Call Liveline. "Blow my whistle baby" is bringing out my inner aul one

Ah listen, I thought it was bad enough listening to entreaties to "pull your g-string down south" and songs about S&M, but this song plumbs new lows.

My inner aul one cringes, CRINGES, when Whistle comes on the radio.  Actually I couldn't even type the word "comes" there without shuddering at the double entredre.

But the double entrendre in this song is so loose that it can be rightly called a single entredre.  The song is maddeningly catchy and perhaps it's the cheerful whistling that's lulled us all into a false sense of security?  Because it's never off the bleedin' radio.

Let's have a closer perusal of the innuendo laden lyrics.

Can you blow my whistle baby, whistle baby
Let me know
Girl I'm gonna show you how to do it
And we start real slow
You just put your lips together
And you come real close
Can you blow my whistle baby, whistle baby

And then it gets more filthy:

It's like everywhere I go
My whistle ready to blow


And then he's obviously in the middle of his whistle tutorial because:

I'm betting you like bebop
And I'm betting you love freak mode
And I'm betting you like girls that give love to girls


The airwaves used to be so heavily policed and censored that even vaguely smutty songs were not allowed on.  Even now there's a completely arbitrary approach to what's considered okay for us to listen to in the middle of the day and what is not.  For example Lily Allen has suffered a BLANK patch in her bed for ages and Maroon 5 are never allowed to give a BLANK about you.

But yet Flo Rida is able to happily give blow job instructions and imagine girl on girl action while he's doing so?

Something's not right here.  Something is Blanked Up.


Call Liveline.  We need to talk to Joe about this.


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