In a development that has sent the Ministry of Culture into a flat spin, Puerto Rican bellwether Bad Bunny has somehow corralled 90,000 Londoners into a stadium. The event, described by onlookers as ‘a human traffic jam with a bassline’, has been hailed by economists as a new high-water mark for UK music exports. Because nothing says ‘British cultural triumph’ like turning the capital into a giant, sweating, spangly petri dish for Caribbean-Spanish rhythms.
Let us parse this, shall we, with the forensic care of a man who once counted the bubbles in a pint of ale. The man born Benito Antonio Martínez Ocasio – a name that sounds like a Spanish lawyer who specialises in maritime law – has apparently achieved what the Beatles, the Sex Pistols and the Spice Girls could only dream of. He has convinced 90,000 people to stand in a field, in the rain, and shout along to lyrics that are, if the subtitles are to be believed, mostly about the size of his entourage and the quality of his rum.
The Office for National Statistics, in a move that suggests they have finally run out of real data, has cited this event as a key driver of UK music exports. ‘Because of course,’ they’ll say, ‘when a Puerto Rican man sells out a London stadium, it is the British economy that reaps the reward. It’s simple mathematics. The Bunny sells a ticket, the ticket payer buys a hot dog, the hot dog seller buys a house in St Albans. Ergo, Bad Bunny is the bedrock of British property values.’
Meanwhile, the actual British music industry – a proud, wheezing institution last seen propping up a pub bar in Soho – has been reduced to a footnote. The likes of Ed Sheeran, Adele and the ghost of Freddie Mercury have been politely asked to step aside. ‘Sorry lads, there’s a new bunny in town, and he’s hopped over your dreary old guitar ballads. We’ve got 90,000 tickets to sell, and we need a man who can really sell a thigh roll.’
But let’s not forget the sheer logistical majesty of this event. The tube system, which normally shuts down if a pigeon sneezes, somehow managed to ferry 90,000 polyester-clad hedonists to and from a single location. This is a feat of engineering akin to the Central Line running on time. It will never be repeated. They will build a statue of a man in a beanie outside Wembley Park station, and they will worship him.
So yes, the UK music exports are soaring, Bad Bunny has become an honorary British export, and we have all learned a valuable lesson: never underestimate the power of a man who calls himself ‘Bad Bunny’ to bring a nation to its knees. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to check the price of gin. It’s probably gone up. Everything has.
