There are so many glorious perks of being a famous musician - but the best of them all is the tour rider.

Van Halen famously asked for no brown M&Ms, but the band later claimed it was just to make sure the venue staff were actually reading their rider.

It turns out Van Halen were pretty low on the list of crazy demands - however I can imagine the poor sap who got the job of M&M sorter would suggest otherwise.

Christina Aguilera asks for a police escort. In the rider, it says, "Under no circumstances are the vehicles allowed to encounter any delays due to traffic," because Christina Aguilera is above us peons on the motorways. Maybe she should have asked for a hover craft escort instead?

Nicki Minaj asks for a fruit tray, which is fair enough; I like fruit too. But Ms. Minaj asks that there be a side of mangoes along with the fruit. Heaven forbid the mangoes touch the rest of the fruit.

If you book a show with Lil Wayne, you will apparently be harbouring some sort of gang member. The rapper demands half of his six-figure fee paid in cash upfront. Presumably so he can stash it in the Lear Jet he demands until he can take it to the Cayman Islands. One member of his entourage, Weezy, must have four off-duty police officers accompanying him at all times, and if the show is overseas, he must have four armed personnel instead.

Rihanna requests throw pillows and a rug in cheetah or leopard print. But for the love of St. Pete don't bring her any with sequins. Apparently she hates that - that and filthy rugs. The rider says "must be clean, as she will walk barefoot on it."

I don't plan my barefoot excursions that far in advance. But I suppose if I were a celebrity, I could. This got me thinking: if I was a famous pop star, what would I put on my rider?

I would demand some sort of fine wine. At about $402 a bottle, the nearly-black coloured Chteau Margaux would suit my pseudo-fancy.

My second demand would be five Creme Eggs, regardless of whether it's Easter or not. I don't care if someone has to shake down Mr. Cadbury himself to get them.

I like ponies. So much so, that one must be in my dressing room. Either a Shetland or a miniature, but under no circumstances shall that pony be spotted like an Appaloosa. It must have pink bows, be contained within a white picket fence and all hay bales must be tiny. I would also like three six-week old, smooth-haired puppies. Not two, not four, but three. Someone must follow all four animals around with a tiny vacuum should they make a mess or leave droppings. Vacuum must be tiny.

The wonderfully talented Adele asks anyone who receives free tickets to make a donation to her favourite charity. Perhaps the money spent on all these ridiculous demands - like high quality peanut butter and jelly for Jay-Z - could actually benefit humanity instead of burdening the venue staff. Just a thought.