Peter Andre singing carols at Spittafields market
Petering out
Fri, 18/12/2009 - 11:24 by Mr. HMPeter Andre's pop career solely relies on the classic PR angle of if you keep saying he's a huge artist for long enough people forget that actually, no-one buys his records (see also: Dixon, Alesha)
Considering he has probably had more column inches printed about him than any other male solo artist this year, it's surely about time that people realise that whilst he seems a nice enough guy, his music is not just pony or gash - it's a pony's gash on the way to the glue factory.
His latest single didn't even break the Top 40 and he's reduced to playing at Spittafields market in front of 100 people in -6°c weather dressed up as Janet Jackson circa Rhythm Nation.
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Comments
I like how his entire career can be summed up with a nonchalent shrug and a mumbled "Well, least he's not Jordan..."
He should just give it up. The horse he's flogging isn't just dead it's crawling with flies. If he needs some dough, there's always mini-cabbing. Lots of fares this time of year. Then there's the airports, weddings...
Well, now that we know where that cuntoid Doherty hangs out, why don't we all go tooled up and take the fucker out? Think of how many Christmasses that will enhance, and if we take out the wrong cunt because s/he's a wannabe looky-likey, then,......... meh
Fame ho!
I smell a stint of club PAs, releasing a cover of "If You Don't Know Me By Now", and becoming a door-to-door salesman...
Rhythm Nation-era Janet Jackson is being generous. I was thinking more of fall-of-the-Berlin-Wall-era David Hasselhoff.
Meryl you truly know how to live the (wanky-self absorbed-cuttingedge) high life
Stella I think it's just along from Felch Square but before you get to Spacedocker Way
Well, yes, in the sense of 'lifestyle statement judged by the nice bland unchallenging playlists on my iPod, which I can listen to whilst ostentatiously drinking my Frappucino in Costa Coffee' kind of way.
You'd think they'd change the name. Is it near Gropecunt Lane?
I prefer the full-on Spitalfields experience of up-your-own-arse trendiness by spending a fortune on the lips and genitals platter at St John Food and Wine
I can't bring myself to go into the Golden Heart, the smell of self-absorbed smug cuntiness always makes me gag. I prefer reputable establishments.......like "Bar Aquarium" :(
There's one cunt who hangs out at the Golden Heart dressed just like Doherty, though looking a bit healthier. I love the way he feigns surprise when the tourists whisper around him and point, because actually he's a photocopier engineer in the middle of an identity crisis.
That fucking barmaid there thinks she's hot shit as well now, thanks to all the publicity. Where is Jack the Ripper when you need him?
It's just up the road from where I work Stella, if you are lucky and you hang out long enough you might get to see Pete Docherty and his spastic smack head entourage.....otherwise you just get to see art-house cockpieces with "flock of seagulls" hairstyles wearing stripy french looking t-shirts, skinny jeans rolled up to just above the ankles, boat shoes and a pair of ironically coloured wayfarer sunglasses riding around on old ladies bicycles.....basically it is a total cunt-fest
Never mind Peter Andre, please explain the giant backing singers in pic 4!
East-ish London
It does!
Liking the fact that the pics have caption(s) but where is this Spittafields place?
You write as if you believe music actually means anything anymore.
You write as if you believe music actually means anything anymore.
Liking the fact that the pics have caption(s) but where is this Spittafields place?
It does!
East-ish London
Never mind Peter Andre, please explain the giant backing singers in pic 4!
It's just up the road from where I work Stella, if you are lucky and you hang out long enough you might get to see Pete Docherty and his spastic smack head entourage.....otherwise you just get to see art-house cockpieces with "flock of seagulls" hairstyles wearing stripy french looking t-shirts, skinny jeans rolled up to just above the ankles, boat shoes and a pair of ironically coloured wayfarer sunglasses riding around on old ladies bicycles.....basically it is a total cunt-fest
There's one cunt who hangs out at the Golden Heart dressed just like Doherty, though looking a bit healthier. I love the way he feigns surprise when the tourists whisper around him and point, because actually he's a photocopier engineer in the middle of an identity crisis.
That fucking barmaid there thinks she's hot shit as well now, thanks to all the publicity. Where is Jack the Ripper when you need him?
I can't bring myself to go into the Golden Heart, the smell of self-absorbed smug cuntiness always makes me gag. I prefer reputable establishments.......like "Bar Aquarium" :(
I prefer the full-on Spitalfields experience of up-your-own-arse trendiness by spending a fortune on the lips and genitals platter at St John Food and Wine
You'd think they'd change the name. Is it near Gropecunt Lane?
Well, yes, in the sense of 'lifestyle statement judged by the nice bland unchallenging playlists on my iPod, which I can listen to whilst ostentatiously drinking my Frappucino in Costa Coffee' kind of way.
Meryl you truly know how to live the (wanky-self absorbed-cuttingedge) high life
Stella I think it's just along from Felch Square but before you get to Spacedocker Way
Rhythm Nation-era Janet Jackson is being generous. I was thinking more of fall-of-the-Berlin-Wall-era David Hasselhoff.
I smell a stint of club PAs, releasing a cover of "If You Don't Know Me By Now", and becoming a door-to-door salesman...
Fame ho!
Well, now that we know where that cuntoid Doherty hangs out, why don't we all go tooled up and take the fucker out? Think of how many Christmasses that will enhance, and if we take out the wrong cunt because s/he's a wannabe looky-likey, then,......... meh
He should just give it up. The horse he's flogging isn't just dead it's crawling with flies. If he needs some dough, there's always mini-cabbing. Lots of fares this time of year. Then there's the airports, weddings...
I like how his entire career can be summed up with a nonchalent shrug and a mumbled "Well, least he's not Jordan..."