A Brief Consideration Of What Constitutes A ‘Good Time’

A discussion featuring the world-renowned Miss P. Hilton and Wayne (Lil., PhD)

This morning as I lay in bed, the mid-morning sun splashing brightly across my goose-down duvet, I thought I’d switch on the wireless and allow myself half an hours more relaxation. I lay tucked up in a warm cocoon of soft linen, flowery waftings of Earl Grey filling the room with a heartening ambrosia. The satisfied contentment washing over my body was something similar to what I imagine being hugged by a massive fluffy polar bear in a giant bunny rabbit costume would feel like, a sensation to which I’m certain you can relate. Just as my eyelids began to droop and my pillow sucked my heavy head into a memory foam comfort-crater the crackle of static coming from the radio gave way to an jolting trancey beat.

An overtly sexual overly-autotuned and utterly irritating voice began moaning across the top of the pulsing synths – Paris Hilton has entered the building. The screaming sex siren whined something about ‘having a good time’ and then scandalously informed her dozing audience ‘I might be a bit tipsy’, how very naughty. She then went on to ask if I myself was having a good time… In bed, under a thick duvet, tea to hand; I was having a cracking time, thank you very much. She once again reiterated that she was tipsy (I heard you the first time) and then assured me it was all OK because ‘you’re with me’, tea still in hand.

Another minute of ear piercing screeching followed, the main thrust of which consisted of commands for me to have a good time. I assure you, apart from the song, I really was having the best of times. But what really caught sparked my interest was when our dear old friend Lil Wayne came drawling into the hurricane of auto-tuned chaos, the lyrical Buddha that he is. What follows is a breakdown of a few of my favourite lil lines from his lil rap, whereby I hope to gain a greater understanding of just what philosophies this hippity-hopping man of the world is propounding.

I’m fucked up, I can’t tell you what’s what

So it seems like Wayne (you don’t mind if I drop his full title do you?) was in a similar state of inebriation as poor old Paris. Although he doesn’t seem quite so comforted by my company.

All she know is how to fuck

Now I do see how tantalizing that clever half-rhyme of ‘what’ and ‘fuck’ may be to a poet like Wayne; but I really do think that is a little mean and reductive.

I walked up to a big butt, and ask her ass ‘bout what

Oh dear Wayne, you must be awfully tipsy if you’re talking to her buttocks, it’d stick to the shandys if I we you.

Tunechi never slacks without a button up

I’m afraid I haven’t the faintest clue what that means. But doesn’t it sound just great.

I roll the dice and love up

I’m all in, I’m all in

Now here the poetic genius of Wayne really begins to take shape. He is very cleverly using a nifty gambling metaphor to describe the act of extra marital copulation. Genius.

Paris, do you speak French?

I get special treatment

Oh boy did this one make me chuckle. Our wily wordsmith very comically puns on Paris’ name to ask her if she speak French. Bravo! (FYI I highly doubt she does.) The ‘special treatment’ once again refers to the act of love making, I believe.

And times like these are timeless

She fucked me like she love me

I was at first a little confused as to why the aforementioned evening was so-called ‘timeless’. But the next line ‘She fucked me like she love me’ really cleared things up for me. Our soft-hearted young scoundrel clearly cherishes the intimate moment of unity the two shared, he is gratified by Paris’ evident love of him. It really is quite sweet.

Love is such a science, do you think it’s love?

And with a flourish of his rapping quill Wayne signs off by posing to his fans a deeply philosophical question. He may be lil but his intellect is big.

As Lil Wayne’s profound lyrical musings echoed through my head, Paris brought the song to a close in a crescendo of glass shattering yelping. With one final compliment paid to my being present (‘I might be a bit tipsy. / But it’s OK cause you’re with me’) the synths faded to silence I was left, clutching my tea, eyes wide and my head filled with thoughts of love, poetry and being a bit tipsy.

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