An ode to One Direction's ridiculous song lyrics

X-Factor was nothing short of a miracle. 

X-Factor Series 6 provided panel shows and Britain Got's Talent amateur impressionists alike with the greatest Essex gift-wrapped prize; Stacey Solomon. Or perhaps your palette is more suited to series 9 where Gary Barlow blew my socks off into the top of the Eventium Apollo with his: "I don't know whats more offensive, your comments or that FAG ASH BREATH" zinger response to original female boss Tulisa.

feminism in colour, 2011

But most importantly, series 7 of XXL Factor birthed One Direction.  

It was a series that single-handedly corrected an otherwise accepted stat and fact via the medium of its 2010 boyband offering. This statistical urban legend that the Sexxy-Factor kindly refuted will send the National Census survey screaming:

• Myth: there was an estimated 31 million UK population of men in 2010
• Fact: in actuality, only 5 men actually existed in 2010 !!!! 

If you weren’t one of the big five (aka one of the one direction boys) then u were vaccuous space. Consider your manhood finito, kaput, nish, nada, gone. chopped liver. Nobody else would do (apart from maybe Robbie Williams) when it came to eligible bachelors.

Harry: the charmer
Niall: the Irish one
Louis: the cheeky one
Zayn: the mysterious one
Liam: 'Daddy Direction'

I suddenly had a tough decision to make. Which one of these boys would make me the happiest eight-year old alive? I had to choose one. This was a choice that would have serious implications. Which of these boys would I develop Stockholm Syndrome for when they inevitably kidnapped me as a sign of their undying love (as the majority of high calibre Wattpad fan fictions had convinced me would be the start of our love affair)?! Which of their surnames is the most compatible with my name? Fail to prepare, prepare to fail and all that razzmatazz. And which of their haunting ken dolls would I buy first?

the skinny, the bootcut, the Mom fit

But One Direction were not just heartthrobs, they were lyrical geniuses. These boys were boundary pushers- intent to push their luck and see just how much lyrical lunacy they could get away with.

Here are some of their stupidest lyrics:

“Waking up beside you, I'm a loaded gun, I can't contain this anymore” 

No Control

Kickstarting with a lyric that puts the rank in ranking, truly. Very vivid, very animalistic, very second amendment in the Constitution. Essentially, Louis Tomlinson scraping together a music career by singing about his raging morning glory. It’s giving NoFap. One strike and he’s out kinda behaviour if u get my jizzst.

“I can make your tears fall down like the showers that are British.”  

Over Again 

This lyric is crazy. So stupid. Barely even a half rhyme to its name let alone a full rhyming couplet to justify this ridiculous line. When I was a young thing I thought they were singing about bathroom showers - as in TopTiles power shower situation. Growing up is when u realise they’re making a polemical jab at the wet wet wet British rainy weather ! Stupid and camp as Christmas.

“The words you whispered I will always believe, “I want you to rock me, rock me, rock me yeah”  

Rock Me 

If someone whispered that they would like me to, please and thank you, rock them, I would personally NEVER believe. The One Direction boys talk like a book: a fan-fiction book written by 14 year old. 

"I want you to hit the pedal, heavy metal, show me you care. I want you to rock me, rock me… yeah”   

 Rock Me

Yeah sorry this one again! Not done with this harsh rock and roll number just yet. Whilst I subscribe to the ABAB rhyme scheme, the metal, biker, leather and broken bike chain imagery is so aggressive. Weirdly angst fuelled and pseudo sexy. I fear the boys are saying “treat me like a rag doll girly!!” Gender roles flipped I guess. A feminist anthem. Still, genre defining.

“My mother told me I should go and get some therapy. I asked the doctor ‘can you find out what is wrong with me?’ I don’t know why I wanna be with every girl I meet”  

Alive 

This song forced me to stop living in my Catholic shame drenched denial that the 1D boys were young, innocent and by no means…umm active. My denial reached heights I never thought i would reach in 2014, when news broke that Louis Tomlinson was fathering a child after a short lived fling! The birds AND the beas were part of One Direction. And as if I needed anymore confirmation that they were getting a leg over, they released ‘Alive’. An anthem all about their sex addiction. So crippling an addiction, their mother got involved to the point of medical intervention. And it gets worse! The girl in the song encourages him on the basis that, “hey, it’s alright! it makes you feel alive” #enabler #toxic

“With a sign on my back saying, "Kick me"
  Reality ruined my life (go, Tommo, go)” 

I Would 

If Hawaiian shirts and piña coladas had a Twin Flame, it would be this song. The Isle Of Fernando Spanish guitar scats at the beginning transport me to sun, sea, and reality ruining my life #every girl needs these 3 essentials in her holiday bag! 

talk about painting an image in the reader’s mind! So visceral, so April Fools. Bit of slapstick never fails. Kicking K on the back for Louis when he realises he’ll never compare to his love interest’s hot stuff boyfriend (“he’s got 27 tattoos” after all!) so he does feel the fool. Nice bit of oxymoron too with the teen angst ridden line that really ruined his life.

Go Tommo Go in the parenthesis adds a brownie point for group camaraderie and support. Still, one of 1D’s most iconic songs. Love her till the day reality ruins my life.

“She floats through the room on a big balloon”

Girl Almighty

This song is ramadanwith religious imagery, so the possibilities were vast when writing a metaphor to describe just how out of this world and divine this girly really is. But no, they settled on "big balloon". Images of trepidatiously straddling your legs over a ginormous space hopper spring to mind. Clumsy, out of control and butch. Sexy stuff. 

Long live One Direction. And rest in peace Liam Payne- you will be greatly missed. 

                   💫Liam James Payne, 1993-2024💫

 

 

 

 

Confessions of a Barista #1

We've all seen those Primark slogan tops adorned by Facebook mothers and charity shop rails alike. The really high-fashion, haute couture numbers that give the reader strict instruction to: DO NOT talk to me before I've had my COFFEE. Unfortunately, due to the placement of your t-shirt's fontage, gives the unfortunate impression that the reader is staring straight at yer tits. As Katie Price once said say, the nipples are the eyes of the face. As you were.

Whether coffee is your morning glory, or you've trained your taste buds to simply tolerate coffee after the use and abuse of your mum's Pret Subscription (heaven truly has gained an angel)- coffee has become nothing short of an institution.  

The Barista Script

💓#DoNOTGetBritainTalking

I'm a barista (please to be confused with barister). So when people ask me what I do for a living, I tell them i'm a key worker. I might not get a NHS 10% discount but I do save lives. 

One frapalapamochacino at a time.

Being a barista is quite the universal experience. Whether you steam milk in a chain coffee shop or you faf about in an independent cafe with a silly, over-compensating name like Latte Ass or Your Fave Toxic-Expresso, all baristas are created equal. We are experts in fake laughter, caffeine dependency and over-handling the noisy milk steamer to cover up off-hand comments you make about that one overly-familiar customer. 

It's our job to make you feel welcomed in and relaxed and read the room. No shift is complete without tossing out lines from the customer service script. Customer who is a bit frazzled? Well... "It's because you haven't had your coffee yet!" Barely gets some air blown out of their nose for a response, let alone a proper laugh. But what's a polite puff of nose air between friends! 

When you ask if they would "like some sugar with that"? you hover for 2-3 business working days and fake laugh in anticipation for the inevitable "no thanks! i'm sweet enough" customer reply. Now That's What I Call Funny! 0121Rofl. 

A Venti please!

Personal Specification: I'm proficient in identity crisis and latte art

Being a barista, I find myself talking like I’m playing a caricature of myself. Most of the time, my brain doesn’t know what’s about to come out once my mouth has already begun the talking (mistake). In a desperate attempt to appease to the SW postcoded masses of whom I work for, I start referring to loyalty cards as ‘bad boys’ and call every other hot bevarage a ‘cheeky cup of Joe’.

The demographic for whom I so lovingly serve

During the hours of 8-3pm I do not know who I am. I lose myself to the music, the moment, the demographic. I'm a sponge for who and whatever the customer wants me to be. Call it immaculate customer service? I call it chronic people pleasing! xx 

I’ve started calling Freedom Pass holders ‘my love’ and in the last few months of employment, I've enjoyed more enthused conversations about house renovations and the perils of high cholestrol than I've enjoyed hot dinners! It's easier to be a YES MAN when the people slurping their skinny frappes clearly just want an ear to chat to. Plus, the retired Theatre Kid in me secretly delights in role-playing along with these cafe stock characters. Community service meets method acting.

Never work with kids or animals

Being a barista means you become the ultimate YES MAN. Forget the girl you are outside the hours of employment. You're now the everyman's confidant and therapist, the voice of wisdom and knowlege regarding just how ABSURB house prices and cups of coffee are these days, and the regent childminder, on foot to woo and coo and yabadabadoo about their sticky toddler who you swear is the "cutest baby i've ever seen! oh yes you are!" 

the baby in question #genderreveal

Worst of all are the trophy kids... Think trophy wife but 3 apples high and has an unhealthy babycino dependence (do NOT talk to me before I’ve had my Venti Skinny Babycino). 

What would you expect to look up and see after hearing the frenzied yelps of, "over here! excuse me! Come quickly!!"? The scene of a crime perhaps, or the breaking of some serious news per chance. How about just an obnoxiously-proud grandmother showing off their baby grandson who did something vaguely resembling a smile in your vague direction? Of course this justifies dropping EVERYTHING to marvel in wonder... the baby whose idea of a sick joke is decorating the floor with a village-worth of crossiant crumbs and Frube splodge every afternoon. If you're making coffee for the mums, babies and over-bearing grandkids, paint on that smile and make the best babycino yet-it'll make the hours fly quicker and the £11.44 p/h taste even sweeter.

Children are the future. But then again, so is Climate Change xx