Last night, after your (how do I put this?) awkwardly degrading performance at the MTV Video Music Awards, I saw your mum get on her feet and applaud.
If I were your mother, you’d be getting a stern talking-to this morning.
That was not art, and it was not sexy. It was desperate. Remember the uproar when you danced suggestively in short shorts and incorporated a stripper pole into your performance a few years ago? We yearn for the simpler time of that stripper pole now. Last night’s show was a Cry for Help. Even Robin Thicke, who pervs it up with nude women in the "Blurred Lines" video, looked a little weirded out by you rubbing all over him. And what was all that nasty business with the tongue?