You're back, I see. Back to gift the world yet more of your squealing, campy disco shenanigans. Back, like a persistent case of crabs.
Your new single is akin to stuffing a razor up one's urethra. If I could send a message to those lucky enough to have had the opportunity to bully you in High School, it would read: "Push harder. Go for the suicide". And I say this as someone for whom an encounter with the nearest dustbin was a regular occurrence at break-time each day.
Who buys this smoking tat? Are they five?