Granted, Skinner isn't really a hip-hop artist -- a fact that's been lost on many U.S. scribes. The deluge of words that flood his latest platter are generally delivered monologue-style, with Skinner only occasionally attempting to reach notes that he misses as often as he hits. Over ultra-simple backdrops, our protagonist tells the predictable story of a doomed relationship, which he tries to tart up via the enthusiastic use of Guy Ritchie language. This tack works better on the aggressive screed "Such a Twat" than it does on "Dry Your Eyes," an interminable exercise in sentimental twaddle.
"Fit But You Know It," in which Skinner natters like a git between repetitions of a quasi-catchy chorus, might sound moderately amusing in a different context, and "Get Out of My House," a sonic spat straight out of Absolutely Fabulous, earns a few chuckles before becoming mired in redundancy. The same can be said about the disc as a whole. The longer it goes on, the more tiresome Skinner becomes -- although maybe not as tedious as that next critics' roundtable.