Wrong Direction

I don't understand One Direction fans.

I've spent the last 10-12 minutes watching a programme about a very popular boyband. You may have heard of them, Once Directions is it? Won Dimension? One Detection? Selection? Selection box? You've Won A Selection Box?!
Ah yes, One Direction, that's it. Cheeky little munchkin  faces. They do the dancing and stuff, you've seen them in the cabaret clubs and stuff haven't you?
Yeah so, there's this programme called Crazy About One Direction. I'm watching it right now. Here's my take on it, and I'm going to try not to be too over the top.

Firstly, I want to punch loads of kids. Really f*****g hard.
"Y'know, when you're low on confidence an dat they're always derr… it's like you're in your own little One Direction bubble, innit"?
I don't know what that means.

These kids are too philosophical. Sounds like a f*****g mentally challenged Mark Twain. That comment was from a girl who looked at least 15 years old. When I was a kid, I liked Power Rangers. I was crazy about them. But then I had my tenth birthday and was bought a pair or roller blades. My mother was delighted because not only did I find something more constructive than jumping into walls convinced I was a 18 year old American called Tommy, who in turn was convinced he was a dinosaur-based ninja, and it also saved her lots of money on blank VHS cassettes. Let's just say I had a collection.
But even despite my wildest delusions, I never claimed to be in a Power Rangers bubble and I was half this girl's age. 5 years younger? F**k off, I'm s**t at maths.
Round about this time though, my sister was 13. Her East17 days were long behind her. She was as mad about them as I was about Tommy dinosaur ninja teen man at the height of them, but did she ever do what these kids today do?

Well I'll tell you what these kids do. What happens is, they say to their parents, "Oh my god, there's this new boyband, One Direction, they were on X Factor and they're so, so brilliant, can I have £100 to buy all their albums (one to date) and merchandise and then can I have another £300 so you, father bear, can let me and all my very annoying pubescent friends drag you 90 miles away to go and see them in a concert and subject you to 7 hours of all of us screaming down your ears whilst we all draw all over our faces", and the parents say "Aw, I remember when me and your mother liked a boyband, here's £450".

They draw "I LUV 1D" all over their faces, then turn up 6 hours before the gig, going besides themselves to catch a glimpse of the one with the curly hair… or the one with the bow tie… or the one who was caught sniffing cocaine off a hooker's finger. They catch a glimpse and scream. Then decide it's not enough that they didn't come over and propose marriage.
"I can't believe they treated me like this" said one girl, filmed doing the about, 5 seconds after one of her mates quoted, "I like, don't care, I'm going to love dem forever no matter what". What the f**k are you on about? You've never met them, you spotty prick.

Now I'm not one to make presumptions, but I presume that if I were one them, in the band, one of the little dancers, I wouldn't exactly say that'd be worth going out my way for.

"Alright lads, it's your manager here, there's a few hormonal 15 year olds with pen all over their faces screaming their heads off next to a depressed bald man… I'll send them through, yeah?"
Curly one �" "Errrrr….. nah I'm eating my dinner….."
Blonde one �" "Yeah, me too."
Druggie one �" "They've got pen on their face, yeah? Yeah, cool, my pork sandwich can wait…"

Unlikely.
To answer my question, no. My sister didn't do what kids do today. Nor did any female in my generation, and for that I'm thankful. They just had a little dance to their favourite band of hunks, put some stickers on a wardrobe and grew out of it.
But, the parents today not just tolerate this which is an abomination in itself, they even encourage it. I could go on all night arguing for and against this kind of madness, but I'm tired, and I've had all the joy within me sucked from my eyes by this awful programme, so I can say only two things:

1) I can't blame the kids. Their parents are the guilty ones for not buying them some roller blades.
2) Kids…… buy a pair of roller blades.