Have a Bon Day

It is often said that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. Not it would seem if you're a billionaire rock star with a global herd of fans, all blissfully ignorant to the fact that you've been sleepwalking through your last five albums, and who even merrily trotted to the shops when you decided your own songs were so great that you would record them all over again on an album of self-congratulatory covers ['Bon Jovi Threaten Legal Action Against Tribute Band'].


The reason I bring this up is the depressingly low esteem that they must hold their fans. After all, they are apparently so off-the-ball that they will look at a group of ladies standing beneath a different bandname and think they are in fact the tired bunch of denim-clad New Jersey escapees that they have worshipped since Tommy and Gina first held on to what-they-got, simply because they are singing the same songs.
With different voices.
And different faces.
And with uteruses.
I suppose they think Hercule Poirot would have had difficulty picking out members of Depeche Mode from The Saturdays, and giving the slightest consideration to separating the members of Aerosmith and Run DMC from Girls Aloud and Sugababes would be enough for him to topple from his fictional perch. Perhaps this is why Kylie Minogue has never covered Ace of Spades.