music 95' and, far from encouraging me to keep my finger on the pulse of pop culture, it made me more determined than ever to avoid the dreadful, dreadful horse-shit that people seem happy to have sluiced directly into their stupid heads these days. 
It was, without exception, the biggest load of bollocks I've ever heard in my entire life and it took me several months to get over it. It was like if someone had found a way to extract 'liquid Alzheimers' and have it melted down onto CD. It was like hearing 1000 dogs screaming and then opening your eyes to realise that you're underwater with your leg chained to a washing machine and you're being bummed by a cuttlefish. Actually it wasn't really that much like that.
In the first few weeks after listening to it I was essentially catatonic, staggering around parks drinking Kestrel Super Strength, only pausing every so often to vomit black blood into the undergrowth every time I recalled the song 'Do You Know Love?' by Olly Murrs.
After that I started to come to my senses and after a bit of exercise, rest and some time rebuilding my cognitive skills with the use of a new drug called 'Dr Apokalypses Gorilla Rampage Tonic' that I bought off my mate Jonty Panpipes, I started to feel a lot more like myself, but with more killings.
The other day I lost a game of 'wink at the van' against Cwis Packham and my mate Jason Hoofbite and they dared me to fucking do it again.
So here we go...

It sounds like Rhianna learning to play piano in a church hall whilst a priest (with hiccups) hits an abacus with a badminton racket, and, to be fair, I think that's a pretty fair description of the entire music industry for the past decade. 
As I recall, last year's 'Now...' compilation was bursting with so many faux-Carribean tropes, it was like having your bollocks held in a vice-like grip by Sebastian the crab from 'The Little Mermaid' whilst the cast of 'Cool Runnings' luzzed cans of Lilt at your fucking head from a coconut tree. With this song however, some clever dick has remembered that, though still in the Caribbean, Cuba has a unique musical style that's overdue being ripped off by some talentless, bland cunt in America. I'm now bracing myself for the possibility that I might have to listen to some warbling bender jabber over the top of someone playing an Antiguan Nose flute or something.
Fuck this.

2 - POST MALONE, 21 SAVAGE - Rockstar
Quite a lot of swearing in this which I hate.
Never heard of this cunt so I just Googled him. He looks ridiculous. He looks like a Jewish Rabbi who's accidentally got himself extremely addicted to all known drugs. At best he looks like an Amish simpleton who's been fired into Topshop with an enormous catapult. 
The actual music is too boring to deserve a mention.

3 - SAM SMITH - Too Good At Goodbyes
Not good enough at goodbyes if anything. Must try harder. 
Is this what the kids are listening to? Have they never heard of Pantera?
This is as tedious as an old cow. Whilst I was listening to it I started looking at one of my claws and thinking about how weird it would be if my claw was full of tiny little penises and then when I came round I realised I'd eaten my paw off and pushed it down a drain and all the ducks were laughing at me. That doesn't happen when you listen to 'Rock You Like A Hurricane' by Scorpions does it?

4 - P!NK - What About Us
It's like Europop. This sound should have consigned to the annals of history back in about 1995. It sounds a bit like the sort of music you'd expect to hear faintly pulsing out of a Lithuanian nightclub somewhere in the distance whilst you get buried alive on the side of a hill by a gang of sex traffickers in leather jackets. 
I wonder if that was what P!nk was going for.

5 - DUA LIPA - New Rules
I just listened to this track about 4 times to see if I could find anything interesting to say about it. Like the last one it's basically a synth sound that was briefly popular about 20 years ago accompanied by some girl warbling over the top with the unwelcome addition of what sounds like a van reversing throughout the entire chorus. After about 4 listens I started to quite enjoy it which means that it must contain some sort of subliminal, hypnotic, algorithms that brainwash people into liking it because there is absolutely no way that it isn't 100% fucking crap.

6 ED SHEERAN - Galway Girl
It doesn't sound like all the other stuff so far, and that's to its credit. However it does sound like a B*Witched B-Side. As far as Irish music goes, this is the worst 'Irish Song' that's ever been written. It makes 'My Lovely Horse' sound like 'Fairytale of New York'.

7- CHARLIE PUTH - How Long
The album artwork is ridiculous. He's sat on a bed sort of looking like he's just had an argument with his keyboard and now the pair of them are just laying there sulking. If I was his keyboard I'd probably have called him a useless cunt as well. Don't know who he is but I his voice winds me up and I genuinely hope his head burts into flames. I genuinely mean that.

8 - CNCO, LITTLE MIX - Reggaeton Lento
It's like a really bad pop song that's been made worse by having Spanish guitars poured all over it like gravy made out of gonorrhoea  It basically sounds like leather trousers, it's the audio equivalent of the concept of leather trousers. From what I can gather it's basically Little Mix taking it in turns to choose which pair of leather trousers to be rohypnoled by in a bar in Malaga that's got bras hanging from the ceiling. After I listened to this I started getting a little rash in the corner of my mouth,

There is no music in this one. It's just the looped sound of a gibbon that's had his fingers trapped in a Black and Decker Workmate with the two Spanish barmen from the club I mentioned above, talking bollocks over the top. It's properly unlistenable. I think someone should send it to Langley, Virginia, so that the C.I.A can use to extract intel from terrorists. If you played it to someone more than twice then they'd sing like a fucking canary. Probably a far more effective tool than extracting fingernails or attaching knackers to car batteries. I honestly reckon if you listened to this song four times in a row your head would just fucking burst like an egg in a microwave.

This song sets the bar pretty fucking low for drum technicality and sounds like someone monotonously firing a nail gun into a damp mattress from start to finish. The lyrics are so clunky they sound like they've been written by someone who's still in shock after crashing into the back of a van on a motorbike.

11 -  ZAYN, SIA - Dusk till Dawn
Pretty much the same as the last song. Fucking boring. You might as well plug your headphones into a bag of crabs and listen to that instead. Once I got to the end of listening to this song I felt really dizzy and did a fart and blood came out.

12-  DEMI LOVATO - Sorry Not Sorry
This song is so boring that if you started a rumour that it didn't exist then everyone, including Demi Lovato, would believe you after a couple of days.

13-  STEFFLON DON - Hurtin' Me
Sort of a 90's, R&B thing with Caribbean vibes like all the other songs. The only way anyone could think this is good is if this was the first song ever. If she'd sort of invented the entire concept of singing over music then some people might consider this quite interesting but even then I think most people would think it was utter dogshit and should be a lot better than it even is.

I don't know what a Digital Farm Animals is but it reminds me of the time my mate Yarnold Pentecost strapped about 40 digital watches to a cow's legs, all with the alarm set to go off every 10 or 15 minutes.  The cow got so angry that after about 4 hours his head floated off into the sky and loads of tiny mice with parachutes on floated out of his anus.
I wasn't really listening to the song. It sounded less good than Crohn's disease.

15- KHALID  - Young, dumb & broke
This is sort of a bit like reggae but made by someone who's never actually heard any reggae and only had it explained to them by a dog.

16- MAROON 5, SZA  - What Lovers Do
Didn't these cunts used to be a real band about 20 years ago? I'm sure they were an absolute shit tornado back then as well but I'm sure they didn't used to sound like a 16 year old impersonating Just Bieber in their mum's bedroom. 
These benders have obviously got about as much integrity as the girders that held up the twin towers.
I'd rather listen to 'Moves like Jagger' than this which is strange because 'Moves Like Jagger' did for music what Dr Harold Shipman did for people's trust in medical professionals.
If it was up to me I'd have Maroon 5 put directly onto the sex offenders register for this song.

17- JASON DERULO  - If I'm Lucky
Couldn't lock onto this one long enough to have an opinion. It was like someone holding a hedge strimmer up to your head and asking you if you like the tune whilst it occasionally tears little chunks out of your lobes and sends bits of your ear flying across the room like bumblebees made out of pork. Boring and painful in equal measures. Like being constricted and devoured by a python that's telling you which roads it used to drive from Doncaster to Bishops Stortford.
The fact that someone bothered hiring a studio and going through all the rigmarole that it takes to record, produce and release a song for this is frankly mind bending.

18- CLEAN BANDIT  - I Miss You

Don't know what's wrong with young people. It seems like the threat of being blasted in ribbons by an incendiary ball of nuclear light has taken its toll on their fucking world view. All the music's so slow and downbeat. They've got less energy than a AAA battery in a flood damaged Poundstretcher.
I think Marks and Spencer used on of these guy's songs one of their adverts for about 2 years. The only way M&S will be using this song in an advert  is if they start selling trips to Dignitas. 

19- ALMA  - Chasing Highs

I've done 17 songs now and I'm starting to feel really poorly again. I wasn't concentrating and I just slit one of my hind legs open and started pushing snails into it and now my leg is sort of burning and also feels really cold at the same time. My Mate Sexy Chris just came over to ask why I'd been listening to so much tod for the last 3 hours and I made him sit through this song and he just started crying and then flew off and smashed into the side of a bus shelter and now he's just lying on the ground in a puddle with loads of sort of black treacle firing out of his tits. It's quite a scene. I might have to take a little break.

20- ZEDD, LIAM PAYNE  - Get Low

We used to take the piss out of countries like Moldova and Former Yugoslavian Repulic of Macedonia in the Eurovision Song Contest because their pop music was just pumping electronic drums sampled from a gay sauna with some cheesy little cunt singing bobbins over the top. That's what Britain does now. That's the entire pop music output. I would say that sounding like an Eastern block country from 1993 might go some way to help the United Kingdom's Eurovision campaign, but after Brexit the Rolling Stones could enter and we'd still get fuck all so we might as well just feed a pig loads of Pop Tarts and Haribo Starmix and then walk it on stage and hold a microphone to its quivering, fluttering arsehole. Or we could submit this song which is only slightly less good than that but far less interesting to watch.

21- CHARLI XCX  - Boys

This sounds like a woman having sex with Super Mario while magic coins fall out of her bum.
If you think of a good song, this is like the opposite of that.

22- RITA ORA  - Anywhere
Can't stand doing this anymore. This one's causing by brain to bleed. It's so boring that I genuinely considered killing myself just to make it stop but then I remembered I can just press the 'off' button.

Got excited when I saw the song title was 'silence'. Was hoping it was going to be heavily influenced by John Cage's 1952 composition '4'33' in which the performers are instructed to just sit there and do nothing for four and a half minutes. I wish Marshmello and Khalid had been instructed to do that because that would have saved me from smashing my fist through a window and squeezing the blood into my ears so that I didn't have to hear it as much.

24- AVICCI, RITA ORA  - Lonely Together

If someone had told me this song was written by a shoe then I'd have asked "What kind of shoe?"
At no point would I have actually doubted whether it had been written by a shoe or not

25- JAMES HYPE, KELLI-LEIGH  - More Than Friends

This song apparently "samples" the song 'More Than Friends' by En Vogue. If sampling is just dragging a song into Garageband and playing it 50% faster then that shoe I just mentioned above could actually be as successful as David Guetta and get flown around the world in a fucking Learjet. Being a musician these days takes all the skill and musical dexterity of a dildo that's had a face crudely drawn onto the side of it with dog baff. 

26- YUNGEN, YXNG - Bestie

If you own a keyboard with at least 2 working keys and know how to make that high-pitched warbling sound using autotune that's in every single song so far, then that's pretty much the equivalent of knowing what next week's lottery numbers are as far of making a quick buck in the music industry these days. 
People keep talking about all the plastic waste at the moment, I reckon Casio and the others could definitely cut it down to two keys. Synthesizers might as well start looking more like a deer's hoof than a piano.
This song's fucking terrible by the way.

27- CHRIS BROWN - Questions

If you've ever broken into a hospital under cover of darkness, found the bins that hold all the medical waste awaiting incineration and clambered in and found a syringe and just gone mental and started injecting blood and drugs and soiled laundry and shimmering, yellowy fluids into your fucking head...then this is the song for you.

28- CRAIG DAVID -Heartline
Don't know who's responsible for letting Craig David back into the music industry but I suspect it was dark lord of the underworld, Satan. Craig David must have been gargling Satan's balls so deep they'd have been cooking in his stomach acid like a couple of boiled eggs in a saucepan.
This song's used the tune of children's favourite playground taunt and possibly most annoying song ever - 'I'm the king of the castle and you're a dirty rascal'. As far as 'musical influences' go it's hardly fucking Beethoven. Because of this it's absolutely unlistenable. 

Right I can't handle doing Disk 2. I'm only going to do disk 2 by popular demand so fuck it.