7 Reasons Why Oasis Are The Worst Thing To Ever Happen To Britain

You know the one. He stands at the mic, like a dim monkey with a bad case of chub rub. He grimaces, surveying his adoring crowd, while maybe arhythmically shaking his tambourine as if it’s a molotov cocktail he’s about to hurl at a shop window, and then he’s off. Making his shoulders twice their normal width, he trundles across the stage like a pound shop John Wayne. If there were innocent bystanders for him to barge into and flick the Vs at, he’d do that too. Because he’s a petulant man-child.

The worst thing is that Oasis fans look at this fully grown baby’s manufactured petulance and think “cor he’s cool, I wanna be just like Liam”. So they manspread on The Tube. They walk down high streets with their hands behind their backs as if handcuffed, their chins sticking so far out that it looks like an invisible magnet is pulling them along, and their legs so wide they could be trying to move an invisible inflated beach ball without using their hands.

They have morphed into this decade’s lads, the ones who go in for a bit of cheeky banter with some fit birds while guzzling cooking lager in awful theme bars up and down the country.

In short, they’re the scourge of decent thinking folk, and they only exist because of that walk and that stance. It’s incredible to think that one man’s stage persona has caused such suffering.

Shame on you Liam.