Kevin Clooney

I was at the Grammies in Los Angeles on Monday night. I was stage-side working for the monitor mix fellow, Ivan. Did you see Chris Martin wave at me when he accepted the award?

It was brilliant to see the British doing so well again – showing the boring American artists how to do it. We did pretty well last year, too, what with the Amy Winehouse success and everything.

Can’t say I really like Coldplay but I was pleased they won song of the year for Vida La Viva as me and my Donna reckon it’s not half a bad little tune, what with the marching band in there and everything. I like songs with marching band in them, adds a sort of je ne say trois, if you know what I mean.

The thing about Coldplay that really annoys me – apart form Chris Martin’s affected singing style, of course - is their idiot guitarist Jonny Buckland who always looks like he’s in terrible pain when he’s playing a solo.

He probably saw some black blues musician do it and though it looked cool. Even so, if the electric guitar was as hard to play as he makes it look, no one would ever take it up in the first place.

I’m just reading here on Coldplay’s website that miserable singer Chris Martin thinks that Obama winning the US presidential election was ‘a great great great great great day - everything’s alright with the world again, especially now that our tour is going really really really really really well in America.’

You’d think Martin would have been rooting for the republicans, wouldn’t you - what with him being a rich Conservative landowner and everything. He once told me he was going to vote for David Cameron at the next general election in the UK.

And The Strokes bassist Nikolai Fraiture apparently told his wife, Regina Spektor, that ‘It feels like finally being freed after having spent many years in prison.’ Well I reckon her dad, Phil Spektor, will be able to tell them what that feels like soon enough.

My Donna likes his hair. I sometimes think she’s pulling my plonker, I really do.

My Donna has just shown me an article in one of her girly magazines about Madonna taking time out and resting in New York with her best friend Gwyneth Paltrow; apparently, the stress of the past month is taking its toll on the queen of pop what with her hectic touring schedule and her divorce from Guy Ritchie and everything.

I’ve met Gwyneth Paltrow a few times when I’ve been working for miserable guitar band Coldplay. The band’s frontman and Paltrow’s paramour Chris Martin is a nice enough chap but his American wife always seemed a bit ignorant and rude to me. Could be because I’m just a lowly roadie and not a glamorous singer in an internationally successful rock band - who knows?

Once, my Donna was chatting to Paltrow backstage, showing her the new nails she’d just had done and Gwyneth didn’t show even the slightest interest; my Donna was really offended. ‘She only wanted to talk about Madonna,’ she told me afterwards, ‘She just wasn’t bothered about my nails - just kept going on and on about her famous friend.’

I took my Donna out for a slap-up curry in my favourite Indian restaurant in Stepney after the show. That cheered her up no end.

I enjoyed Wednesday night working for the Ting Tings at the Sheperds Bush Empire in London.

As usual they put on a really good show. The weird drummer bloke was as grumpy as he always is but the audience of spotty youths and Katie White wannabe teenage girls seemed to really enjoy themselves.

Would you believe it . . . backstage, who should I bump into but miserable Coldplay frontman Chris Martin who was trying to sneak out of Katie’s dressing room dressed as one of the catering staff. ‘Oi, Martin! What you doing in there, you dirty old man?’ I yelled at him but he pretended not to hear me.

I reckon he’s got something going on with the gorgeous Katie, I do. Wait till I tell my Donna! She’s well pally with Gwyneth Paltrow is my Donna and not very good at keeping secrets. And I should know: she can’t help telling Filthy Rik and all my other roadie mates about my personal problems - especially when I’ve had too much Guinness and can’t, you know, perform. (My manly duties in the bedroom.) Women.

My best mate and fellow professional roadie Filthy Rik has just been telling me about his upcoming gigs with the Kaiser Chiefs in the UK in October.

I’m really envious because I like the band, and having worked with them before, I know they pay really well - better than bloody Coldplay, anyway, who are crap.

I like the Kaisers’ new single Never Miss The Beat which reminds me of Bill Nelson and Be-Bop Deluxe for some reason. I reckon they’d sell a lot more records though if the singer stopped dressing up as a schoolboy. Weird he is, that one. He’s from Yorkshire so that explains a lot.

Filthy Rik often imbibes too much when he’s doing indie band gigs - he gets too excited, bless him - so I’m hoping he’ll get sacked and I can step in and deputise.

Deputy Kev. I like the sound of that.