Heads, hearts and God-knows What Else Left on the Dancefloor from Gaga

Doubtless, you'll have seen the quite ridiculous video to Lady Gaga and Beyonce's Telephone. It absolutely reeks of desperation, in Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta's ceaseless striving to assert herself as a borderline-neurotic fruitcake. Serving as something of a multipurpose ad campaign for less than salubrious endorsers, Gaga's been well and truly consumed by overt commercialism with the likes of Polaroid, Virgin, Coke can curlers and some American mayo have forked out colossal wads of cash for spots in the 10-minute drawl above, alongside a shameless plug for her own brand of extortionate headphones. Such a marketing ploy punctuates the vid with a certain trivialisation, undermining to a certain extent her own exuberance for her artistic integrity oft cited as her raison d'être in this twisted web we call the music industry. It even contains a rather lacklustre attempt to dispel the unfounded myth that she's endowed with "a dick". Strutting about in nonsensical sunglasses made entirely of smoking cigarettes, clunking around with industrial chains hanging from her neck, perhaps the most ludicrous aspect of this rather audacious video is the prison setting, with Gaga complaining incessantly over endless phone calls from a justifiably anxious spouse in her most lyrically flimsy outing to date. Her voice sounds as sumptuous as ever though and those cloying claw hand gestures of Bad Romance are now but a mere fading recollection. Presumably due to her getaway in the Pussy Wagon out of Kill Bill, Tarantino's been lining her up to play an assassin in one of his forthcoming projects. The niftiest cameo since Iggy in Jim Jarmusch's monochrome masterpiece, Coffee & Cigarettes? That remains to be seen. But if your days are finally numbered down the barrel of a sniper sight, worse trigger-happy divas could be calling the shots...