Dear 1D Fans,

What a week this has been! First, I want to thank all of you for your support. You truly are the best fans anyone could hope for. But all the support in the world couldn’t keep me on the road any longer. I’ve pushed myself to the limits and I can’t continue like this. I’m sorry to quit the One Direction tour, but I’m exhausted … from fucking.

I’ve had sex with so many beautiful women on this tour, it really takes it out of you. Have you ever tried having sex several times in a day with various strangers in a five-star luxury hotel room? It’s amazing. Everyone should do it at least once. But doing it every day for 41 straight days is something nobody should attempt, even with ample hydration and a traveling medic on call. I’ve burnt myself out at both ends of the candle. The candle is a metaphor for my penis.

Not to mention this tour has wiped out my voice. I’ve been screaming the names of various naked females and my throat can’t be expected to go on. I wish I could hold back my vocal enthusiasm mid-act but, again, I really do have the best fans. Tiffany, Rachel, Jessica, Thai Prostitute #3 — all of them brought their A-game and all of them deserved to hear about it. Plus, I’m an entertainer. It’s in my blood. That, and probably some herpes at this point. It’s no big deal, our traveling medic has assured me that almost everyone has it in this day and age.

Perhaps I could’ve continued on this grueling fuck-parade for another few months, but what people don’t realize is I still have to go sing songs and dance after I’m pleasured in ways you can’t possibly imagine. Do you know what that’s like? It’s brutal. The last thing I want to do after satisfying a groupie is go perform elaborate routines that involve multiple costume changes. I’m a normal person like everyone else who just wants to relax after sex and watch House of Cards on my iPad while I get my dick sucked by three models.

And I’m just one man. If my other bandmates were willing to step up and bang some of these fans, I might not be so exhausted. Maybe pull some weight on this tour and don’t leave me stuck doing all the paperwork. “Paperwork” is what we call anonymous blindfolded tequila-sex with randoms on a private jet. But no matter how many times I begged and pleaded, my bandmates refused to do their part. If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times: Meaningless sex with impressionable 19-year-olds is how you sell albums. I think our sales speak for themselves on that one.

So, it is with a heavy heart, and empty balls, that I announce I am quitting the One Direction tour. Thanks to the fans for supporting me, sometimes all over their faces. I rather liked the ones that let me do that, or at least the ones who didn’t complain when it happened. I hope to find a relaxing office job when I get home. Something quiet and simple that lets me cheat on my fiancée with lots of hot women while I make 32 million dollars.

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