:: I N S I D E R V I E W S ::

Old Puff certainly knows how to keep the entertainment flowing for the over 70’s. Who needs Vera Lynne when you can watch Puff fuck the arse off of one of his female dancers. (It was a little bit embarrassing when the music stopped and Puff was seen to be in the middle of a very realistic sex routine, much to the horror of the rest of the band. ‘Puff, umm, I can see your dick!’)

Still once Puff had ‘blown his top’, he came on for his encore. (He didn’t sing. He just shagged another dancer), but as my Granddad said in the car park afterwards…’Man, that Puff chap can fuck like an animal,. Grandma, you’d better watch your ass tonight.’

B A C K B R I T N E Y . . .
It wouldn’t be a classic week in the world of pop without some news on ‘the only woman I’ve ever loved’……..Britney Spears.

This week I can give you an exclusive insight into her new album……..

It will finally be released later in the year, and guess which ‘bum faced horse’ has got his hands on another pop beauty……….Well it’s that old ‘Lama in the Whore House’ Mutt Lange, who you all know as the ‘camera shy’ husband of Shania Twain.

How the hell he managed to get to work with my Britney, I’ll never know. (I’ve been trying to ‘collaborate’ with her on one of my tunes called ‘Virgin Sex Slave’, but she’s yet to reply), but to give old donkey nuts credit his song ‘Don’t Let Me Be The Last To Know’ has certainly got Britney to hit some high notes, by using his trade mark ‘Golden Cucumber’ method. (It’s not like that. He makes sure every singer he works with eats a bowl of’ cucumber and honey’ before they sing. It helps relax the ‘larynx’ apparently.)

And in more news Britters is hitting the U.K next year to tour all the big arenas. Apparently, there’s loads of ‘costume changes’, but they take place back stage which is a massive disappointment. But get your tickets quick lads as they’re sure to be snapped up fast.

Also, any security firm that will be working for Britney’s Wembley Arena dates next summer, and that fancies employing a young man to monitor the security video surveillance system for Britney’s dressing room then I’m your man. I have a lot of experience from working at Clapham’s BHS, so e-mail me here at Insider Towers.

O L D T R O U T F A R M E R . . .

Well, well, well, where do I begin? News reaches me this week of what I can only describe as an O.A.Ps coach trip to Bournemouth that will soon be hitting the road. Except the coach in question is a million dollar tour bus, and the O.A.Ps are in fact The WHO. Yes, the ‘living dead’ are set to tour the world again later this year.

Looks as if old ‘trout fingers’ Roger Daltrey is slowly running out of money. A report suggests his trout farm is now losing him millions each week.

Reporter : ‘How does your trout farm work Roger?'
Roger : ‘I put them in the water and they swim around.’

Dear, oh dear. When will these bubbling old war veterans realise their time is over? In 1966 they were the rebels and the voice of youth. Now they have all the anger and energy of a collection of Victorian cushions.

‘See Me, Touch Me, Feel Me’ I believe the song goes, and I’m pretty sure if you fool a young audience to turn up and ‘see’ you Roger, they will ‘touch’ you very quickly in the face, after which you’ll be screaming for ambulance men to ‘feel’ you as you suddenly lose all sensation from the neck downwards.

S P I C E R A C K . . .

I’ve said it all along those ‘singing tarts’ the Spice Girls are nothing but a terrible example to young slags all over the world, and now my claims have been finally recognised by a group of Danish researchers.

This week they announced the Spice Girls have ‘the worst influence on eight to twelve year old girls when it comes to dressing and acting like grown ups’.

My uncle ‘Reggie’ was also ‘researched’ and his influence on young girls was also said to be sick, especially as it was him who was dressing up like a tart and shagging a young footballer from the local park. Also, Reggie's idea of ‘spicing up his life’ was to cover himself in parsley and attempt to shove a spice rack up his back passage.

So, there you have it. Dumb pregnant popstars are nothing but trouble. According to the report they make young lads horny and force 12 year old girls to dress up in next to nothing, which as we all know is nothing new and has been happening on every housing estate well before the Spice Girls were even heard of.

D I N G O S I N G E R S . . .
Despite the hype, the TV and press coverage it seems the singing dingos (Sister2Sister) have failed to acquire the interest they hoped for from the British public.

Could this be because the song 'Sister' is a pile of Dingo DoDo, the British have taken enough Aussie crap,or simply Murdock's muppets got the whole loving sisters concept wrong?

Maybe if they had taken a more realistic approach and called the first single 'My sister’s a bitch' they would have had a better response from their target audience.

Just goes to show that too many mushrooms can distort a sense of reality and Rupert Murdock is still Australian.

P U S S Y C A T S . . .
Anyone who’s seen this months issue of FHM will know it’s crammed full of the best beaver from the world of pop. I’m not talking about any old ‘tart in a bra’ I’m talking about the ‘best lamb chops in the butchers’.

Yep, as I flick though the pages I can see Claire from Steps, and ‘oooooohhhhhh there she blows’…….Hannah from S-club 7.

However, let’s just say just as the ‘lava was about to flow down the mountain’ I ‘came across’ those singing ‘Irish cleaners’ B*witched.

Um Hello ? How the hell did this pack of dogs slip through the net? They have all the sex appeal of a mini bus full of hair dressers on a night out in Portsmouth. What’s worse is that the poor fools try and make out they’re sex animals when they don’t know how to spell ‘Gang Bang’. (Offer this lot sex involving ‘Chocolate love tunnels’ and they’d decline because they ‘don’t like chocolate’.)

S T E R E O M C s . . .
Well, slap my nuts and call me ‘Peter’ if it ain’t one of the great bands of 1992 Stereo Mc’s who this week announced that they are set to return with a new album at the end of the year.

As you may well remember this band consisted of one very pale looking ginger ferret who looked as if he’d been injecting an awful lot of ‘cough medicine’ from a burnt silver spoon on a housing estate in Glasgow.

Anyway, to cut a long boring story short they made a lot of people a lot of money from their album ‘Connected’ and in return were bought a huge field of ‘crops’ in Jamaica by their record company Island. This in hind sight now seems to have back fired, as for the last eight years the band have been in a some what relaxed state of mind, so much so that they recorded an album in 1996 only to completely forget where they’d put it. (It later turned up in a beach hut in Thailand.) Expect a great album from them when they can be arsed.

W E S T . . .
Anyone out there looking for the tour dates for Westlife I can give them to you now, but unfortunately they won’t be playing until 2001 as they’ve got to get used to the idea of singing and dancing at the same time, but here they are anyway. ……………

Feb 2001
16 Glasgow SEC
20 Newcastle Telewest Arena
23 Manchester Eve News Arena

March 2001
2 Birmingham NEC
6 Sheffield Arena
10 Wembley Arena

But why are you doing this? We don’t want to know! I can hear you cry.
Well, today is the day I urge every snooker club in the land to get together, buy tickets for the gigs and play a new game called : ‘Throwing snooker balls at Brian from Westlife’.

The rules of the game are very simple. You will get £500 from me, but only if Brian is seriously injured (i.e. : Ambulance is called). Don’t worry about the rest of them, I’m playing my very own game called ‘Clay Pigeon Westlife shooting’.

‘How does it work Ben?’

Well, my sweet believers, I get a gun and fire it at Westlife whilst they’re singing.
‘But, where are the clay pigeon Ben?.’ I hear you cry. We’ll there aren’t any.
That’s the beauty of the game. You’ve simply got to aim, shoot, and run.

I’ll keep you posted. But let’s get practising on Five first.

Ben