P Diddy steals from Smoove B
Here is the proof, if proof be need be:
P Diddy:"I've spent a lot of time with Kim [Porter, mother to three of Diddy's children] in Paris, and it's been perfect.
As soon as we landed, we went straight to the Eiffel Tower, drank champagne at the top and just kissed and kissed. Then we went up to my suite and had tantric sex for at least 30 hours, ordering up whipped cream and strawberries while we were at it.
As meticulous as I am with my work, I'm more meticulous with lovemaking. I like to do it for a long time.
After leaving our hotel, me and Kim were driven down the Champs-Elysees in my Mercedes Maybach at 4 a.m., with music playing in the background and we saw so many beautiful sights together."
[ via The Mirror]
Smoove B:At precisely 8 o'clock, I will arrive in a pearl-white car to pick you up and transport us to dinner at the city's finest European restaurant. I will tell the driver to take the most romantic, scenic route possible to the restaurant.
On the way, I will have a sterling-silver thermos filled with hot chocolate from the Swiss chocolate region. If it is too hot for you, I will blow on it until it is the correct temperature.
After the meal, we will forgo transportation and walk the five blocks back to my apartment, because the night will be so fragrant and beautiful. I will hold your hand and stroke your wrist lightly with my thumb. As we approach my apartment, I will pull you close, and it will feel right. It will feel like we are two interlocking pieces of a sexy panther jigsaw puzzle.
If the moon is full, I will point it out to you.
When we reach my penthouse, I will remove your shoes and kiss you passionately for five to ten minutes. Just when you think you are going crazy with desire, I will lead you to my large, circular bathtub. There, I will strip you down and place your naked body gently into the perfectly warm water. Then, I will wash you with a towel of my choosing. Make no mistake, it will be the perfect towel for your beautiful body, fitting your every luscious contour. If the scented perfumes I have placed in your bath water are not to your liking, I will drain the tub and we will start over. But they will not be incorrect, so we will not have to. I know you, girl.
After I have dried and moisturized you, I will comb your hair. If, while combing your hair, you would like me to comb either faster or harder, please say so. While I am doing this combing, you will think you will know love, but Smoove is ready to take you to the next level.
This is when Smoove will lead you to his canopy bed. Keith Sweat will be playing on my bedroom stereo, creating the perfect mood for us to freak all night. And freak all night is what we shall do. Between freakings, we will laugh and tell stories, and I will rub your neck and back. Then we will freak again. This will go on until the break of dawn.
Damn.
When you wake up, I will make you French toast. If French toast is not what you desire, I will find another nationality of toast that suits you. I will not rest until I find this perfect nationality of toast, even if I have to swim all the way to Austria for it. After I find and make the toast, and you eat it, we will freak once more.
This is how the evening will go. This is how you will know love."
[via The Onion]



Five Star were as big as Jack Black's pants back in the 80s. The press called them Britain's answer to the Jacksons, because they were five sisters and brothers doing lite R&B numbers with dance routines. Spookily, one of them would also go on to show his willy to people who did not want to see his willy, but we didn't know that then.
"Marvel at the costumes, Gasp at the dance moves and sing along (badly) to all the hits!!!" says Daz, who has lost control of the excalamation mark key.

Just a quick note to clarify my points about the PS3 in the next post down:
Last December, it seemed like every other post on here was about the Nintendo Wii and how much I was looking forward to getting my hands on one. Then it arrived and, one paltry review of Zelda later, everything went quiet. Here's what's happened since:

You will not have noticed that fantastic pop singer Robyn, from the fantastically Scandanavian country of Sweden, is releasing her fantastic single, Konichiwa Bitches, in the UK this week. This is a shame, as it is fantastic (I may have mentioned this already).
PS: I'm interviewing Robyn later this week. Put your questions in the comments box and I'll ask them. Nothing about marriage or bumsex, please.




By the mid-80s I only bought records in the 12" format. As an aspiring musician, they were actually quite educational - the teased out bass lines and harmonies actually taught me a lot of the basics of song-writing. I'm not so keen now, though. Dance music essentially gave remixers the excuse to overlay the original track with a turgid thump-thump-thump drumbeat and leave it at that.



It seems that pop is a bit in the doldrums at the moment, unless you count Take That (which we do) and Mika (which we don't). All those identikit curly-haired indie bands are hoovering up all the airspace and perfectly reasonable acts like Jamelia and All Saints are being pushed aside. The only hoover action they'll be seeing is in their front room, sucking up dust while watching The Box and weeping silently.

While the media slowly help Britney towards an early grave in Malibu, at least one person is thinking about 
Natasha Bedingfield is back, back, BACK! ETC!
In other news from the long held musical beliefs being turned on their head desk, the new single from Avril Lavigne is also quite good. 

So last night on Fabulous Rrrrradio One Eff Emm they played the new Arctic Monkeys single. Taken from their forthcoming sophomore album, Favourite Worst Nightmare, it's called Brian Storm (do you see what they did there?). It has since been played on the station every two hours or so. There's a law about it, apparently.
