In recent weeks, [REDACTED] has brought it to my attention that the frontman of S.C.U.M has a part-time job in a vintage shop not far from her own workplace. You would think this would please me, but it's actually kind of harshing on my perv, if anything, which is a total fucking bummer. You may recall that I said in a previous post that I would ( as the punchline of some wordplay, you judgemental bastard, I'm not completely classless) "let him [REDACTED]", which seemed hilarious when it was regarding an anonymous figure, but when it concerns an actual, flesh-and-blood person who may or may not be under 18, it goes from "lighthearted innuendo" to "having to tell the police that I am researching for a documentary" pretty fucking fast. You guys know how it is; it's all good old-fashioned letching and then suddenly you hear about him wandering around the high-street on his lunchbreak with a backpack on too tightly and you feel like a total asshole creep. Never humanise them, man. It always ruins it.
Before you put it to me that this whole blog entry is senseless misandry, I put this to you - maybe I am just being incredibly fucking post-modern and neo-feminist about this, huh? Think about that, wise guy! I could justify my relentless female chauvinism by making reference to the fact that their band appears to be named after Valerie Solanas' Society to Cut Up Men, but I won't for three reasons:
#2. A sneaking suspicion that as some of them are barely of GCSE age this could be mere coincidence.
#3. Checking out a teenage boy's arse is not "Postmodern". Who do I think I am, the Richard Prince of skeeviness?
(In case you're not actually, you know, from East London, here are S.C.U.M in action. I normally fucking hate modern music, and admittedly this probably makes me as Shoreditch as it gets, but what can I say? Hand on heart (heart, officer!), I actually dig them. And, all joking aside, they really are fucking [REDACTED].)