Lily Allen's Hard Out Here mocks every stupid sexist pop video you've seen in the last five years

Also, Lily Allen's balloons are funnier than Robin Thicke's balloons.

There are five things you need to know about Lily Allen's video for Hard Out Here.
 
 
 
  1. Her balloons are definitely funnier than Robin Thicke’s balloons

According to the ancient language of balloonspeak, Robin Thicke has a big dick. But Lily Allen has a baggy pussy, because she’s had two babies, and she’s not going to lie about it. Which kind of means that they’d make a perfect pair.

 

 

  1. Growing a pair is the new growing a pair

Because it’s particularly ‘hard out there for a bitch’, Lily suggests that anyone contemplating bravery should ‘forget your balls and grow a pair of tits’. Of course, this sentiment was somewhat pre-empted by a person purporting to be Betty White, way back when we were all decorating our Facebook page with that notorious adage: ‘Why do people say ‘grow some balls’? Balls are weak and sensitive. If you want to be tough, grow a vagina. Those things can take a pounding.’ Betty White herself denied that these words had ever left her lips in a 2012 Guardian article that was disappointing for about five minutes – at least now we have Lily.

 

 

  1. Twerking in slow motion looks weirdly repulsive

As the camera zooms in on the twerking back-up dancers’ arses that Lily periodically spanks with dollar notes, you notice how compellingly strange a rapidly moving bum cheek looks when subjected to some fancy camera work.

 

 

  1. Blue lipstick is back

You had it in the mid-nineties, and now you can have it again. Lily’s scenes of liberation include partying among her balloons in a rain mac, and dancing around in trousers and a long-sleeved t-shirt: unheard-of womanly attire in pop videos for at least the last five years. The good news is that make-up which doesn’t even pretend to look natural is also back on the agenda (it graduates to blue lipstick after starting off at face glitter, something I’m delighted has been resurrected so close to Christmas.)

 

 

  1. YOU NEED ELECTRONIC CIGARETTES

Product placement became legal in 2010, but has kept itself fairly low key since the law changed. There’s no denying that electronic cigarettes E-Lites are after the demographic who know and love Lily Allen’s music videos. Proper bitches smoke electronic cigarettes. But are we supposed to want to be proper bitches? The jury’s out, and it may be twerking.

 

Lily Allen in Hard Out Here.
Holly Baxter is a freelance journalist who writes regularly for The Guardian and The New Statesman. She is also one half of The Vagenda and releases a book on the media in May 2014.
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Would you jump off a cliff if someone told you to? One time, I did

I was walking across the bridge in Matlock park, which is about 12 feet high, with a large group of other kids from my year, in the pouring rain.

Ever heard the phrase, “Would you jump off a cliff if they told you to?” It was the perpetual motif of my young teenage years: my daily escapades, all of which sprang from a need to impress a peer, were distressing and disgusting my parents.

At 13, this tomboyish streak developed further. I wrote urgent, angry poems containing lines like: “Who has desire for something higher than jumping for joy and smashing a light?” I wanted to push everything to its limits, to burst up through the ceiling of the small town I lived in and land in America, or London, or at least Derby. This was coupled with a potent and thumping appetite for attention.

At the height of these feelings, I was walking across the bridge in Matlock park, which is about 12 feet high, with a large group of other kids from my year, in the pouring rain. One of the cool girls started saying that her cousin had jumped off the bridge into the river and had just swum away – and that one of us should do it.

Then someone said that I should do it, because I always did that stuff. More people started saying I should. The group drew to a halt. Someone offered me a pound, which was the clincher. “I’m going to jump!” I yelled, and clambered on to the railing.

There wasn’t a complete hush, which annoyed me. I looked down. It was raining very hard and I couldn’t see the bottom of the riverbed. “It looks really deep because of the rain,” someone said. I told myself it would just be like jumping into a swimming pool. It would be over in a few minutes, and then everyone would know I’d done it. No one could ever take it away from me. Also, somebody would probably buy me some Embassy Filter, and maybe a Chomp.

So, surprising even myself, I jumped.

I was about three seconds in the air. I kept my eyes wide open, and saw the blur of trees, the white sky and my dyed red hair. I landed with my left foot at a 90-degree angle to my left ankle, and all I could see was red. “I’ve gone blind!” I thought, then realised it was my hair, which was plastered on to my eyes with rain.

When I pushed it out of the way and looked around, there was no one to be seen. They must have started running as I jumped. Then I heard a voice from the riverbank – a girl called Erin Condron, who I didn’t know very well. She pushed me home on someone’s skateboard, because my ankle was broken.

When we got to my house, I waited for Mum to say, “Would you jump off another cliff if they told you to?” but she was ashen. I had to lie that Dave McDonald’s brother had pushed me in the duck pond. And that’s when my ankle started to throb. I never got the pound, but I will always be grateful to Erin Condron. 

This article first appeared in the 25 August 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Cameron: the legacy of a loser