‘Dancing With Sperm, Shrouded Like The Blob, Holding Her Bladder’

  • For the first few minutes, it was impossible to understand a word she was singing – well, shouting, really. Then, slowly emerging from the terrible throbbing racket of incessant thumping beats, a few of her hits were discernible, including the dreadful We Found Love in a Hopeless Place, whose repetitive lyrics were dredged from an even more hopeless place: a verbal wasteland that is the linguistic nadir of pop.
  • The baby bump did nothing to explain what should have been called the halftime masturbation show.
  • From the moment Rihanna gyrated her crotch – the only bit of her that seemed willing to move, we knew what we were in for. Certainly not a show for an audience of well over 100 million in the US alone, nor a show suited for family viewing and younger kids.