Ugh. It's enough. Someone throw a brown raincoat over that dayglo pink leotard before I fuckin' barf. As if it's not enough that Madonna's music is hideous throwback eighties shite, but I have to witness that white, flabby, 50-year old butt jiggling around like a recently-set jelly in a Cessna during a rainstorm. Totally fucking ridiculous. Paying homage to the eighties is pathetic enough, but paying homage to yourself in the eighties is cringeworthy. There should be a law preventing such reruns of bad taste, especially by the same person. Go home, grandma, or put some clothes on. At your age, it's usually a dressing gown and a colostomy bag. There are millions of extraordinarily cute, pert young things just desperate to pop out their titties while lip-synching under a rain machine in a music video, but she's gotta buy her doughy way onto M-TV every ten minutes. And they let her. You can't watch an hour of music television without being blighted by the sight of her pink panties creeping their way up into her varicosed vulva for the least sexy camel toe ever photographed by man.

She who lives by the boobie dies by the boobie, I believe the phrase goes. It's fine, you can get all the attention you desire while you're young and cute, don't develop any meaningfull skills, always skate by on being 'the cute one'. It's fair enough in a society that rewards beauty to such an extent that people will poison themselves to possess it. But when those breasts start to sag and you get a second bum, you'll just have to fuck off. We don't care about you any more, and now that we're no longer fascinated by your nipples, we'll notice that your hideous retread music is nothing more than the same shite you were making twenty years ago. Or so I'm hoping. But leave it to you bunch of twats to make her more famous now than she was a decade ago. If you were thinking of owning a Madonna album, or own one already, you are hereby officially charged with contravening the Fucking Talentless Cunt Who Thinks She's Spiritual But Should Really Just Be Kicked In The Throat Non-Proliferation Treaty. Since you're obviously curious about it, it's a Treaty between ourselves and Iceland. We don't promote Madonna, they've promised to cover Björk with quicklime before 2008.

Madonna is a master, it's true, but only a master of picking up on and exploiting trends. Like some kind of artistic vampire, she decends on young talent — promising everlasting fame and adulation — and sucks them dry. Then, like poor William Orbit, their husks are discarded in favour of sexier, more contemporary talent. Which is why Madonna's rehashed shite always has the freshest beat and hottest production: to producers, an invitation to Maverick Records to see Madonna must have the same ring to it as being summoned to Carfax Abbey in the middle of the night. Her much-publicised snog with Britney (Only Radical Beheading Can Possibly Save Us Now) Spears at the 2003 Grammys was the limp act of a lame and aged circus monkey, desparate to grind that barrel organ one more time for handfulls of popcorn from the crowd. Little Britney should've been more careful, for now she too has been added to Maddy's unholy coven of young talent (see the undeniably crap 'Me Against the Music'). Let's not forget the painfully staged snog on national television. Britney has said that the idea was Madonna's, and I'm thinking I'm so fucking surprised — she's an aging has-been who is so desparate and lonely that has to live off the hype and popularity surrounding former Mousekateers. And, by the way, fuck you Christina Aguilera, you talentless imitation of a prostitute with OCD.

But back to Madge. She's gotten so obsessed with herself that you can no longer even call her Madonna. Since going all Jewish and tying forget-me-not bows around her fingers , she's now Esther. In the Madonna handbook of fad surfing and reinvention, it says that round about 48, a good religious conversion will help sales and attract new audience members. Which just means now that she's sucked the Catholic religion dry, Jews will have to put up with Madonna Hannukah songs for the next 20 years. Good luck, guys. You're gonna need it. You thought a couple of Germans with a pottery kiln was bad? Just wait until you're subjected to Like A Dreidel or Ray of Light (Teffilin Remix) or Papa Don't Keep Kosher a million times.

Since we're on the topic of things that scare the bejesus out of me, what the fuck is that thing that Vodacom have chosen as their current corporate mascot? Is it a deformed ferret? Some kind of starving Biafran child with skinny arms and a giant head and a thousand pet flies? It's downright disturbing, and this is coming from someone who would label Make Them Die Slowly as a romantic comedy. I have to avert my damn eyes every time those malnourished bug-out eyes, burnt-off stump of a nose and pot-belly show up on my screen, lest I be reminded of Etheopian refugees from the 80s. I pity the poor fuckers who have to wear a replica of that suit at sports events. I mean, who wants to paid to go around looking like an inbred aborted foetus? Oh wait, Mary-Kate and Ashley Olson. Silly me.