The Flute of shame Part 1: Take That

Fucking Useless cretins

Here we have our first instalment of the 'Flute of shame'.

The 'Flute of shame' is a medieval contraption in the shape of a wrought iron Flute that would be inflicted upon bad musicians.

The device would be fitted around the subjects neck, with the fingers clamped tightly along the Flute, where it would remain indefinitely.

Our first choice of talentless musicians to be awarded the 'Flute of shame' for crimes against music, as chosen by our team here at INK ltd, are none other than the monumentally shite and colossal pile of lung bile 'Take That'.

'Take That' are possibly the most talentless bunch of homo erotic, non-musical brain spasmoids ever to pollute our airwaves. The music they spew out has absolutely nothing of any musical or artistic value what so ever, and consists of an act that is nothing more than four dribbling simpletons gyrating to the sound of their own audible vomit. The fact that anybody would in any way, shape, or form find this group of non-musical fuck up's in any way entertaining proves that musical talent is not what this is about.

Image is everything here.

If 'Take That', utterly crap as they are, were on the other hand a bunch of four pig ugly individuals that sounded exactly the same as 'Take That' do now (which is still a load of old bollocks), would they still be as popular?

Of course the answer to the above is a big huge NO! The talent, which is at a molecular level, is in their looks.

That is it.

Now if you take looks out of the equation what you have left from a musical point of view is the equivalent of four very angry, rosy faced farmers, with chronic arse wrench, barking their yokel dialect into a spit covered microphone down at the local inbred village barn dance.

Our superficial culture has blinded us and clouded our judgement as to what the true nature of music is really all about. Music is meant to move us in an emotional way. Not in a way that takes your emotional level down to that of a lonely pea desperate to feel wanted by other emotionally stunted pea's. But at a level that opens us up to each other, but without the huge superficial meat medallion hanging around a scrawny necked imbecile.

It is time for mankind to wake up from our superficial stupor, grow a spine, and when something really is of no value to us as a race, ignore it out of existence.


By Scythe Underdog