There comes a time in most people’s lives when they realise they’re a terrible person, and for many, this occurred when a chorus of BRITs watchers declared in unison: “Thank fuck she fell,” Madonna’s cape mishap being the only real talking point of a fairly dreary ceremony that had as much fuel as Kanye’s broken flamethrower. This was the overriding conclusion of last night’s bash, a sentiment shared by thousands. But peer a little closer into the inner workings of 2015’s BRITs, and ridiculous happenings peer through the cracks.
Unenlightening lessons from the awards: People who sell a lot of records get rewarded accordingly; George Ezra has trouble remembering his own name; it’s really hard to like Take That what with the whole tax-dodging thing. But DIY drew lessons of its own from last night’s BRITs, things we’ll keep in mind until next year, when inevitably the memory refreshes and we all forget about Ant and Dec’s tragic bingo wheel.
Madonna’s a true Material Hurl
Anyone could have been forgiven for giving a quick yawn at about ten past ten last night before popping into the kitchen to make a hot chocolate. Lets be honest here, most of us didn’t expect anything especially groundbreaking from Madge’s grand finale. It’s been ages since she got a ticking off from Canada for being risqué on her Blond Ambition tour in 1990, and rocking up with a few horns and a carefully ironed Armani cape, it appeared to be business as usual.
What unfolded next in wide-eyed ‘oh-my-god-is-this-actually-happening?!’ slow-motion was totally unprecedented. We can see it now in freeze-frame; Madonna struggling with her cape fastening, and the look of sheer panic on her face as she delivers the ever so ironic line “I let down my guard…”. Her still-attached cape being yanked, and poor Madonna thudding down at least three stairs, and landing with a mic-echoing thud, prompting gasps across living rooms worldwide. Leave the ageist jibes at home, though, because that woman landed with the agile poise of Lara Croft and barely missed a beat. “Now that it’s over, I’m going to carry on,” she continued, pulling it back and becoming an internet sensation in the process. We’re still waiting for a report on the well-being of the backing dancer who pulled her over, however. [El Hunt]
Everyone is Taylor Swift’s best friend
Forget all that award stuff going on - last night was basically like an episode of Paris Hilton’s British Best Friend starring Taylor Swift instead. Here’s a quick tally. Karlie Kloss and Ellie Goulding both informed the world gleefully that Taylor is their best friend. Rita Ora probably did as well, but the cameras didn’t catch it. In turn Taylor gushed about Cara Delevingne, Ellie Goulding, and Sam Smith, as well as ultimate BFFL Ed Sheeran. Strangely enough Taylor didn’t remember to give a bezzie shout-out to Kanye, despite being such good pals that they’ve even shared acceptance speeches in the past. [El Hunt]
Sinitta lives life in a parallel universe
Oh bless sweet Sinitta, the 80s pop star turned official boot camp wingwoman of Simon Cowell. At The BRITs last night she was having an uproarious time messing about with her brand new touchscreen telephone and taking selfies. The one she selected for her twitter feed took more than a hint of influence from Dot Cotton’s police car shot from the recent live episode of Eastenders. Very on the pulse. Less up to date with current affairs - or indeed reality in general - Sinitta’s night peaked when her new favourite band Royal Bandits scooped the Best Band. Perhaps she was referring to Gary Barlow’s tax-dodging, or maybe years of enduring bands with stupid names like Union J and Kingsland Road has taken its toll. We actually suspect that Sinitta lives in a parallel universe, and when Madonna fell over later that night she mistook her for Rita Ora’s plummeting career. [El Hunt]
Geoff is the ultimate rebel
Nobody quite grasps the difference between George Ezra and his dastardly alter-ego, Geoff. Loving fans question his intentions on Twitter, and even the most in-the-know Ezra-ites have trouble drawing the line between the two characters. The BRITs revealed all, however.
Sat at a table with fellow rebels Royal Blood and Alt-J, as Ant and Dec’s witty #tablebanter found its last dregs, there sat Geoff - indisputably Geoff, not George, no way - necking a can of Red Stripe, aka the beer the BRITs definitely didn’t provide to guests. Chances are, post his performance of ‘Budapest’, George morphed into his Mr. Hyde, legging it to the corner shop to purchase a four pack. Nobody messes with Geoff - not even a bucket-full of free beer bottles. This was his time to shine. You half expected him to channel Alex Turner’s “that rock and roll, eh”, after being caught on camera guzzling the Jamaican juice. Once a maverick, always a maverick. [Jamie Milton]
It was a night for saucy warblers
During our desperate, please-give-us-something-to-talk-about live coverage of the BRITs (which started at 4pm, way before Kanye got peckish for Nando’s), we resorted to a poll. This wasn’t a traditional awards season question, some meaningless “who’s gonna win” round-robin - no, this was asking a question far more crucial than whether all of Madonna’s entourage will be jobless for a lifetime.
The question: Who is the best saucy warbler of all? Who warbles most prominently and with a saucy aftertaste? Who shuffles saucily into a song while maintaining their warble?
To be honest, Sam Smith was the only real competitor in this category when polls opened. But when the votes were counted (haphazardly, when we realised the live blog was still going an hour after the ceremony had finished), Smith’s saucy warbling legacy took a big blow. Hozier - a man who didn’t appear to be present at The O2 (maybe he asked the cabbie to take him to church by mistake) - won with a colossal 69% of the vote. Fellow saucy warblers Ed Sheeran and Smith had big nights of their own, but it was Hozier who stole the show. [Jamie Milton]
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