Trolling in the Deep: Adele Follows Me Everywhere I Go

This article originally appeared at VICE UK.

Look at this photo of Adele, Adele Adele Adele Adele Adele, little old Adele, from Tottenham, Adele. Look at her, in all her Adele glory:

Your mind is going like this right now: yes, that is a normal photo of Adele, just turned upside-down, but otherwise normal in every way, yes. But look again, properly now:

You rotten fool. You garbage idiot. Look again, trash monster. Fuck hole. Dickwad. If they gave out benefits for 'being an idiot', you would qualify for £52.80 a week. Your brain has deceived you and sold you for a halfwit. But then, can we really divide your brain from the concept of you? You live inside the fleshy pink-grey mass that is your brain: that's where you see out of, where your internal monologue runs, where you sense of self settles, where life sparks from your top to your core. This photo of Adele has got inside that, between the folds: this photo of Adele has tricked your brain so hard it has stripped it away from your very identity. Your sense of who you are is gone now, ghosted, evaporated: instead in its space is the cold, clawing grip of Adele Adkins' free hand, the one that isn't holding every single BRIT or Grammy Award or Oscar ever forged, and the free hand is tight around the very soul of you, the very core, squeezing you like a lemon for pips. Look at it again.

'Ah, just a lovely upside-down picture of Ade—' NO, WRONG, YOU IDIOT FOOL.

Have you seen this photo of Adele? Where did you see it: did you see it on Twitter account @TurnYourPhone, or any number of accounts ripping @TurnYourPhone off? Or did you click the headline 'Bizarre upside-down image of Adele leaves the internet totally perplexed' on the Daily Mail? No: 'Bizarre upside-down image of Adele leaves the internet confused', Evening Standard. Or: This picture of Adele is freaking everybody out (Metro), This upside-down snap of Adele is freaking everyone out (Yahoo! Tech), This Upside-Down Picture Of Adele Is The Scariest Thing You'll See All Day… (Marie Claire), Trolling in the Deep: Adele Follows Me Everywhere I Go (VICE UK), did your mum share it on Facebook, did yer da, yer ma's ma, yer ma's ma's ma? Where did you see the picture first and how much did it freak you out? On the freak out scale? From 0 (absolutely not freaked out) to 10 (exceptionally freaked out, first-sorority-girl-to-be-murdered-in-a-horror-movie freak out)? I would say that the most freaked out any human has been – and we are talking about the single most freaked-out human alive at this – I would say on the scale they are, at worst, somewhere near a 3, at this photo of Adele. This upside-down photo of Adele has left the internet baffled, but can you see why?

Adele. Adele Adele Adele Adele Adele Adele Adele. Adele.

I would like to declare Peak Adele, now. I am Adeled out. Adele, Adele Adele Adele Adele, Adele from Tottenham, little old Adele, voice of an angel but voice also of a hard 50-a-day nan, Adele, with her ballads, but she's not afraid to swear, is she? Adele: dirty mouth, filthy, needs washing out, honestly, but that's why we like her, Adele. Because she also has an angel mouth. Two-Mouth Adele, we call her. Classic double-mouther. Adele quotes: "Hello from the other siyiyiyide!" Additional Adele quotes: "SHAT YA TRAP YA FACKIN MUG." Adele. Adele Adele Adele. Loves her kid, does Adele, as down-to-earth people do. Doesn't let the fame get to her, like we all like to think we wouldn't when we would. Adele. Adele, not on social media much, like In The Proper Days, when we had Proper Stars. Ah, Adele. Adele Adele Adele.

I am tired, reader, I am so exhausted, my body is fraught. And it is because I cannot stop looking at pictures of Adele. There is no respite, no let up. This is the future, now. This photo of Adele (look at it again) is a sort of vision of the future, and, not one I'm wildly comfortable with. It is a glimpse of that Adele-as-omnipotent-yet-merciful-god sort of way the UK is doomed to slide into – Adele on billboards and Adele on shopfronts, Adele in corners and Adele projected on the cloudy sky, jerry-rigged air raid warning sirens spooled up to play 25 on a loop now, all the TV channels play is Adele at the BBC, the money has Adele's face on it, our clothes have Adele's face on them, and when the Queen inevitably dies and we go to coronate Charles, at the last exact second, a the exact last second as the crown quivers above his ageing head, someone goes, "Maybe we should give it to Adele instead!" as a joke, and everyone laughs, but then someone says, "But… yeah!", and Adele is there, obviously, she's singing at the coronation because she's the only singer we have, and she walks down the gothic aisles of Westminster Abbey to rapturous applause, shes's going, "NAH!", she's going, "NAH! NAH! NAH! NAH!", folded hand on her chest, going, "LITTLE OLD ME? ADELE?", and then they shoot Prince Charles, they shoot him in the head with a bow and arrow, and instead give the crown to Adele, Adele Adkins, Queen Adele Adkins, Little Old Adele From Little Old Tottenham. That is what's going to happen. That is us in three to five years.

Oh but she has such a nice voice, you're thinking. Like an angel, a proud London angel, and she likes a laugh. These are undeniable facts. But: can you close your eyes and imagine a future without Adele? Because I can't, and it's affecting my sleep. I'm tearing up just trying to imagine a world where nobody says Adele's name to me or plays me an Adele song or shows me a picture of Adele sassily holding an award, because I can't. Go to the countryside, they say, escape. But you can't. A lorry will go by with Adele's face on it. Someone will be playing 25 on their gramophone. Climb to the top of the highest mountain and scream. Know that even in your most primal moment you won't reach even half of a note that Adele could reach while exhaling smoke from a cheeky fag, which she likes, because she is Adele.

Adele is everywhere, she is everything. Her monstered face is the hottest yung meme. You will never know a world where Adele does not exist. You will never know a time where someone is not, presently, liking Adele. Right now someone is listening to Adele. Adele. Someone else is thinking about her, getting excited to see her live. Adele. Adele Adele Adele. There is a meeting right now going on among advisors for the Queen about how they can best honour Adele. Adele, Adele, Adele Adele Adele. Is she this country's last hope at glory? Is she the smokescreen pulled down to hide the fact that the country is dying at the seams? Go to a hospital where the elderly are dying in corridors on gurneys and listen to their last breaths as they whisper, "Adele". Go to homeless shelters as they sleep under posters of her lovely black and white face. "Adele," they'll say. "She's the only light we have." The country is dying and all we have is Adele. There is no escape from her hard ballad regime. "Adele," the wind seems to say, "Adele Adele Adele." And you, too, as you twist into it, become engulfed and become convinced: Adele, you're saying, yeah. Adele! It is too late. You have gone over to her side. There is no hope for you now. Look at this photo. Adele. Adele, Adele, Adele Adele Adele. Isn't she fun. Isn't she an angel. Isn't she Adele.

@joeladeleby

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