Let's get ready to grumble. I'll admit to previously having a somewhat morbid fascination with N-Dubz. Like watching a car crash. Everytime Dappy and pals were on TV I would be immediately reminded of Chris Morris' spoof rapper 'Fur-Q'. I could not believe they weren't some elaborate postmodern prank. But make no mistake, chuckling ceased the moment I witnessed the full N-Dubz experience. How can I put it? N-Dubz Against All Odds is without a shadow of a doubt the single most depressing album I have ever heard. In a breakbeat it makes Joy Division sound like The Wurzels.

It's not the music. The music itself is (disappointingly) incredibly bland. I was at least hoping it would be hysterically awful. But no, the fourteen (count your blessings) tracks are factory line identical. To start, take a Eurobeat version of the Casualty theme (it translates as “Dramatic” in moron) and stir in a dash of tinkly piano for that “Eminem touch”. Then, slice and dice some bro / ho trash talk and we're done. Oh yeah, another thing the male vocalist should at least drop one “aaiiieee” for every three lines, that is seemingly crucial. (I must offer 'mad props' though for the gut-bustingly camp axe solo on Playing With Fire. Exquisite!).

But no it's not the music which has me head-in-hands and teary eyed. It's the fact that this generation (luckily not my generation) has elected the dumbest band in history to represent them. Not even comedy dumb - offensively dumb. Depressingly dumb. If the youth of today elect N-Dubz as their spokesmen, their voice, they are truly, truly fucked. Don't believe me? Walk. This. Way.

N-Dubz play their outsider card straight out of the gate, “us against the world, no one wanted to know...now they want to come and clap at my show”. So far, so rebel cliché. Tick the box. From there on we're treated to one vile, delusional set piece after another. Take Say It's Over in which our “hero” confides that he's “had enough of fucking girls and coming back to you later” and he's “sick of having to delete everything in my pager”. Poor love, you can really feel his pain can't you? My heart goes out to him, “If only you knew that every time I'm fucking you I'm thinking of someone else...why should I feel guilty?...It's the same old shit she never gives me any space”. I feel you brother, damn those beyatches and their emotional baggage. Ladies, form an orderly queue please...



...but no! The “ladies” - as represented by vocalist Tulisa (oooh aren't you lucky ladies?) - can't get enough of these ker-azy guys. Even when your fella boasts of “being on some Alfie behaviour” you just apologetically giggle and confess in a girlie voice “I can't help but check his text while he's passed out”. Passed out obviously from LOADS of MANLY shagging. Oh those cheeky Alfie types (wags finger) “when those lights come on and what's her name is gone”. It's the golden age of romance f'sure.

Then there's the mysteriously titled Na Na. A thought provoking insight into the machinations of political corruption and the collapse of the global monetary system? No, it's about “snitches” and “plonkers”. Dappy begins in sensitive reflection “Yo I am a rapper slash nang singer songwriter” but that doesn't make him a Nancy no siree, “Last man to put his hands on my chain found himself in a scarred all greazy nananizle”. OK, OK, Dappy you're street tuff just like Rebel MC! “If you've got your own whip and earning paper, then you have the right to be a heartbreaker”. Well, obviously it goes without saying. Na Na does however include the in-no-way hilarious announcement....“Sex after dinner, I'm a wheeler dealer”. Put down your pen Bob Dylan, take a hike “Billy” Shakespeare, this guy's got you all in check. He's cooking MC's like a pound of bacon. Sex on a full stomach? Pah! Dappy's gonna brush aside those McDonalds boxes and show you lovin'...

...oh, but if you gets up the duff, well it's your problem. Check out the sex clause on Shoulda Put Something On, “you weren't saying shit when I was gripping on your pelvis”. Ain't that the truth, now quit bothering him. Flip that script! Social commentary? N-Dubz deliverin', aiieeettt.

But the fun doesn't stop there. The absolute pinnacle of N-Dubz class, integrity and intelligence is displayed on the thought provoking, sensitive Duku Man Skit. You might want to be sitting down for this. Ready? “I'm on a spanking ting, it's not a wanking ting...I'm surprised that he never done a poo-poo....give her willy, tell her bye, then wink”. Oh and Dappy wants you to know “your mixtape stinks like a fart”. N-Dubz...I am speechless. Words fail me. You have won. Believe me, you have won.

Many war veterans return from conflict with what is dubbed the “thousand yard stare”. Soldiers forever haunted by the unspeakable horrors witnessed in combat. Dear reader, I am now accurs'd with this “thousand yard stare”. But mine's more of a “thousand-and-one yard stare”. Y'know, one longer. After you've been touched by N-Dubz, life will never, ever be the same again. To paraphrase Nina Simone, it's a new day, a new dawn...and I'm feeling sad.

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