Kanye wants his subjects to stand. You want them to kneel.

Douche bags call each other Kanye West.

The crowd are almost as disgusting as the 'performer'. They deserve each other.

We get it, we get it. You're an existential realist, otherwise known as a lofty grump and anything to do with other people's emotions, especially the warm, sappy ones that, oh yes, we all harbour, is just cheap sentiment and must be snarked and sneered at.

Nurse! The screens!

The last thing that thing was was a musical.

Babe 2: Pig in the City. I'd loved the first one and persuaded my father to watch the sequel (vastly underrated by the way).

How much weed WERE you smoking?

And you don't.

Try Insomnia sometime if you liked One Hour Photo. A performance totally without vanity, no movie star peeking from behind the repulsive character to reassure you he's there's and a delight.

On dear. Unbidden tears trickling down my face almost the entire time I was reading this.

For shame, for shame.

Does 'We Are Family' qualify?

Band on The Run, Wings.

Billy Joel, 'It's Still Rock an Roll to Me'.

Abba, 'Thank You For The Music'.

James Brown, 'Papa's Got a Brand New Bag' to announce a swerve in career direction.

Unfortunately.

Or Plastic Bertrand's 'Ça plane pour moi' if we're being delightfully silly.

Great song, great band.