Kiss Off...

Dear Katy Perry,

Here’s the thing, I can’t bare you. If I have to hear your stupid song one more time, I may throw the radio out the window and put my foot through the television. It seems nowhere is safe from your nasal whine, every café, every shop, every hotel lobby, every music channel since god was a boy, there you are banging on about kissing a girl. You haven’t kissed a girl; there isn’t a sensible woman alive who would want to kiss you.

It just won’t go away, I’m positive I’ve had at least three birthdays since I first heard it; it’s like a red wine stain on a new white top, immovable and so annoying. I was thinking of doing a Van Gogh on myself until I realised it could probably penetrate the bandages. I’m not fooled by your quirky, cutesy, oooh look at me I’m one of a kind act, because you aren’t any of those things, you’ve just stolen the idea from those who’ve gone before, you can put all the fruit in the world on your head and ride a banana bigger than the tube, I will always prefer Carmen Miranda.

It’s a cheap trick, a clever marketing ploy, a large boil on the considerable backside of humanity, it is the boomerang of music, it just won’t go away and stay away, a hook so deadly and infectious it makes the plague look like the common cold, but really, more than anything it’s simply an awful, awful, song. You lady, are enough to make a lesbian want to kiss a man…

Yours sincerely,