James Blunt

From Encyclopedia Dramatica

James is in ur studio, undressing you with his eyes.‎

A whiny, bland, piggy-eyed, talentless fuck whose castrato warblings somehow enter the female ear, bypass the brain and go straight down to the crotch. He's the avatar of the soulless, passionless, lyrically retarded strummings that clog up the music industry like twelve pounds of lard in a fat man's arteries. The sort of shitstain who comes in too early on a song that he wrote and then leaves it on the album, under the delusion that it makes him seem raw, funny and interesting.

James Blunt should be named James Cunt, as it is a lulzy rhyme and reflects his gay nature, Amirite?

It is a little known fact that Jamie Blunt recorded his entire album with wires attached to his testicles with the aid of crocodile clips, which explains the "Oooh I've squashed my balls in a mangle" voice. If you listen carefully, you can judge the exact moment that the other end of these wires are connected to the terminals of a car battery.

This dude has a serious case of unwarranted self importance and has convinced himself that the crackhouse patrons across the road from his trailer are actually stalking him. So he purchased a gun with which to fire rocks at them. Hilarious lawsuits are sure to follow.

The only match for James Blunt is Jack Johnson.

People may have been moved to hear about the incident in which someone was roused from their coma while listening to James Blunt's music, but this is undeniably outweighed by the amount of people who have slipped INTO one while listening to the tone-deaf twats babble.