Yesterday, while out walking, I stumbled across a poster for an album by Nicki Minaj, a large-buttocked pop temptress who seamlessly combines both pornography with annoying noises to create surprisingly well-received hip hop music. Universal Music Group have branded the singer “Minaj”—a portmanteau, I presume, of the words “minge” and “vag”—because that’s what male listeners like, isn’t it?
I seldom hear popular music these days, at least not since I tuned my alarm clock to a different radio station several months ago. I had been waking up to Radio 2, but could no longer be subjected to the music of Take That, which as it happens, is inexplicably popular amongst Radio 2’s core demographic of generic people. The final straw came when, one day, I was awoken by the offensive sounds of a Take That sound-alike band. Chris Evans, who had once entertained loutish men as the somewhat mean-spirited presenter of TFI Fridays, but is now masquerading as an inoffensive cheeky chappy on morning radio, introduced the song.
I opened Spotify this morning and this image filled my screen: