Now That's What I Call Album Covers... From Hell Volume 4

Generally I try to avoid album covers which are too obviously trying to be wacky. They tend to be far too irritating - a little whimsy is good, a coach load of unaware ugliness is fantastic, a complete lack of artistic ability is a given. But deliberate whackiness (for the H is permissible) is tedious. I make but one exception and that is for a cat wearing a hat and smoking.

There may have been a trace of irony in the cat picture but this Germanic cover can only be absolutely genuinely straight down the middle. He's even written a nice little message for his mother. At least I can only assume it is to his mother as no one else would buy an album promising that a man who looks like Mick McManus has donned leather shorts and is about to disturb the peace in a quiet little lakeside village by brandishing his organ.

Amazingly, the chap in his tight leather shorts is the most manly person we're going to see for a while. Back in the olden days, "Devastatin' Dave" probably thought he was as butch and macho as a feminist author but now we see him for what he is - a rather sad man called David who has a mullet, a pair of gloves, some leather trousers and not quite enough ball-juice to grow a proper moustache. And what the hell is a "turntable slave"? This man spent his nights watching CHIPS and masturbating over "The Hitman and Her" (or watching the Hitman and Her and masturbating over CHIPS - either will do).

That was a mildly gaysexualist cover but it is by no means the most gaysexualist album cover ever spawned. Oh no, there are plenty more. We start with this subtle portrayal of the love between two moustachioed men who must hide their affection beneath manly hand-grappling.

That was just a bit of hand-holding and eye-gazing. This next one his being dry humped by Bernie Winters. I know which I'd prefer.

Oh oh oh - take this next one away. Where you take it and what you do with it is entirely up to you but it is just all together too much for me. I mean what were they thinking? It's like the nineteen eighties woke up one morning and felt the need to cross breed the Village People and the World Wrestling Federation.

IT GETS WORSE~!

I demand an end to homoerotic artwork. I want something wholesome and spiritual, preferably with a nice assortment of ill-chosen clothes, a slightly inbred face and a cheery title in a big, bold font which unfortunately makes a couple of the letters look like other letters, thereby creating a nonsense word which we can laugh at. Oh, and I insist that the singer doesn't have a suggestive name which makes him sound like a gay porn star.

So near and yet so far.

Enough of man love. Let's get back to some good old fashioned heterosexual romance. Such as this tender story of a middle aged predator who has groomed this happy young girl until now she is legal.

Possibly that man is her uncle and the liaison would bring forth offspring to make their isolated little village proud. People like these.

I'm not going to say anything about this next cover. See if you can spot the reason why it found its way onto an internet site specialising in unusual cover art.

And finally, nothing says "Christmas!" like breaded chicken scrapings served in a bucket so why not celebrate the special day in the company of everyone's favourite fast food uncle and all round Rolf Harris lookalike, Colonel Sanders.

And with that I'm confident that this album cover lark has finally been put to rest.