The Brits on tv last night was the usual celebration of corporate and individual wealth.

Hosted by multi-millionaire media businessman Chris Evans with a finale paying homage to multi-millionaire media businessman Sir Bob Geldof; homage to his contribution to music.

Now Sir Bob's outstanding contribution to the abolition of world hunger is well documented and a triumph for the human race, but just what has he done for music? A man who last week said he was frustrated with Africa (aren't we all?), that he now wants to concentrate on his music, now performs his two biggest hits from a quarter of a century ago, piss poor early Springsteen imitations, and releases all the Boomtown Rats albums for his adoring public of one cretin and his dog ('Give us your fucking money! You mutt!')

It really is time for a compulsory retirement age of 40 for pop musicians, and I'm being generous here. Just imagine, no more Sir Bob, Sir Cliff, Jools and Tom Jones, Queen with Paul 'Hernia Face' Rodgers....Heaven.

Of course, heaven contains the beautiful, sublime Scissor Sisters but also the ugly, plodding Keane. How the music industry intelligentsia voted for both these acts as producing the best International and British albums could possibly, just possibly be because they were the two top selling albums in the UK last year. Someone who likes Keane cannot appreciate good music. That person is a bland, witless, cloth-eared fool.

There was something wrong last year when Jamie Cullum won a MOBO (an ASBO would've been more apt), and there's something wrong this year when viewers of MTV Base choose Joss Stone as Best British Urban Act. The regressive, fog-horned voiced white teenage pensioner from priviledged stock is reinvented as a cool kid from the inner city? And Franz Ferdinand are chosen by Kerrang!TV viewers as best rock act? Kerrang! is ROCK! Franz Ferdinand are art pop. They don't mix! You've been had, Mr Brit!