Zayn is a cool name. It looks cool when you see it, it sounds cool when you hear it, and when you say it, it does something exciting to the tip of the tongue. Try it ... Zayn. Again.
Zzzzzzayne. Good. Now say Nigel.
And so there were four. One Direction becomes two directions, the first heading all the way to the top, top, top, the other who knows where? Perhaps somewhere more wholesome, real, relaxing, less well-paid, more well-paid, loving, comforting, quieter, softer, homelier, away away away from all that no more enough already need a break need to unplug need to say no, need to not do this any more, need to get away from these faces and voices and this and that and you I hate you I can’t stand being in the same room as you get away from me no I can’t no I should no I can’t don’t be a fool, look at all these riches, the fans the life the jets the cars the spoils the life! Everything I’ve ever wanted, money, fame, girls on tap, I’m a God! HELP MEEEEEEEEE! [Aaaaand rest].
That was a trip. Oh to be Zayn for a day ... I actually worked with Zayn for half a day, him and the rest of Whun-Dee. I got asked to do one of my “hilarious” comedy characters for a spoof photo shoot mock doc thingy to help promote the release of their new perfume. And when they told me how much I’d be getting paid, I released a bit of my own.
Anyway back to the departure of the brownest pop star since George Michael told us about this club he knew, where drinks were free; I think Zayn being a super rich, mega famous, light brown western pop star is a rare thing these days. In fact, the only other brown pop singer anywhere to be seen was last seen flirting outrageously with Bill.I.Am on The Voice a couple of weeks ago before getting booted off right in his chubby camp brown behind.
Zayn might not have got to where he got to on his own no matter how talented or good-looking he is. But he passed the flacid test flanked by some very white guys indeed and in this ensemble, he went about his business. Usual colour/race sensors were somehow overridden, and the brown Muslim kid was allowed to soar to heights he might have soared to anyway had he been taken entirely on his own merits. But now the dream is temporarily over, and the brown kid has floated back down to earth. He’s visible, he’s vulnerable, he’s alone. Holy shit, he’s browner than ever! He’s getting called names: “Love cheat!” shouts the Sun, “Stealth Jihadi!” screams a blogging troll. How dare he get in under the radar and get rich and famous and powerful while 100 million screaming daughters drowned out our protestations. He’s a sitting duck now.
What exactly did he mean by “hashtagfreepalestine?” Hmm? He’s gonna pay now, you wait and see.
Of course, all this race talk is all for effect. The boy done good and he’s going to come back in the words of some daft-looking punks; harder, better, faster, stronger. Will Wand-erection survive his departure? Sure they will.
I imagine him saying his goodbyes to his bandmates in some hotel lobby in Rio before flying home first class, his fellow passengers not having a clue. His family meet him at Leeds Bradford Airport, hugs’n’tears all round. He is driven home in a cousin’s minivan.
Staring out at a thousand familiar sights, he arrives at his same old family home greeted by more family and friends, all full of love and more hugs and all the homemade chicken pakora he can eat. And then Zayn says his goodnights and retires to his same old bedroom. It has the same old carpet, the same old football posters on the walls, the same old cuddly toys by his bed, the same old torn Ikea lampshade hanging from the ceiling, the same old WWF bedsheets on the bed, the same old collection of Nike Air Max 90 trainers lining his skirting board, the same old school photos by his desk, the same old sports day medals hanging in his wardrobe, the same old collection of hair products sitting on his chest of drawers, the same old orange street light glaring through his window, the same old Sony Trinitron telly sat in the corner atop a dusty old DVD/VHS combo player next to the same old VHS recordings of his first ever X Factor appearances and the same old copy of his favourite DVD cult classic Four Lions and a Fonejacker/Facejacker box set. He looks at them, smiles and thinks to himself “Kayvan ... cool name”.
Fonejacker/Facejacker box set and Four Lions are both very much available on Amazon.
