So much for girl power, may as well just twerk it

Sure, Miley's number was the worst thing of the night (possibly of all time) but the entire show boiled down to three hours of nothingness.

It was hollow. It was cynical. It was devoid of soul. And the girls were the worst offenders.

Miley first.

What with all the pasty little thighs and breasts on show, her routine reminded me of a defrosting chicken. It was about as sexy as one too.

Apparently she wants to move away from her Disney past. Obviously the only way to do this is to touch yourself up with a giant foam finger and prance around in the hollowed-out shell of a Barbie doll. Obviously.

She could have tried artistry or writing a genuinely good pop song but she must have seen that as the easy way out.

Basically, Miley should have known better. Robin Thicke should have known better. Tish and Bill Ray should have known better. Especially Bill Ray, the man brought us Achy Breaky Heart for goodness' sake, a classic of our time.

One last thing on Ms Cyrus: who exactly is it that's told her, to borrow a phrase from the poet that is Sir Mix-A-Lot, she's got an "LA face with Oakland booty?".

She does not have the required junk in her trunk – or badunkadunk to give it its correct anatomical name – to achieve the look she's so desperately after. This is perhaps the most embarrassing element of all. Even more so than the giant teddy bear strapped to her back.

Then there was Gaga, she who can usually be relied upon for a spot of let's-seal-myself-in-a-giant-egg-and-wear-a-lobster-on-my-head unpredictability. Hey, at least it's original.

But what did she do? Strip down to a thong bikini. Yawn.

Next up, Katy Perry.

Yep, you guessed it, she stripped down too to take on the role of "sexy boxer".

She also sported the latest celeb fad of a diamond-encrusted grill across her teeth. Someone needs to tell these women grills should only be used when cheese on toast is a possibility.

Add to this Taylor Swift going all bunny boiler (it really is time the girl stopped making clumsy digs about her ex-boyfriend), the end result was headlines about boobs, bums, break-ups and little else.

Sad isn't it? All that youth, all that talent, all that influence wasted on the easiest, cheapest tricks in the book.

It hardly sets the best example to all the tweens and teens out there.

"Hey you, don't bother with creativity, individuality or a bit of hard graft, just get yer bits out for the lads".

Or, in Miley's case, a 36-year-old married father of one who's already earned himself the nickname of King Leer thanks to his "kind of rapey" hit song. Talk about Thicke.

Truly, those VMA performances are among the most depressing things I've seen for years.

Real slugs in the gut for artistic spirit that essentially boil down to one sad little message – why work when you can twerk?