I was shocked that spell-check did not recognise Justin Bieber’s last name, so endemic has he now become in our society. And it was with grudging resignation that I added the little fucker to my Microsoft Word dictionary, because I have a feeling he won’t be going away any time soon.
I bear no ill will towards Justin Bieber. He is a talented, plucky little mop-head, and I wish him all the best with his singing career. I just wish he would pursue it a little further away from my ears … and eyeballs. Because the Bieb-pocalypse is both aural and visual, and in many ways it is the latter part of this Armageddon which most upsets me.
Justin Bieber’s videos are disturbing. Here’s the proof:
If you have not yet seen the video to Justin Bieber’s ‘Baby’, you are either a) lucky, because it is a hot mess of neon, bowling, trucker hats, and inter-racial gallivanting, or b) unlucky, because you are blind.
Justin himself spends the whole four minutes of it stalking a grown woman dressed as a fourteen-year old girl (the woman, not Justin). His main seduction methods are physical obstruction and poking, behaviours that nod worrying towards a future of domestic violence. You can watch the whole Technicolor prepubescent extravaganza here.
We open on Justin Bieber having a awesome time with his ‘friends’, who look an awful lot like they are not school-age children. I suspect he is their drug mule. He may be smiling, but look into Justin Bieber’s eyes and what you’ll see is cold-white fear. I would be scared too if I had just been kidnapped and taken bowling by a group of middle-aged skinheads.
This hen night just got weird.
Justin spots his prey, and, like the majestic eagle ensnaring an unsuspecting field mouse in its horny talons, subtly gets her attention by clutching at her lapel.
Shockingly, she does not enjoy having a stranger drag her around by her clothing. Justin styles it out by violently shoving her friends and scurrying gremlin-like up the nearest piece of furniture.
On an unrelated note, no one in this video is wearing bowling shoes. This would never be allowed in my local alley, Lewisham’s premiere leisure facility, ‘1st Bowl’.
Drake and Jazz from the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air are like ‘Yeah, Justin. Stalk her ‘til she’s too tired to resist!’
At this point Justin sings ‘And I want to play it cool.’ Well, tip number one, leering at her from atop an escalator handrail like some kind of pixie gargoyle doesn’t exactly scream ‘breezy’.
Oh, Honey, no.
Then a whole bunch of spontaneous choreographed dancing breaks out, which I’m not going to fault because I wish shit like that happened in my local bowling alley. We usually just have stabbings. Oh, and Ludacris appears for about ten seconds. He is really just a musical prostitute, willing to donate his credibility to the highest bidder with a shamelessness that was only topped when this happened:
(© Capitol Music Group)
Anyway, Luda inhabits the persona of a thirteen-year-old boy and raps about how he wants to see girls ‘at school on the playground’, which just adds a whole new layer of wrong to the paedo-lasagna that is this video.
Here we have the heart-warming (and totally logical) conclusion to the bowling alley dance battle. Chelsea finally falls for Justin’s quirky, stalky charms. This tender moment is ruined for me, though, because it reminds me of that episode in Skins when the two lesbians get together at the prom (because we have those … ?) and someone starts a slow clap, and we all realised that that programme had been shit for a very long time, and hated ourselves for having stuck with it. Let’s be honest, we really should have packed it in when they got high off those mushrooms they found in the woods in series 3, because seriously who has that ever happened to?? And yeah, we could all kid ourselves and say we were watching it ironically, but there’s nothing ironic about the 36 hours of my life I will never get back. Anyway, fuck you for reminding me of that, Justin Bieber.
Chelsea begins to seriously reconsider the relationship when she realises that she will never be able wear heels again … or stay out after 9.
Meanwhile, in the background, Product-Placement-Sensitive Gorilla rages ‘I thought you said you didn’t need no Starbucks?!’
I know how you feel, Ludacris. Now go home and swim in your pool of money, you whore.
All stills in this post are the property of Island Records.