Remember when Britney went batshit crazy and released ‘Blackout’, one of the dirtiest and grimiest electro dance pop albums of the decade? Well, can I have that Britney back, please? (Appropriately medicated of course). Stand up for yourself Brit-Brit! You are a survivor! A pop warrior who has been sucked in, chewed and spat out of the pop machine to take your rightful place in the celebrity firmament as a demigod to all the little grubby hand Idol wannabes world over. You, who has ascended to that echelon of notoriety where only first names are needed, YOU deserve better than the euro rot of ‘Hold It Against Me’ and the only marginally more palatable ‘Till The World Ends’. Sweden and Germany have been exporting this cheese for decades, and one fierce dubstep breakdown of ‘Hold It..’ does not excuse how tired and dim the whole thing sounds. Except… amidst all this euro trash of Femme Fatale ( “You got me kind of hot… Steaming like a pot full of vegetables,”..really Brit? really??) I did find one deliciously unhinged and demented nursery rhyme of a song. Combining Britney’s sexbot vocals and a sparse ping pong synthetic beat, ‘How I Roll’ is pop kitch at its smutty best. No matter how you slice or dice it, or how many gagas you stir in it, at the top it’s still Britney, bitch.