Disclaimer: Due to the brutality of the following article HTF feels it should state that the thoughts and feelings in this letter are that of the author and NOT HTF as a magazine. All hate please direct to @martinjohnmcd. Let the blood bath begin. Thanks x
So, some little shit has left an institution… and Clarkson got sacked too. Boo. Fecking. Hoo. At the end of the day mourning the loss of Zayn Malik from One Direction is kind of equivalent to sobbing over a used wank rag because it contains your lost seed. That is to say…just a tad pointless, another will come along.
At the end of the day Zayn has left One Direction, one of the country’s most successful pop exports (sigh), a job where he was required to sing in an acceptable pitched harmony with four other shiny faced and hairless media constructs on songs which were written by people old enough to be their granddad. It’s a hard knock life son!
Zayn has probably been required to use his head about 3 times in his career. Once in the Philippines, where he had to elect whether or not to take drugs in front of a camera. Another time when he had to decide whether or not to *allegedly* shag the blond tart at the bar. His latest mind fuck has been to leave One Direction in a quest to be “a normal 22-year-old who is able to relax and have some private time out of the spotlight”. Little tip here dipshit. You’ve just left the biggest band in the country after speculation of cheating and drugs abuse… you’ve just signed a warrant for The Sun to record pillow talk with your mother and transmit it live on “OMG HE’S ACTUALLY GONE OMFG :( MY LIFE IZ OVERZ! FM”. Plus dating a member of Britain’s second biggest talent show girl band/dad totty group, really isn’t going to help matters.
So let me do you a favour, you spoilt and over-privileged prat! What you need to do is check yourself into a plastic surgeon, get a bit of nip and tuck done. Alter some facial features, or a full sex change? … the choice is yours! Now no fucker will recognise you. Just imagine a world with no croneys kissing your arse and telling you that your last shit smelt great, no media department to cover up your latest boo boo, no popstar girlfriend with rocking jugs and no fucking chance of a career.
But never mind because you’re a millionaire former child star…just look how that worked for Macaulay Culkin!
As for you ever-lovable mutation of DNA we call 1D fans, get over yourselves! You fell in love with a band of teenagers brought together by Simon Cowell and a marketing/merchandising team because they looked good and sang OK. A band set up to market sex in a teen friendly way in one self lubricating love train. You can’t mourn when the lovetrain loses a passenger…just hope the fucker didn’t have syphilis! Give it a month and you’ll have moved onto 5 Seconds Of Summer or something. It’s a tough life when you’re chasing legal jailbait!
