Did They Win For Ugliest Bunch of Misfit Shits?

Ooof. They DID win an award of some kind.

It may have been for "Best Roots Album: Music That Makes You Prefer Putting Your Ear to the Ground And Listening to a Turnip Grow."

From left to right, it's Beaver Face McDork, who buys his jackets at the Blackpool Charity Shop. He wrote their song, "Somehow Half My Tie Ended Up In My Breast Pocket." And no, it makes no sense. He was so over-excited about winning an award, he began to masturbate on stage. His pants were about to fall down when the show's director cried, "Cut to a commercial for the Sake of Jesus Christ and the Latter Day Saints!"

Next, Fatso Twatstench, who got some fashion advice from Shauna Cuntwell: "Scissor off that huge pubic thatch and glue it to the top of your head." Grammy officials forced Fatso to disrobe, to a) make sure she DID shave her twat, and b) to make sure she had one, and wasn't just James Corden wearing a tablecloth from "Upstairs Downstairs."

Fatso thanked Aretha Franklin: "It was your inspiration that made me believe that there was actually room in the world for another blob who leaves sweat-stains on the chairs." Yes, room in the world, but not in the average bus or airport.

She's standing next to half-breed Gurn Gook, who grew up making sour faces at his parents, one of whom is Asian and the other White, but nobody is sure which. "I'd love to leave this band of morons and play Sulu in a "Star Trek" movie," he said, "but I'm not gay. In fact, I'm totally asexual. Look at my band members. They put me off men and women!"

And lastly, chewing on his tongue, is another half-breed, Oatbran Schwartz. His father is a Chasidic Rabbi, and his mother was a Fig Newton. He spent his childhood wandering around Amish country, eating raw woodchucks and balsa wood fences. Affable to a fault, he declared he didn't want to risk hurting termites or fleas, and so hasn't shaved in ten years. Influenced by Pharrell, he tries to wear the silliest hats possible. He is constantly laughing, thanks to the morning nitrous oxide enema that leaves him inhaling his farts all day.

In their acceptance speech, the Fat Lady spoke for them all saying, "We may be weird looking, but not as much as that Used Tampon named Sherrin. Jesus Christ, I haven't seen something so disturbing since Boris Becker stopped flying into the dirt and breaking his ribs. That guy looks like his mommy was artificially inseminated with a strawberry milkshake. How did he escape from the Lucky Charms box? Why does anyone LIKE his music? Compared to him, Sam Smith is a wan, talentless faggot."

I know, she didn't make that much sense, but in the excitement of the moment, she forgot to unroll her prepared speech. It was tucked in her feminine napkin, a napkin that became much less feminine and much more porcine as the night wore on.