I love Mary J Blige with every fibre of my being, if indeed my being has fibres because surely one’s being is an intangible thing and is therefore fibreless? Normally MJB  (I almost got her initials tattooed on my butt when I turned 40, such is my love for her, but thought it might be awkward if she was ever implicated in any Operation Yewtree style scandal so I plumped for a shooting star instead, which, as my skin has stretched and shrank with yoyo dieting over the years looks like somebody’s stuck their thumb in an inkpad then jabbed it on my arse) rips my heart out and chews it up when she sings but I’m struggling to see what she brought to the party here in terms of added value apart from interjecting lovely Sam “voice of an angel” Smith’s lovely singing with the occasional “oh yeahhhh” and  “mmmm hmmmm” and to warble up and down the scales a bit. Amiright? See for yourself. 


I’m also annoyed by Taylor Swift’s  “nine time Grammy winner”. Nine TIMES Grammy winner, Taylor. Nine TIMES. 

Jesus. You people.