You might recall me giving out about Madonna's crotch on several occasions - it being heavily featured on the cover of 'Hard Candy' being my main gripe. Well, anyone in possession of the album must've had a massive laugh at my expense 'cause I was COMPLETELY unaware of the image emblazoned on the back. I'm unable to find any pictures of it on the net (a blessing, really) but - if you're have a massively masochistic day - I would recommend you slope into a record shop, pick up a copy and flip it over. You will be greeted with the sight of a 50-year-old rigorously inspecting herself. Seriously, she's examining whether it's time for another outing to the beauticians. Savage. It made me recall a conversation with a lovely guy called Ronan. He was saying he was a bit of a fan, I asked 'why?' and, before he could answer, a tirade of abuse burst out of my head along the lines of - "all she's really good at is pushing herself. She's just SO pushy!" and "She can't sing, certainly not live, and she's only OK at actual dancing - being able to bend 25 different ways doesn't really count - which is basically why she's resorted to getting her bits out for the last two decades!" I think it ended with "In short, if it wasn't for the slew of producers hanging around her she'd be rightly rogered"... Ronan looked little shocked. Was I out of line?

At least she pays homage to said producers, saying at her 'secret' New York gig in the Roseland Ballroom on Wednesday night: "I feel like the luckiest (50-year-old) girl in the world to have made a record with Justin, Timbaland, Pharrell and Kanye West." She wheeled out Justin midway through her set (of six songs) for '4 Minutes' - the approximate length of time she spent humping his leg onstage. I wonder what went through his head; "man, my job's weird, I've got someone twice my age riding my thigh" or "I'm the king of the world!" Luckily for him, she was fully clothed at the time. In fact, lucky for the audience too - as she took to the stage with her right leg hiked up over the arm of the throne she was perched on. And the crowd went crazy... Hey, maybe her coochie emits some kind've pheromone that whips all that encounter it into a deranged frenzy. Maybe that's why Guy Ritchie's career went to pot and is only getting back on track now (his new Nike ad is good, though one could argue that directors should move from adverts to films and not the other way round) since they've stopped having sex...

Well, one thing's for certain - her crotch clearly turns me into a babbling mad yoke.