Get cape, wear cape, fall over

As good as it is to see Kasabian getting some stick for being tedious say-nothing tossers (especially after Serge Pizzorno, evidently nettled at not getting a nomination, had the nerve to brand others as boring), I'm not sure why Tim Jonze really bothered to get all hot under the collar about the blandness of the Brits, unless he was commissioned to do so at gunpoint.

The Brits are nothing but a pointless, nauseatingly extravagant backslapfest at which the industry celebrates its own cash cows, awarding gongs to the best sellers of today and those who have been earmarked to become best sellers of tomorrow. If you're looking for artistic merit, risk-taking and innovation, you're in the wrong place. Anyone with any sense - like Jonze, you'd hope - wouldn't waste energy bemoaning this state of affairs and instead just get stuck into promoting acts who really do deserve acclaim and wider attention. The rest of us said "Not in my name", shrugged and moved on a long time ago.

For those who did sit through the whole shebang (not me - I had better things to do, like repeatedly firing a nailgun into my forehead), at least Madonna's balance malfunction will have provided a brief moment of unPhotoshopped, unautotuned, unchoreographed, unscripted entertainment. Presumably in future she'll be leaving cape-wearing to Rick Wakeman.