There are two major entertainment awards ceremonies happening on Sunday: the Baftas and the Grammys.
But only one has issued performers and audience members with this delightfully detailed warning: "Please be sure that buttocks and female breasts are adequately covered. Thong type costumes are problematic. Please avoid exposing bare flesh under curves of the buttocks and buttock crack."
Anyway, while the image of Bafta host Stephen Fry striding out on to the stage of London's Royal Opera House in a problematic tux/thong combo is one that's strangely compelling, the "wardrobe advisory" has been issued by CBS to the extroverts who'll be at the Grammys in LA.
The broadcaster has got its presumably capacious flannelette knickers in a twist after a lengthy court battle over indecency following Janet Jackson's infamous wardrobe malfunction at the Super Bowl back in 2004.
Yet Janet seems like a coy Jane Austen heroine compared to raunch-meisters Rihanna, Nicki Minaj and their ilk.
It's such a shame that, when women are now dominating the international pop arena, so many of them have adopted tacky porn-star personas.
But I guess I'd rather they were strutting their stuff and flashing their flesh, than not onstage at all.
I'm not imagining a Sharia Law scenario, but thinking of a landmark music event - George Harrison's Concert for Bangladesh in 1971.
This week BBC4 screened a documentary about the two gigs at New York's Madison Square Garden.
It's fascinating stuff - the organisation involved; Harrison's nerves as a solo performer shortly after the Beatles break-up; Eric Clapton's erratic behaviour; and, most importantly, the fact that it was the first large-scale, star-strewn benefit concert of its kind, setting a precedent for Live Aid and many others over the years.
So there I was, enjoying the music made by a supergroup of hirsute, chain-smoking, skinny blokes in waistcoats and flared jeans - George, Eric, Ringo, Leon Russell, Jim Keltner, Klaus Voorman, and many more. When suddenly the newly-decimalised penny dropped.
Apart from Kamala Chakravarty, a tamboura player with Ravi Shankar, the Concert for Bangladesh was a woman-free zone.
George had gathered his muso pals together, they were all blokes, and no-one batted a slightly stoned eyelid. Small wonder that John and Paul were mocked for including their wives in their new pop combos.
So I'm cheering myself up with a fantasy female supergroup. Fancy joining in? For starters, I've assembled Annie Lennox, Kate Bush, Tina Weymouth and Moe Tucker. Over to you, pop pickers.
There's a celebration of a local music superstar this weekend when a new bronze bust of Alex Harvey is unveiled on Saturday at 1pm at the People's Palace in Glasgow.
Hard to believe it's 31 years since Alex died, but the love for him and his music is undimmed, and following the afternoon gathering of friends and fans, the Sensational Alex Harvey Tribute Band will play that night at the G2 in Sauchiehall Street.