We are all doomed

After my post here about the abomination that is Mark Ronson (scroll down a bit), it is with a crushing, deeply depressing inevitability that I could only watch, powerless, as the man scooped best British male at the unwatchable debacle that is the Brit Awards tonight. So there you have it, people - the future of British music is Mr Ronson and his endlessly irritating karaoke "Versions" which will no doubt haunt me every time I happen to be near the vicinity of a clothes shop / HMV / pub with jukebox / working-man's cafe / [insert random establishment here], especially now that it has the seal of approval that comes with winning an award. Ronson's a serious artist now, you see. The horror, the horror: in the midst of this mediocre wank-fest there followed a "medley" - never a good thing - of him performing a Coldplay tune with his "friends" including Adele and Amy Winehouse, before moving onto "Valerie" and other inoffensive Radio 1-lite nonsense, while simultaneously playing a double-necked guitar, as if you are somehow watching the reincarnation of Jimmy Page. If you want a vision of the future, imagine endless Mark Ronson's stamping on the face of any inventive, interesting music - forever.