Last June, 18 year old One Direction band member Naill Horan called fans waiting for him at the airport in Edinburgh, Scotland a "shower of cunts".
The tape is below and he was really a little nasty but on the other hand he did wish one of the fans a Happy Birthday.
Naill's response was to dismiss it as friendly banter and apologize. Well, he sounds neither friendly nor bantering but he has no reason to either with a bunch of people who will dancing on his grave in a year or three. The relationship between boy band and teenage girl fans is well documented. In "A Hard Day's Night", the Beatles saw no connection the talent they tried to pull on the train to London and the hordes of teenage girls out for blood at the train station, though the girls in the train are in schoolgirl uniforms so they are essentially the same people in a different environment.
In "Crossfire Hurricane" a psychologist explains to Jagger how the girls want to literally consume him in an ancient rite of fertilization. These scary girls who hound One Direction (or any boy band, Justin Bieber) are not the girls they would be one on one. Together they are a monster of Id, and they are dangerous. When Naill calls them "a shower of cunts", he is not being EXACTLY misogynistic because he isn't really seeing them as people but as a swarm of people. the power of the crowd manifest.
The Stones, the most sexually omnivorous of bands ever, never nailed these girls. They couldn't if they wanted to, there is nothing to grab on to. One Direction were warned not to date girls while they were in the States last summer, but how could they? Who would they choose? It would be foolhardy and dangerous. We are not discussing David Lee Roth at a Van Halen concert saying "I'll have this and this and this" we are discussing so many girls screaming they lose their humanity and become a blur of body parts. These aren't groupies or friends or people who quite grasp what they are doing. And it is an entirely female phenom (though soccer hooligans might be a male counterpoint), this is an leashing of a type of fury, a reversal of female sexuality and intoxicated sacrament of desire.
It was so bad the Beatles wouldn't tour any more. They just stopped. It was a joke. It wasn't worth the while, because the fans didn't want to hear them, they wanted to perform rituals with them and the Beatles were simply Talismans, fetish items, for the girls.
Naill's problem here is that he gave the game away, he was expressing his contempt not for women, not for his Mommy, but much much worse, for fans. How can he love something he just can't see? How can he be loved by people who only want him to fulfill a ritual.