Playing to the Crowd.

So this week’s Friday Fuckery is this man from Atlanta who set up a crowdfunding page to pay for his fiancee’s engagement ring. He aims to raise $15,000 for this purpose. 


Whatever happened to modesty? Why does he (and other people) feel the need to spend such exorbitant amounts on an engagement ring? You’re going to get married at some point so throw all your money on that instead. 

The man- whose name is William Oliver -even had the audacity to write the following sentence on his crowdfunding page: 

This will raise awareness about the difference between the love we share and the love people have for us. 

The cheeky bastard! 
So if someone does not donate to his ’cause’, they are proving that they love them less? He’s a shameless hussy.

He has since stopped accepting donations, which must have been a result of the public furore this has caused. At the close of business- oops! I meant the page, he raised $609.

Is nothing off-limits anymore? Last week, a young woman sold her virginity online to some random rich businessman for £2 million, in conjunction with the escort company that she works for. What the hell? Isn’t the time out lose your virginity supposed to be awkward instead of something resembling a scene out of Indecent Proposal? Everything has a price nowadays and nothing is sacred. 

But back to William Oliver- I’m not here for his reasoning that, by funding the engagement ring, his family and friends will be contributing to their future. That is emotional blackmail. If I were in their shoes, I would rather buy a vase. The engagement ring is the financial responsibility of the groom-to-be and he is showing barefaced cheek to suggest such a method. 
Anyway, shouldn’t he have the engagement ring on him when he proposes to his future wife, or am I missing something? 


If he cannot afford what he feels his wife-to-be deserves, then pick something more modest. It’s not a crime to be modest. As long as it is not a ring made of kitchen foil, I’m sure she would understand.

In (Self Imposed) Exile.

Twitter. Facebook. Instagram. The holy trinity of social media. I scrolled through them everyday looking at updates, funny gifs and random shit because let’s be honest, that what we all love: the lack of thought that goes into reading these things. It was a bit of escapism.

I was going to give up Twitter for Lent because over the past few months, it appears that the lunatics have taken over the asylum. Even though I try to stay away from all the nonsense swirling around the Twittersphere (especially since Brexit and Trump becoming President), it feels like it has been hijacked by the alt-right and leftists slating and baiting each other online.


It is full of trolls and jackasses who need little invitation to act that way. There have been times where a picture of a beautiful black woman is posted with a caption along the lines of, ‘she’s too dark’ next to it. It’s usually followed up by the tweeter gloating about how much attention he got from those who took the bait and snapped. It’s unbelievable and mind-numbingly stupid. I started muting and blocking people who were getting on my nerves or receiving too much attention for their trolling. And still I scrolled through my timeline everyday, reading about various events (or non-events) in people’s lives, various arguments unfolding before my eyes, constantly refreshing the page to see if anything new came up even though the last update was five seconds ago. It got to the point where it became exhausting to look at yet I couldn’t turn away, almost like I was rubber-necking an accident. Also, I realised the amount of time I spent reading tweets was time that I could have been doing something productive, which annoyed me even more.

This was also the case with Facebook, where I scrolled down the list of friends posting about their lives or some random video that they wanted a reaction from. As for Instagram, that just made me feel like I was wasting my life or I was inferior. All these people posting selfies with their X-Pro and Mayfair filters and pouting like models when I don’t even know how to pout like that (and when I try I look like I’ve been punched in the gob), talking about how amazing their lives are. I know 98% of the time it is a picture that is not a genuine reflection of their life at the time, but sometimes it made me feel like crap and was not what I wanted to see when I was in a mood.

Before this sounds like an ‘I hate social media’ rant, let me say that there are positives to all these apps. I found some of the funniest things I have ever read or watched in my life on Twitter, tweets that made me howl with laughter while thinking ‘I’m going to hell’ at the same time. Not everybody is a troll- there are decent people behind some of the usernames, it’s just that so many of them get caught up in the madness. 

Facebook is a good way to keep in touch with people from your past, whether it be former classmates or colleagues. Also (like most social media) you control who sees your life- I have friends who have 400, 500, even a thousand ‘friends’. I’ve barely got eighty. A few years ago that actually bothered me for some stupid reason, then I quickly realised that I didn’t give a shit. At least the people who are on my timeline are people I don’t mind reading my business. 

Anyway, I was going to give up Twitter for Lent but decided to do it sooner rather than later. When you’re talking to your family or friends and only half-listening to what they’re saying because you’re reading some nonsense on social media, you need to make a change. Or you’re bored and end up absent-mindedly scrolling through a shedload of tweets before moving onto see who’s saying what on Facebook then rolling onto Instagram where everything makes you feel inferior. It was like some weird form of punishment/self-flagellation. I was addicted to it (especially Twitter) and found that social media became a habit that I could not kick. Well, not this time. It’s been seven hours and fifteen days (not really, more like twelve hours and six days) and it’s going well. The first couple of days were a bit odd- I found myself opening my phone looking for those apps and realising they were not there. But since then, it’s a case of so far, so good. 

Social media can be like a drug if you’re not careful. The need for validation from (mainly) strangers…the constant pressure to post the perfect selfie…or tweet something funny…or look like you’re doing something amazing for fear of looking like you live a boring life. Honestly, who gives a toss? It was addictive to me for various reasons and it became unhealthy for me. So I’m in self-imposed exile for a while, bar posting some of my articles on Facebook. Wish me luck. 

Banking on Bad Karma?

Azealia Banks started an almighty Twitter ruckus in the space of 24 hours. She went to town on everyone and for the life of me, I cannot understand why. Banks kicked things off by calling Zayn Malik all manner of disgusting things as she felt that he had stolen ideas and looks from one of her previous videos. One of her tweets was as thus:

“Do you understand that you are a sand nigger who emulates white boys’ renditions of black male hood?”

Sand. Nigger. She actually called him that. I mean…there’s being upset at feeling that someone has (allegedly) taken your style and run with it without giving you a hint of credit, but this was off the scale. To think that this statement came from a woman who freely admitted that she bleaches her skin so…who’s emulating the so-called white people perception of black man/womanhood?

Some people have said that she needs help or an intervention of some kind, but I doubt that will help. Banks is so bull-headed and there is an air of defiance about her taking on what appeared to be the whole world. Malik, Disney star Skai Jackson (who destroyed her in a series of wounding tweets), the entire UK rap/hip hop industry…the list grew bigger as the night wore on. By the time I woke up this morning, she was still at it and while I couldn’t tear my eyes away from it, I found it depressing.

I really liked Banks’ 1991 EP and despite numerous Twitter beefs and public spats, I was rooting for her to come through and let her talent do the talking. Unfortunately, she is not allowing that to happen. Previous rows have not gone down well (T.I, Iggy Azalea, Lily Allen, the Stone Roses) but this one- which Malik, to his credit, barely responded to -could prove to be her downfall.

Anyone who says that what she is saying is just her being ‘honest’ needs their head checked. Calling Malik a ‘curry scented bitch’ and a ‘Paki’ makes her sound like a member of the National Front. To call herself a proud Black woman and then make such disgraceful slurs baffles me. Then to go after a teenage actress who didn’t even @ her on Twitter and criticise her skin colour (THE SAME SKIN COLOUR AS HER) and tell her to start her menses and get a boob and bum job is beyond words. Any other fourteen-year-old would have taken that to heart, but not Miss Jackson. She clapped back and then some and it was richly deserved.

I’m disturbed at how someone who is ‘pro-Black’ and always talking about how Black women get a raw deal in the music industry and life in general, thought it would be a good idea to make derogatory remarks about the looks of another Black woman in a public arena. DJ Jamz Supernova, a black British DJ, was on the receiving end of Banks’ tongue when she dared to tell her about herself. How on earth can you be on the side of black women one minute, then roast them about their features the next? You bleach your skin, therefore you have no right to talk about any woman’s appearance. To top it all off, she also went on Periscope and ranted about all the above topics without a hint of remorse. 

How can Banks (who, remember, claims to be ‘pro-Black’) possibly be so when she made such astounding comments towards her own people? Some claim she has a mental illness or are saying that her troubled background is the reason for her behaviour, but nope, I’m not having it. She was very aware of what she was saying. To say such things to women of the same race as you, as well as people from other ethnic minorities, makes you a nasty piece of work. Furthermore, to type those words before posting them online suggests that she must have been thinking lucidly as she did so. So that argument cuts no ice.

As for her saying British rap artists are crap, she collaborated and was friends with Shystie for years until they- unsurprisingly -fell out (with Banks throwing nasty comments towards her as well). After all, this is her modus operandi so we should not be that surprised.

The powers-that-be at Twitter headquarters itself stayed remarkably quiet during her tirade. At what point did they think they should have stepped in? Or did it not cross their mind at all? 

Regardless of the fact that Banks has now issued an apology of sorts, let’s be honest. Her management should be deleting her Twitter account, never mind allowing her just to delete those vicious messages. 

Banks can spin this any way she likes and however she tries to spin her tweets as showing concern for Skai Jackson and derision for Zayn Malik, she has burned her bridges. There won’t be any Drake-like collaborations with British grime and rap artists, that’s for sure.

Sixteen Stops.

I’ve had a couple of glasses of wine
One each of rosé and white combined,
I’m feeling tired and slightly drowsy
On the train but won’t get rowdy
‘Cos that is indefensible,
And acting that way isn’t sensible
My stomach is empty, for I didn’t eat
What was I thinking? Must not repeat
This foolish idea, don’t be so bold,
Lord have mercy I’m so damn cold
I want my bed and I want some food
Sex would be nice, but I’m not in the mood.
I’m still far from home, another sixteen stops
Maybe they’ll fly by- fingers crossed.
The train driver can’t drive well at all,
Sends us flying and down we fall
As he slams on the brakes for no good reason,
Leaves on the line? Well, it’s the season.
It’s getting late but I’m almost there
Trying to be patient but I’m going spare
Come on! Get me home, no time to waste,
Got things to do and food to taste,
I’m trying to fight the sleepyness
So let me get home and eat and rest.

The Vamp.

She rests her hand upon her hip,
Her nails are on point,
The colour so vampish, she knows it’ll put
The bitch at work’s nose out of joint.
She smacks her lips together so
Her lipstick is evenly spread,
‘You need to jazz yourself up a bit,’
That’s what her mother said.
The bitch at work called her frumpy,
Was what she wore that bad?
And who is she to judge anyway?
She’s into stupid fads
And she always manages to make them look
So vulgar and so cheap,
I’ll show her, she thought, I’ll look so damn good
That she’ll want to weep.
She smoothes down her red skirt
And presses her lips once more,
Then nods at her reflection in the mirror before
She struts on out the door.

Bond Song Gone Wrong.

Alas and alack, the new Bond theme has premiered- Writing’s On the Wall by Sam Smith. All I can say is I have no desire to listen to it again. Why? I hear you ask.

It is DULL. Seriously dull. How on earth was such a boring song chosen to be a Bond theme? Now, I have no problem with Smith himself- I know for some people, his voice is like Marmite (you love him or hate him), but this song is a dirge. Where is the fire, the passion, the sass? Damn it, where is the sexiness and sensuality that were in abundance in the majestic previous Bond theme, Skyfall? In fact, after I managed to listen to Writing’s On the Wall in its entirety, I put Skyfall on and was amazed at how brilliant it still is and how marvellous Adele sounded and how much it craps all over the new song (in case you wondered, it’s all over it like a bunch of pigeons on Trafalgar Square).      

I am so disappointed because when the one minute snippet of Skyfall was released the day before its world premiere, I was curious to hear it but wasn’t expecting it to be a classic.How wrong was I? I found myself listening to it on a loop for a day and a half until the full song came out. I thought it was- and still is -utterly magnificent and one of the best Bond themes ever.

I’m not a Bond film aficionado but I know my Bond theme songs and there are few which I would consider to be classics. Goldfinger (of course), Goldeneye, A View To A Kill, Licence To Kill. I adored Tomorrow Never Dies by Sheryl Crow. I liked Chris Cornell’s You Know My Name because it sounded different and in-your-face compared to the usual Bond themes, yet it worked. I also have a soft spot for Madonna’s Die Another Day, an underrated song lambasted by people who were snobbish about how a Bond theme should sound, although let’s not discuss Another Way To Die because that song was a mistake.

This is how dire the situation is: I have  found myself wondering how the song will fit in with the opening title sequence and I never do that.
Writing’s On the Wall is similar to Smith’s old song Stay With Me- it starts off promisingly then peters out into nothingness, plodding along when instead, it should reach a triumphant and satisfying ending. 

According to Smith’s tweet, the song is already number one on the iTunes charts. I’m not sure why because it really does not deserve it. Skyfall only reached number two (you FOOLS!), so for this blandness to get all the credit that its predecessor should have got would be wrong in my eyes. It looks like social media sees the song the way that I do: a Bond theme that is as flat as a pancake and not up to scratch.