The Pussycat Dolls are hot. Sorry to sound like a sexist and woman-objectifying S.O.B. male, but they are. When they first oozed onto the mainstream's radar a few year's ago I was immediately struck by what an ingenious concept the Dolls were. After all, I've lost count of the number of times I've seen an R&B video* with some diva dancing in front of a bunch of back up dancers and thought; "Wow, those back up dancers look hot. I wish that screeching moron would get out of the shot and stop blocking my view." Dancers will always look more attractive than singers. This is because dancing is bruising, physical work which requires enough food to make you look like you've actually eaten a meal in your life, rather than thrown up everything except the lemon and honey you imbibe to soothe the vocal chords. Real women have curves - remember that!

The Dolls are essentially back-up dancers pushed front and centre. Oh sure, one of them sings lead, but who cares? Do you know her name without googling it? (If you do you are either a very very very sad individual or an aspiring Pussycat Doll - and good luck to you!).

The Dolls: In case you've been locked in an isolation Ward since 1990.

They had one hit which I can hum because of the massive airplay it got when it was released and a new single which I can't remember a note of despite having heard at least seventeen times in the gym. The only thing I can remember about the song is there is a drum-rilled bridge in it, at which point in the video the Dolls proceed to soundlessly gyrate on dodgy-looking scaffolding. It's the best part of the song, really. I can almost picture the scene in the studio when they were recording this track:


Producer: Okay singer Doll! That was great! You can take five now!
Singer Doll: What happens next?
Producer: Well, now I mix in some drum beats for a bit and then we replay the chorus and we're out.
Singer Doll: Don't I have any more lyrics?
Producer: No, this bit of the song is where you and the other Dolls do a dance routine. If you want, we can record you saying "Uh, uh, uh" occasionally, like you've just started having sex.
Singer Doll: But that's not the same as singing.
Producer: Yeah, that's kinda the point - actually that gives me an idea. Note to self: store drumbeats and "uh-uh" track for an extended re-mix later. God, I'm a genius!
Singer Doll: But I though...
Producer: You're done for today, Singer Doll.
Singer Doll: Hey! My name's...
Producer: Yeah, whatever!

The Dolls should be the rule-of-thumb as far as acceptable music for the gym goes. Their video looks like they're instructing an aerobics class and, apart from the drums, everything about it is completely forgettable. They have never tortured me in the gym, the same way Leona Lewis has and Beyonce Knowles is starting to. The also distract TheY Beast for brief periods so he stops yelling at me to go faster and adjusting the speed on the treadmill accordingly. In fact, they should be the model for all R&B bands; drums, gyrating and voices that can meld in to the background and be safely ignored.

Pink could take a leaf out their book - her contribution to the gym's soundtrack is 'So What' which was mildly irritating the first time I heard it. Now I appreciate it as nothing less than a full blown abomination. The lyrics are gash, the structure yawn-worthy and her tin-flecked voice is as head-thumpingly painful as the song's metronomic beat. At one point she even utters the phrase "uh, check my flow!" which, in any right thinking world, would make it legal to fire a bazooka at any speakers this shit is blaring out of.

However, my true hatred of this song was cast in iron by The Beast's decision to work in tandem with this song to ensure my maximum humilation at the end of our last session. After my umpteenth six-minute stretch on the cross trainer, we retired to the mats for star jumps and spot jumps - which just so happened to coincide with Pink's horrible single blaring out of the speakers. With no concious thought, I started to jump in time to the horrible song, much to the amusement of several onlookers in the vicinity. To give them credit, they only started laughing out loud when The Beast started hopping around me with a maniacal smile on his face, punching the air and chanting "yeah!" and "check his flow!" at timely intervals.

When the star jumps were over, he grinned at me.

"Thank you for coming down to the auditions," he said. "I'm afraid we've filled up all the spots for back up dancers for Pink's next video, but we'll keep your details on file and we'll certainly give you a call if something comes up... like a Coke Zero commercial, or something!"