LIFE is full of mundane bollocks which could easily be avoided if you were a multi-platinum-selling rap artist. Here are just a few examples.
Driving into the Asda car park
While you fight for the last parking space and trudge into Asda on a drizzly Saturday, you can’t help but think life would be better if you’d produced a series of white-hot rap demos and been signed to Roc-A-Fella records.
But you didn’t. Instead you’re scouring Asda’s ‘Whoops’ section for reduced price ready meals. Your personal fortune isn’t $400m, it’s £11 in your current account plus your overdraft. Your rap name would be ‘Lil Prospects’.
Being dumped
Going through a break-up is hard. But only for normal folk. As a hip hop megastar, you’d simply direct that pain into a hit record that ends up at number one in the Billboard charts.
Also you could instantly replace your partner with any number of stunning honeyz or hot dancers. Not so much ‘plenty more fish in the sea’ as ‘a near-infinite supply of Cristal in your climate-controlled wine cellar’.
Queuing in the chemist
After 20 minutes queuing for a prescription and hearing every old dear in front of you explain their personal ailments in disgusting detail, it’s hard not to wish you’d produced several critically acclaimed albums about growing up on the mean streets of Atlanta. But you’re from Crewe, you went to the sixth form and you work at Ryman’s. Don’t be too downhearted – your haemorrhoid medication is ready!
Attending a parents’ evening
Being dragged to parents’ evening is always a shitshow. Bur probably not if you go along wearing a diamond chain worth more than the entire street the teacher lives on. In this scenario, if little Rainbow Rockerfeller is doing badly in maths, there’s no need to worry about her job prospects later in life. You’ll just give her a nothing job at your luxury cognac brand you later sell for $1bn.
Putting the bins out
The true nadir of daily life. As you tussle with a split bag, scattering a chicken carcass and dripping bin juice down your leg, you think there must be another way. And there is.
If you’d not wasted your time at school with lessons and practised your rapping you’d be a musical icon by now. You’d have no end of hangers on and associates who’d take your wheelie bin out for you. They’d probably take all those old batteries to the recycling centre too, while you sit in your home studio twiddling knobs, freestyling lyrics and getting through heroic amounts of cocaine.
