About As Ghetto As The Wombles

Ears. They're flipping fantastic, aren't they? Tirelessly taking in horrendous sounds such as a baby's crying, or the sound of nails scraping down blackboards, or the sound of nails scraping down crying babies and dying seals, and yet our ears never complain. Until now. Ladies and gentlemen, I present unto you: Swagger Jagger, the horrendous crapfest by Cher Lloyd. I could barely hear myself thinking 'What is this?' over the sound of my own ears throwing up. Tentatively listening through the brief intro, I though this was going to be a huge dirty dutch house track, until it hit the first verse, and it all runs downhill from there.

And dear goodness, she's a cocky one, isn't she? The first verse begins with 'You can't stop looking me, staring at me, be what I be, you can't stop looking at me, so get off of my face'. For a start, not only would it be weird if anybody was actually stuck on Cher's face like a facehugger out of Alien, the only reason that we can't stop looking at her is because she's tried her very best to look and act like Cheryl Cole, except she doesn't, and ultimately ends up looking like Cheryl Cole stuck midway through a transfomation into one of Balrog's testicles. And, occasionally, a meerkat who's just spotted a predator three feet away, since at the end of every sentence she seems to feel the urge to make wild hand gestures and pull a face like a man who's just dropped soap in a prison shower.

She then goes on to tell us about how "you can't stop clickin 'bout me, writin' 'bout me, tweeting 'bout me". Firstly, you can't click *about someone, love, you click on them. And yes, people are tweeting *about you and I'm writing *about you right now, but that doesn't make it good, especially since 99% of all the writing about this song and Cher in general basically boil down to 'Well, this is a bit crap, isn't it?' But, whatever makes her happy. The attention whore.

What really, absolutely takes the biscuit though, is the chorus. "Swagger jagger, swagger jagger, you should get some of your own" she bleats, throwing the cameras knowing looks. I would get some, Cher, expect I don't know what on earth 'swagger jagger' is. Is it regular swagger? I've got plenty of that, you know. You're acting like you're the sole proprietor of swagger, just like Justin Timberlake claimed to be the overseer of the world's supply of sexy, bringing it back like a more desirable Wispa. Except he did it in a catchier way, is immensely more likeable, and got away with calling everbody nasty names at the same time. Or maybe it's a special kind of swagger reserved for rhyming geniuses. In which case I'd like to stab her with my swagger dagger for even coining the phrase in the first place.

Another phrase I'd like to stab her for is that we apparently can't stop 'youtubing' her. Yep, she used youtube as a verb. Good grief, she's like a one-woman army hell-bent on destroying sensible language, in a vain attempt to look ghetto, even though she's about as ghetto as The Wombles. In fact, she even looks like a womble, whenever she's pulling her surprised face. Google it. It's true.

She then goes on to explain that we'll definitely, unequivocally have her "on repeat, running this beat", even though the only desire I remotely have of running this beat is running it over with a bus. And reversing. And pouring petrol on it an setting it alight, then dancing round it as it goes up in flames.


Kind of like Cher's musical career after this song, really.