Top Chumps: Sloaner

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It can be easy to forget that very, very posh people still exist in London. Unless you spend a significant amount of time in the more well-to-do parts of west London you’re unlikely to see these frothing thoroughbreds swanning about. When you spot one it’s hard not to find yourself transfixed by every facet of their being. They appear frighteningly naive and cut off from the rest of the world; they’re so well-spoken and nasal it’s hard to fully understand what they’re saying; and they’re trapped in their own very traditional little fashion bubble, which hasn’t progressed one jot in at least the last three decades. Made in Chelsea, for me, is like a wildlife documentary show. Witnessing how these people interact I know how David Attenborough feels when he discovers the hunting habits of a rare form of mountain tiger. Here is a breakdown of this intriguing species.

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Paul Morley gazes at Grimes

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It is rare that I, Paul Morley, a man variously described as a “prophet” or “guru”, find myself late to the table of some new musical banquet. But I shall admit that in the case of Canadian dream pop singer Claire Boucher, who performs under the moniker Grimes, I have found myself sitting down to eat halfway through the entrée – nothing but a crumb of toasted brioche remains of the foie gras. Still, if something grabs you it grabs you and just because I wasn’t the first to recognise Ms. Boucher’s talents, as I was with Joy Division, Frankie Goes to Hollywood, The Drones and Kylie Minogue (in the actual, not artificial sense, of course), doesn’t mean I cannot guide you through the sensational (as in, “causing a sensation”) video to her hit MP3 single “Oblivion”.

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Paul Morley looks inside K Koke’s emotional prison (his mind)

K Koke

It is rare that I, Paul Morley, find myself as enraptured with a recording artist as I find myself now enraptured by one K Koke, a rapper hailing from north-west London’s forsaken Stonebridge Estate. Life here is a Hogarthian nightmare and the progress of our modern-day rake, Mr. Koke, is fascinating to witness. His stand out seven-inch single, ‘Are You Alone Fam?’, is a three-minute slice of vicious revenge laced with an emotional depth that is present in the work of few other lyricists working today. The song tells the story of ‘Spider’, known to Her Majesty’s government as Darren Mathurin and to some of his less charitably minded fellow estate dwellers as ‘rabbit dick’. Spider ‘turned grass’ on some of Mr. Koke’s posse in a bid to curry favour with the boys in blue. Well, that shit wasn’t going to fly on Stonebridge. Spider’s evidence led to no convictions, but as far as Mr. Koke was concerned his former friend was a ‘jake prick’ who needed to be torn apart through the medium of popular song. It’s nothing new of course. After all, Buddy Holly himself laid down a series of (unreleased) albums dedicated to barracking his enemies and you don’t need me to tell you that in the world of ‘urban’ music the ‘diss track’ is as old as the form itself (Bambaataa, Smalls, Dogg et al). So when Mr. Koke’s song landed in my inbox you won’t be surprised to know that I let out a big old yawn. Really? I thought. Another song about street characters turning snitch… please… But then, well, then I gave it a listen and the layers of meaning that came through broke their way past my Mission of Burma t-shirt into my formerly cold heart. Allow me to move in for a closer reading of some of the lyrics.

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Pop genetics

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Illustrator Alexis Economou has spent a number of months carrying out complex scientific studies to unravel the DNA of some of the most enigmatic pop stars of recent times (and Tinchy Stryder). Here are the results.

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Seven pictorial reasons why Bo Obama makes the bitches swoon

bo big deal

There are few dogs from better ‘stock’ than Bo Obama; his owner is the current U.S. President who was given him as a present by Ted Kennedy. As such, it’s unsurprising just how amazing this little guy is. When he’s not high-fiving pilots on Air Force 1 or holidaying in Hawaii, Bo spends his time playing football and going for runs with his dad. Bo (whose name sounds like a Home and Away heartthrob, don’tchathink?) is also the only little guy I know who could still make the bitches swoon wearing a multicoloured floral lei. And – oh my God! – look at his thick, curly hair and little tongue and floppy ears and the way his fur wiggles when he runs. He’s so cute!

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Celebrity Mind Raid: Ed Sheeran

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Last night was, as my close friends in the grime scene say, “A LOT” (shout out to Tinie!). Ya boy Ed was on a wave like I was riding on the crest of a Japanese tsunami (no offence intended to my fans if you or anyone you know has ever been affected by a tsunami). I bagged a couple gongs, sang a little song, wrestled my way through the press throng, went home and smoked a bong – nothing long.

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I hate Jamie Oliver

the saviour jamie oliver

Do you see that ominous, fleshy shadow on the horizon, bulging like an elephantine balloon full of half-digested cheesy-chips and flat Coca-Cola? That, my friends, is something called obesity, and one day soon it’s going to kill us all. We have one chance to avert this impending, chocolate-milkshake flavoured disaster. His name is Jamie Oliver, and he alone can hold back the tidal wave of mayonnaise that’s about to engulf the world.

This isn’t true. The reality of the situation is that some people are fat because they eat too much and then don’t run anywhere. This is pretty straight-forward. Do we really need a faux-Cockney to tell us this in a condescending tone? No, we really don’t. Here are some more things about the fat-tongued bore that annoy me.

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How to… throw a party

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If you are planning to throw a party, I strongly advise you to follow the below instructions to guarantee a good time is had by all.

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