Amanda Palmer is out of control

Amanda Palmer is basically a gigantic, naked freight train careening out-of-control down the tracks of FUCKING BRILLIANT.

For those of you who can’t watch this genius and endearing takedown of the Daily Mail right now, I’ve transcribed the waltz:

“Dear Daily Mail, I was doing a number of things on that stage up to and including singing songs–like you do. But you chose ignore that and instead you published a featured review of my boob.

Dear Daily Mail, here’s a thing called a search engine: use it. If you’d googled my tits in advance, you’d have found that your photos are hardly exclusive.

In addition you state that my breast had escaped from my bra like a thief on the run, but how could you know that it wasn’t attempting to just take in the rare British sun?

Dear Daily Mail, it’s so sad what you tabloids are doing. Your focus on debasing women’s appearance devolves our species as humans.

A rag is a rag, and far be it from me to go censoring anyone, oh no. It appears that my entire body is currently trying to escape this kimono…

Dear Daily Mail, you  misogynist pile of twats,  I’m tired of these baby bumps, vadge flashes, muffin tops… where are the newsworthy cocks?

When Iggy or Jagger of Bowie go shirtless, the news barely causes a ripple. Blah blah blah feminist, blah blah blah gender shit, blah blah blah ‘OH MY GOD! A NIPPLE!’

Dear Daily Mail, you will never write about this night. I know that because I’ve addressed you directly, I’ve myself no fun to fight.

But thanks to the internet, people all over the world can enjoy this discourse. And here, with a room full of people in London, who aren’t drinking cool-aid like yours,

I know there’ll be millions of people who’ll accept the cultural bog you where you… habitat. There are plenty of others who are perfectly willing to see breasts in their natural habitat.

I keenly anticipate your highly literate coverage of upcoming tours. Dear Daily Mail. UP YOURS!”

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