James : I know what I’m here for

This is not interesting. It's just silly.

Once again, Tim Booth‘s oddly immaculate self-belief leaves everyone else shaking their heads more in annoyance than sorrow. [I]”Follow follow me”[/I], he yelps on their latest comeback


clearly unaware that most people would rather pursue Ainsley Harriott into hell or dance over a cliff to the piping of Prince Edward than choose him as a leader.

Booth has always been a poor messiah, and this laser-guided irritation D a bouncy dance-pop monster that keeps a picture of Jesus Jones in a locket round its neck D isn’t going to update his tedious gospel. James would still love to be


as Britain’s REM, but while Stipe, if a charlatan, is a brilliant and elusive one, Booth is just blatant. If he


a villain, he’d be twirling his moustache. If he was a cat burglar, he’d be in the stripy shirt and bag marked ‘swag’. As it is, he’s the pop star, and he’s the one decked out in the self-satisfaction and the triumphalist vocal confidence. This is not interesting.


just silly.

Sorry. But he’s not the only one who knows what he’s here for.