The third instalment in Jason Roche’s ‘Boyband Sandwich Trilogy’
Boybands have changed. Not in what they wear or the music they produce but in their spiritual significance to this generation. They’ve cleaned up to the point where they are likeable; they’re relevant and their tunes are half decent. The past naff quota has been replaced either with elderly dignity or fresh disadvantaged background dun-good sympathy: ‘They’re nice lads!’
So what I’m about to tell you will come across ever the more shocking, ever the more trend-busting, ever the more deeeeeeep. What is the actual formula to NOT Murder a Boyband?
I’m dating one.
Friendships that go beyond friendship are not bound by what you believe you have in common or honesty or selflessness or spiritual connection or anything you formed on a last season social media platform (in fact all social media is now last season) but rather a common purpose and a sense of shared travail; a bind perhaps stronger than familial: conjoined twins so that there are no metaphorical ropes between you but actual skin where the only way to separate is to actually tear, cut or scythe flesh. An image a bit too Sky Horror for this time of the morning sorry, but hey what’s a girl to do when showing some real love for her sister. Or sisters more precisely. Seven hairless (bar one), hapless (bar three), hopeful, harmful, hedonistic (bar four), healthy (bar two) heroines.
All of whom are dating a Boyband.