As you are fully aware, the original snivelling bedwetters, Coldplay, have returned to cast a dark shadow over musical integrity and taste, and oh boy are we lapping it up.

There are literally millions of people who don’t actually like music getting all excited about that one gig a year they go to, and seeing as Robbie has gone all weird and that with his electro, there’s only one band for you, yes, that’s right…Cold-fuckin-PLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLAY, wooo, alright.

Sorry, I got off on the wrong note. Having listened to their recently released fourth long player; ‘Viva la vida’, as with all Coldplay albums, there’s one or two pretty good tracks; ‘White shadows’ and ‘Speed of Sound’ from their last album ‘X & Y are both astounding equally, ‘Lost!’, ‘ 42’ and in particular, and the shoegazy ‘Yes’ on their latest are just as good.

Unfortunately, as with all Coldplay albums, it is awash with Daily Mail reader loving dross, creatively inept whilst being a massive paradox of being hugely smug, self satisfied AND self pitying at the same time.

The worst offender being the title track, have you heard it? Of course you have, it has been spoon fed to people who were disappointed with lovely James Blunts’ second album after the highs he reached with his lovely debut and that lovely song that was number one for lovely ages.

Also, in a move of mass globalisation on a scale so crass Starbucks hold weekly meetings to see what’s going wrong for them, it has been on TV constantly in an advert which was equally promoting Coldplay, ipods and expensive hair products for nice English hair.

With its chorus of “I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing, Roman Catholic choirs are singing” backed with vomit-inducing, swooning, orchestral backing which is so over the top, with its uplifting, swirling strings and some bollocks about revolutions you’ll be addressing Mr Armitage within ten seconds of its sorry commencement. A song so religious in if not just lyrics but also sound, Cliff Richard is preparing a comeback thinking that for some unexplainable reason he’s become relevant again.

I don’t know what the video is like but I wish it features happy campaigning Mormons jumping in slow motion over the grassy fields of Surrey with their blonde brats Peter and Emily, all hand in hand with their folks, Mr and Mrs Cheese & Branston pickle on good old fashioned English bread, none of that fancy foreign stuff or with seeds in – Smith.

The British mainstream is incapable of looking for anything beyond the tip of their nose, buying a Coldplay CD is the equivalent of creaming loads of cash down your ethical coffee company on a daily basis, or sitting in on a Saturday night because Ant & Dec are on. Fight it, don’t do it!

What happened to sexy bands? Dirty bands? Dangerous bands and bands effortlessly cool looking such as Blur? This song is a level so low Natasha Bedingfield is thinking of covering it to top the lyrical atrocities of bizarre man-stalking anthem ‘I want to have your babies.’ By the end of this song, Natasha is so desperate to get up the duff to create her twenty-second heavenly blonde haired, blue eyed Aryan vision of perfection within a three and a half minute Pop nugget that she is literally stealing sex off the poor bastard it’s about.

Having said all that, again, there’s some alright tracks on the album but that’s not for here.

Chris Todd