RnB

What with xlgf being a distant memory, I have returned to that most marvelous of totally time wasting pastimes, the internet "dating" site.

Of course, this type of site, and the majority of those that use them, have as much to do with dating as cow dung has to do with salad. But this is not my point tonight. My point is music.

Now, you may be wondering how I am going to meander my way from dating sites to music? Well, it's simple. On the site that I use most, there is a field the user (we shall call them the "prospective shag") can complete entitled "favourite music". Almost invariably in the case of the women I have looked at, this field contains three letters: rnb. Or a variant thereof (they're not too good at spelling, some of these young ladies. Worryingly so in some cases...)

If "rnb" referred to the classic rhythm and blues of the past, the kind of stuff that everybody knows from the likes of the Blues Brothers, this would be a good thing. The Who, after all, initially billed themselves as "maximum R'n'B" and indeed they were pretty much just that.

Sadly of course, they don't mean that at all. No, what they actually mean is the sort of sub-Whitney Houston crap that is so beloved of chavs everywhere, because they don't have to think about it. When I was younger it was called "soul" music and the chief protagonists were Luther Vandross et al. Clearly, even the pillocks that market this stuff have had a moment of conscience and decided that as there is no soul whatsoever in their plastic computer generated pap they needed to change the name. But "r'n'b"? No.

R'n'B, for those that don't know, stands for rhythm and blues. Some wobbly voiced pouty lipped woman singing a dirge to a music-by-numbers manufactured "tune" is not rhythm and blues. Change the name. Please!