Justin Timberlake

I know what you're wondering: If this album were a song by Carter USM, which would it be? The answer, of course, is 'Lenny and Terence'.

And I know what else you're wondering: Is Justin Timberlake still stalking you? The answer, of course, is yes.

I got up this morning and who should I find slumped against my front door, but the squeaky-voiced popster himself. His pleas that he'd been out with The Neptunes and that he thought that this was Chad Hugo's house fell on deaf ears and I sent him on his way.

Earlier in the week I'd been idly wondering whether it was time to prune my Buddleja in the back garden, when he'd appeared over the back fence. He then strung a load of his own song titles together in a bid to impress me. He said:

"'What You Got' 'Last Night' is 'Still On My Brain'. 'Rock Your Body'. 'Take Me Now', 'Take It From Here' 'Like I Love You'."

I replied in kind:

"'Cry Me A River'. 'Nothin' Else'."

At which point I retrieved my pilfered secateurs from his limp grip and told him to fuck off.

Justin Timberlake - Future Sex

"I'm a tiny, fey, inconsequential little munchkin. I've had the last vestiges of independent thought groomed out of me by record company oppressors. My hair is short and neat. My sexuality is overt but non-threatening. I'm fun, sensitive, definitely hetero, but maybe a bit gay and I sing like a woman."

That's what Justin Timberlake says to me.

No, literally. Get off the fucking phone, Justin. I'm trying to work. I know. I know how you see yourself. Leave me alone. Stop stalking me. Who do you think I am? A fourteen-year-old groupie? I'm not. I'm a man in a cardigan looking forward to a pint of real ale. I'm not your type.

Future Sex is all about the sex. It's all about the sex and a little bit about the love, but mostly it's about the sex. He's like one of those lonely leg-loving dogs, our Justin.

Track one, 'Futuresex/Lovesound' - both sex and love. Track two, 'Sexyback' - just sex. Track three, 'Sexy Ladies/Let Me Talk to You (Prelude)' - just sex again, maybe with a little bit of talking. Mercifully, he's found the space bar by track three, at least. Stop blending words into one, you manicured marmoset.

Justin Timberlake appears to be playing football with a goldfish bowl on the cover. Go on. Head it, you idiot.