Opinion: Would Adele Ever Give It A Rest With All Her Fuckin' Whinging?

This afternoon I climbed the stairs to Sliced Pan HQ where I was planning on greeting my esteemed colleague Mark Farrelly by literally singing the opening line of Adele's 'Hello.'

It would have gone something like this:

Hello-oo... How aarre you, Mark?

I was actually excited by how funny it was going to be. However, as I approached the office I heard a noise that caused irreparable damage to my day, and potentially even wrecked my Christmas.

Adele - the goddamn bitch - had beaten me to the line from the office radio.

HELLO FROM THE OUTSIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-IIIIDE...

It was one of those rare, epiphanic moments where you actually consciously experience the second-long process of your souring towards an overplayed song; the kind of outer-body occurrence usually reserved for an early-morning work shift the day after Stephen's Day.

As Adele's impeccable and yet somehow excruciating vocals reverberated around my skull like a thousand tiny ball bearings, I began to wonder... What the fuck is she whining about, exactly?

For starters, Adele is one of the most lauded and successful singer-songwriters on the planet. She has sold over 50 million albums worldwide, won 10 Grammy awards, four Brits, and a motherfucking Oscar.

All in all, here private life, too, seems sound; she has been in a relationship with a charity entrepreneur and former student of Eton College for the past four years, and is currently engaged. Also bear in mind that her fiancé was a foreign exchange broker at the age of 17; not even my own mother could find a fault in his pedigree, and I'm a heterosexual man.

She has a three-year-old child, Angelo, with this almost vomit-inducingly successful entrepreneur. She currently resides in a £6million-valued house with her young family in Notting Hill, London.

All things considered, things seem to be going pretty well for Tottenham's greatest music export since Lemar.

But by Christ, you wouldn't know that by listening to her new album 25, which has already sold 5 million copies. I mean, just take one look at the track listing:

1.	"Hello"
2.	"Send My Love (To Your New Lover)"
3.	"I Miss You"
4.	"When We Were Young"
5.	"Remedy"
6.	"Water Under the Bridge"
7.	"River Lea"
8.	"Love in the Dark"
9.	"Million Years Ago"
10.	"All I Ask"
11.	"Sweetest Devotion"

Will you take it easy a small while, like? Some people are only just recovering from 21, and you're back screeching your way up the charts about some prick or another from yesteryear, like a cockney banshee of some description. Even Coldplay, for all their detractors, lightened things up when they finally shook off Gwyneth Paltrow.

To put the depression levels of 25 into context, songs that were ultimately axed from the final tracklist included the likes of 'Alive' and 'Bird Set Free.'

Take mega-single 'Hello'.

Hello, can you hear me?
I'm in California dreaming about who we used to be.

Admittedly it must be tough, all the way over in oft-maligned dank-hole California with your incredibly good life. I'm personally just about to walk to my local Eurospar in the pissing wet for a Carroll's 'salmon tagliatelle' - the kind of food a prisoner would turn his or her nose up at, and it's going to be the highlight of my ramshackle shit-show of a day.

And what's more, I can't decide whether or not to put on a jacket because, despite the rain, it's deceptively mild out there for December; fierce, fierce, fierce mild - in other words prime flu weather. Have you ever had a flu at Christmas, Adele? Of course you haven't, because otherwise you probably would have recorded the most perturbingly sombre Christmas album in human history.

But you won't hear me wailing down the radio when I find a Dorito crumb in my beard and am forced to convince myself that the quest for love must continue, or when a 99-D-registered taxi empties the contents of a puddle on the leg of my pants. Sure I can't sing for shit! But that's not the point.

Adele needs to have a small bit of cop on and stop trying to be so old and sad all the time.

My last record was a break-up record, and if I had to label this one, I would call it a make-up record,

she recently said of her latest LP.

Making up for lost time. Making up for everything I ever did and never did.

You're 25 years of age, Adele, for Christ's sake. You've years to make up for any of that shite, and to do even more shite for that matter. Sit down with a tub of Ben & Jerry's and watch a few episodes of Friends like the rest of us, and cut out that whinging t'fuck.