I have a confession to make. Although I would only be happy about 'Big Brother' if myself and some beer-guzzling mates could be positioned with slug guns and blow-darts around the compound, I DO watch 'Australian Idol'.

That took a lot for me to say, as I am punk rock right down to the 'Fuck the System' tattoo on my left arse cheek and my ‘Anarchy’ T-shirt, with the spit still left on from when John Lydon coughed an oyster on me last year.
 
But please readers, don't take my admission too far. Anthony Callea is a musical war criminal who should face the ‘shit-me-to-tears’ tribunal. I'm almost positive that his song 'The Prayer' fired things up violently in Iraq.

Guy Sebestian probably has no genitals and may even do sleep dress-ups as the baby Jesus. If Shannon Noll is a 'typical Aussie Bloke', then I must be from Bulgaria, as I see his dust kicking, gut inspiring songs of hope and love as the musical equivalent of a case of dangling genital warts. But Ricky Lee is SEXY, with eyes that say 'let's have steak and chips then shag like monkeys'.
 
And yeah, she has a great soulful voice, and did I mention she is really hot? I did, but to Hell with it, she is ‘sassy’ personified. Look up 'spunk-dripper' in the dictionary and you'll see a picture of her prowling with those bedroom eyes, that killer voluptuous body and her seductive purr. And this girl can belt out a great gust of vocals, probably helped by her enormous lungs.

I was shocked when she was eliminated from Idol 2004, partly because they took my eye candy away, but also that she had been a shoe in as winner. As a drooling senile yet passionate Mark Holden said at the time: ‘that’s what happens when voters get too complacent about a contestant and don't vote’. Casey Donovan ended up winning, and you can currently find her working at your local ‘Bunnings’.

Now Ricki-Lee has burst out from underneath Dicko’s man ta-ta’s and is hitting us with various eye and ear popping releases. ‘Can’t Touch It’ is a massive departure from last years pure pop hit ‘Sunshine’ and is more your standard booty shake.

Ricky has been studying the old Mickey Mouse club shows and managed to finally perfect the Timberlake/Aguilera/Spears funky autism moves, while delivering a beat and voice straight from R&B 101, or the ‘Christina Aguilera Book Of Man-Teasing, Boob-Bouncing Funk’.

I just wish that the cover of her single would feature Ricky looking like a human being, rather than being airbrushed into looking literally like a cartoon. She’s attractive enough, so what’s a few freshly popped zits between friends?

In ‘HIT’ she describes herself as both a ‘moll’ and a ‘control freak’ as well as saying ‘here’s all my deepest darkest thoughts and emotions’ in terms of her new career as a songwriter (she co-wrote this single with two others). Well her deep dark emotions here involve a scantily clad Ricky performing vocal gymnastics and urging us all to ‘put your hands in the air’ blah blah blah.

 Lyrically, Ricky is not P.J Harvey folks, she is closer to Jessica Rabbit than Deborah Harry and is so aesthetically generic that this is no groundbreaker. If it wasn’t for my testosterone being hypnotised by her ample bouncing chest I would rather be watching the Test Pattern, and lyrically, I’d rather read a Fantails wrapper that hear her sing ‘yeyeyeyeah’ once too often.

She has a fantastic voice and has her agents//stylists/body-oilers/publicists/record company people and entourage have made certain she is contemporary and SELLABLE as any of the current American pack of R&B funksters. Nothing different here, but many of you will love to dance to this after a few shots and I can honestly say her voice is fantastic, but not nearly as fantastic as the shot of her in ‘HIT’ leaning forward as if to breast feed us all.

I give this single three corn fed boobies out of five.