Jamiroquai

Mostly it’s the singer, JK, but I’ve included the entire band due to their unjustifiably self-satisfied music.

I am both bored with their songs and boiling over with hatred for them. You might think that these emotions are mutually exclusive. They’re not. I hate how bored of them I am and I’m simultaneously bored of how much I hate them. It’s a rare feat to be that objectionable. I can’t even work it out myself, but I don’t need to as there’s no danger that I’m confusing any of these feelings for love. They say it’s a fine line between love and hate, but frankly that’s balls. I hate the music of Jamiroquai.

To cap it all off and to lower themselves below those guilty of war crimes, Jamiroquai’s musicians recruited the world’s most arrogant fawn as their singer. There is only one reason why JK could possibly be so pleased with himself and remain convinced of his talent – that reason is monumental stupidity.

With the physical build of a bipedal vole, the well-spaced teeth of a child’s drawing and the beard of a child, he yelps, pirouettes and side-steps his way through the realms of our collective purgatory. The only thing worse than a prick of such phenomenal magnitude is one who is ignorant of his own pointlessness. And he uses initials instead of a name. Who does he think he is that he doesn’t need a name?

Maybe we can get some satisfaction from his dancing by chasing him all the way to Johannesburg with a pointed stick. A very pointed stick. Then we could leave him twirling the keys to his sports car before seeing if Johannesburg’s street crime fraternity are won over by his antics.