The Prince Parody That Had His Lawyers Threatening To Sue Me

In October 2013, Prince released a video for his song, “Breakfast Can Wait”, featuring a female Prince impersonator, leather-clad dancers and a whole lot of sexy breakfast food. I wrote a commentary to the video in the voice of Prince, which was published by Noisey, VICE’s music site.

After about a week, Prince’s lawyers got in touch with VICE to say they weren’t happy with it, and Noisey took the parody down. My main feeling at the time was one of amazement and something approaching flattery — after all, this meant there was a 0.0001% chance that Prince had seen the piece. But then, Prince can take a joke, and I thought that if he had actually seen it, he would have been fine with it. He might even have laughed. Once.

So, as a tribute to one of the greatest artists of recent times, a man of almost incomprehensible talent, here is that very silly parody. If the lawyers want to get in touch, I’m right here…

Prince, “Breakfast Can Wait” © 2014 NPG Records Inc

Hey babies. Dig this. Bass. Keys. Bassoon. The earth was formless and void, and darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of PRiNCE was moving over the surface of your body. I have awoken from the slumber of ages and am about to enter the kitchen of destiny. If you don’t pronounce the capital letters in my name I will dishonour you.

Guess what I’m interested in? Dig if you will a picture, of me and my frying pan in a sea of love. The sweat of the Teflon covers my body. Can you picture, video viewer, my toaster as I plunge deep inside it? Dream if you can, friend, Prince doing sit-ups on these newly-fitted fixtures. Until then, I must have what is mine; I must have this beautiful creature in the red dress. I am hungry. But not for breakfast. Not yet. Emancipate yourself from the tyranny of breakfast. Purify yourself in the maple syrup of love. Somebody tell the police to stay away, this girl’s gonna be screaming.

Sizzle in the pan for me, re-formed piglet. I will eat you later. The blacker you are the sweeter you will taste. Your salty flavour will be mine. Don’t be ashamed of where you came from, piglet. All of God’s creatures are beautiful and Prince loves them equally. I never wanted to be your weekend lover, piglet. I will be back for you but it’s been seven hours and 12 minutes since I tasted a woman. I’m just like everyone else. I need sex and breakfast. In that order.

You know what I’m thinking: “Have I brushed my teeth”?

Why get distracted by the creeping drip of an egg (or is it honey? Damn I’m horny) when we can party like it’s 1999 in my bedroom? I will be back for you, egg (honey?). I will lick you off the floor. It’s not for someone that doesn’t play music to judge me. It’s not for someone who eats breakfast straight away to tell me that I shouldn’t wait. I have other priorities. I am only now manifesting something that has been in my soul for thousands of years: the desire to make love before consuming grits.

This imposter is standing in for me. It’s a shame but what can I do? I am no longer able to appear in daylight. I got a lot of Gemini in me, I have many faces. This is one of them: the face of a hopeful young actor in his 20s. Another face is the face of disgraceful Republican politician Dick Cheney. I had my make-up artist friend Ramora make a mask of his grotesque visage and I wear it when I go to play golf at my country club, which sits in the middle of Lake Minnetonka.

I have always represented the rights of women. Every video I make must feature a breakdown of women dancing in leather.

And an all-female, voguing-in-the- boardroom scene. My CEO is a woman. Women rule us. Women and the sign of Scorpio, which hovers above us in the celestial sky, below the ram’s bull and the guitar’s edge. Is Jupiter falling from the sky? Has Mars turned into a basking shark? Is Venus telling me to make love to it? I think you know it is. Ow. Yeah. Dig it.

Oh hello there. I’m holding a guitar. Grrrrrrrr….

This pancake does not impress me. I will not be eating it later. I will discard this piece of breakfast frippery.

But perhaps the pancake will please me if I apply this honey to it. I can eat the pancake by encasing it in the sweet juice of the bumble bee. Listen honey bee, I know that you’ve been going with another creature, but dig this: I don’t mind. I love you more than when you were mine, honey bee. Let me put you on my hot breakfast dish. You can’t leave a black man in this state. Let me smother this hotcake in honey.

Everyone wants to be free. Lovers and friends must be emancipate themselves. Spirits be formed. Are you going to control the passage of the moon, the falling of the tides? Have you stolen my blouse? Where am I? I can hear the Whales calling me

That’s what I think of that. Two words: not impressed.

I never wanted this video to hurt you babies. I never wanted to see you cry. I never meant to make you watch me make love before breakfast. I never meant to say that breakfast isn’t the most important meal of the day. Listen close to me now, know this: breakfast is vital, but the enriching of your body and soul through the act of love is what makes us human. I have travelled down the rings of Saturn, passed the icecaps of Uranus, leapt through the fires of Mercury only to bring you this truth: make love. Then eat bacon. Smother your pancake in honey but only after you’ve smothered your honey with your pancake. Come together children, let me guide you to the doors of my kitchen of love.

Prince never forgets the little people. His royal badness is out.

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Prince covering Joni Mitchell’s “Case of You”




Journalist and writer. Middle East Eye, the Guardian, Vice, Africa Confidential, i Paper, openDemocracy, &c. @oscarrickettnow

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Oscar Rickett

Oscar Rickett

Journalist and writer. Middle East Eye, the Guardian, Vice, Africa Confidential, i Paper, openDemocracy, &c. @oscarrickettnow

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