Now That's What I Call Album Covers... From Hell Volume II

These days album covers are cryptic, artistic even, and don't give you any hint whether the enclosed disc features uplifting spiritual music, repetitive dance rhythms or chemical death metal from a group of Scandinavians who see Tolkein-esque dressing up and shouting as their ticket to no longer being Scandinavian. Oh for the good old days when album covers didn't seek to confuse, merely explain.

Sadly, not everyone is as honest as Mr and Mrs Bongo. Take this next booze soaked artist who keeps his record collection on the floor to leave more space on his wicker work surfaces for his booze. He sits there, probably with no idea where he is or how he came to be there, and strums the guitar his manager put in his hands in a desperate attempt to revive his career. "Jim" said the erstwhile manager, "you're wearing the wrong jeans."

While Jim Jones - with his seamless hat/beard combo - looks dead to the world and probably is, there are some people who take great joy in singing. Here we see a gathering of EXCITED~! people who, having left cousin Jim alone with his booze and his unmended trousers, have come together to sing about how EXCITED~! they are.

But you don't need a large family to praise the lord. This pair have come straight from their jobs in a novelty 19th century themed funeral parlour to let everyone know how thrilled they would be to bring God a drink or sell him a newspaper or scrub his almighty floor.

Music in the past wasn't all dour and grey and people who should've been kept away from microphones. It had its fun side too. This next couple have brought along two friends, the three ugliest jackets in all of creation and one fun packed mantra to ensure you too are swept away with the excitement of the thing and cock your leg like you're about to piss on the piano.

But wait! There's more. If going dancing with Dick and Libby isn't quite your cup of tea then maybe you should consider the possibilities inherent in a God-sanctioned affair with a puppet. Here we see a couple, quite clearly in love, about to proclaim "Amem!" in that way that people do. Luckily for "Erick" he fell for that rare breed - a female ventriloquist. Had he gone all weak at the knees for Keith Harris or Roger deCoursey he would've found himself cast into the fiery pit of hell by that very same God.

If the pleasures of a two foot tall lover who only really comes alive when you put your hand in him aren't really your thang, why not simply take your clothes off to music. Thanks to "Bald" Bill Hagan (and his Trocaderons) you can get naked in front of friends and family.

That's all a lot of fluffy, sexist nonsense of course. But the olden days didn't just pander to men's desires for sexy albums. Oh no - women were more than catered for with such wanton man-candy as Claudar (in what my primitive mono-lingual guess work assumes is a gig recorded at the Holiday Inn).

There is so much in this next cover that makes me want to find this guy and patiently shout "No he doesn't". I know Christianity is based on universal love, helping those less fortunate and earning vast revenues from diminishing fossil fuels while funding global warfare against those countries harbouring their own reserves of fossil fuels, but the name, the hair, the moustache, the bowtie, the shirt, the posture and especially the coat make me think this is one guy Jesus just doesn't like.

So he's a bit delusional, this next project is about as upfront as it is possible to be without your nose taking someone's eye out. Sadly, the small print exposes it as a lie. But still probably worth a punt if you like listening to addicts singing in an unspecified style.

So that is more lies - oh for the clarity of Bongos Bongos Bongos Bongos Bongos Bongos. Don Lonie - a name familiar to us all - is a man who would agree with me. Buoyed by the success of "Don Lonie Talks", he's back with more in...

And finally, proof that Tom Baker, Maureen Lipman, Penfold from Danger Mouse and one of those nutters you see on buses got together an had a child. It is the infamously bland Joyce. Here we see her seductively tell a lucky suitor "Thank you for this lovely rose - I'm sure it will be delicious."