This actually started out as a guest post for another blog (LizSara) but, on reflection, it’s a tad too sarcastic to inflict on someone else – she’s on holiday and I didn’t want her to come back to an angry mob bearing virtual pitchforks. So instead, you’re getting it. Sorry peeps, but here goes …

This isn’t something I tell many people, so ssh, keep it to yourself. You see, I have a problem, a dreadful problem. So terrible is my problem, I would be a social outcast if everyone knew. No, I don’t eat kittens for breakfast; I’ve never tripped an old lady in the supermarket in an attempt to get the last packet of crumpets. No Dear Reader, my problem is worse than that: I singularly fail to understand the appeal of certain music legends. It’s been a life-long problem, one I’ve tried hard to rectify, but to no avail. No matter how hard I try, I can’t bring myself to listen to, what I consider to be, appalling music. And try I have, but it always ends in failure and social embarrassment when I’m forced to admit I just don’t think whoever it is, is all that good.

In an attempt to find kindred spirits, and/or an explanation for this strange disorder*, here, in alphabetical order, are my top 10 most disliked music legends:

Bob Dylan – How? Why? I know there were a lot of drugs around in the 60s, but even that doesn’t explain how someone with such an appalling voice ever managed to have a career as a singer. And why on earth did he think it was a good idea to sing like that anyway? I admit, he writes great songs, but really Bob, you shouldn’t sing them.

Eric Clapton – He’s an excellent guitarist, but maybe a little too excellent. I can understand why musicians might like him, they can appreciate the technique, skill and what have you. However, I, a mere mortal, would prefer to hear music played by other human beings.

Guns ‘n’ Roses – They are actually a brilliant band! The introduction to Welcome to the Jungle is one of the best rock intros ever. Then, Axl Rose (or Mr Kazoo-Gob as I like to call him), comes in and makes the most horrible noise. If anything, it’s worse than whatever Dylan is doing. Seriously, the question of how they came to get a recording contract should be added to the list of great unsolved mysteries. It’s as baffling as the Marie Celeste and the fate of Amelia Earhart.

Metallica- I’ve mentioned this before, but it bears repeating. Not only are they so far up their own bums they can probably see out of their own mouths, they also have a singer, who, for reasons I can’t fathom, insists on thrusting his crotch out like a stripper dancing round an invisible pole. I also suspect he puts socks in his pants for enhancement purposes.

Oasis – I’m tempted to dismiss them as the Status Quo of the 90s, except that would be unfair to Quo, who may be very samey, but don’t take themselves too seriously. Oasis, on the other hand, genuinely seem to believe they are an important musical tour de force, even though their back-catalogue consists of an endless stream of sound-alike tracks, and the singing Gallagher sounds more like a mugger than a vocalist.

Pink Floyd – What is it I dislike about them again? Oh yes, they’re long-winded, ponderous, pretentious and pompous. Like the aforementioned Mr Dylan, I suspect drugs play a large part in their appeal because no sober person would make it through more than a third of album.

The Rolling Stones – Some people see rock gods led by a sex symbol. I see a fairly talented band led by, what appears to be, a 25 stone man who has been dehydrated and freeze dried. To be fair, it shouldn’t be about appearance, but the music isn’t much better. There are two or three good Stones songs, but they were ruined by Mr Jagger’s insistence on singing in a corny south London accent, even though he doesn’t really speak like that. I can appreciate that when they first appeared they were new and different, but the same can be said about lots of things, for example: the Iron Maiden, being eaten by crocodiles and Gordon Brown, but we don’t defend them through a misplaced sense of nostalgia.

The Sex Pistols – For some reason they’ve achieved legendary status, despite being something of a joke to my generation. They weren’t even a real band, they were manufactured, no different to the Spice Girls. Truly, Johnny Rotten was the Ginger Spice of his day, but with more spitting, and less ridiculous clothing.

U2 – I know what you’re thinking – Pride, Where the Streets Have No Name – and you’re right, they are great songs. But they didn’t keep it up did they? They’ve turned into a cabaret band who still play stadiums. Oh, and Bono , buy a dictionary and look up the words irony and hypocrisy – and then ask yourself if a multi, multi-millionaire really should be lecturing the rest of us about helping the poor and needy.

And finally, Celine Dion/Whitney Houston/Mariah Carey/Sound-a-likes – Listening to this kind of singer is akin to a form of aural torture. No, I don’t think they have wonderful voices! I think they cover up an inability to hold a note by using seven when one would suffice. They are the worst thing to happen to music since Stock, Aitken and Waterman, because they’ve encouraged a multitude of people with dreadful voices to pursue singing careers. As a punishment for that they should be forced to listen to their own yodellings every day, for life.

Before I go, thank you to Michael, whose horror at my dislike of Floyd inspired this post, and a shout-out for Jay Strut, because I promised him one for being a cheeky monkey.

*Yes, the idea that I have terrible taste has occurred to me, but it seems unlikely.

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