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Tuesday, March 20, 2007

The Tuesday Twat(s)

No. 84. Over-age Goths.

This particular Twat Award was stimulated by a rather uncomfortable reunion recently. A group of my old uni mates and I had met up for an evening of drinking and debauchery (albeit, one interupted by frequent calls to baby-sitters and an early night, since we all have jobs now and can't stand to stay up past one - wimps). Enter "Jane".

Embarrassed silence.

Back in the day, Jane was a goth. Naturally, we took the piss out of her, but all in all, we accepted that experimentation in one's university years is to be encouraged. I briefly parted my hair on the other side for example. However, it would seem that not all of us have grown out of our teenage rebellious phase.

Jane discovered gothism mid-way through her second year. Overnight, she dyed her platinum blonde hair jet black, started wearing torn fishnet tights, painted her nails black and began wearing emulsion on her face. Indeed, for one as naturally pale as Jane, the effect was really rather startling. Of course, she also developed a few of the less desirable Goth traits, such as lecturing us all on how boring and conformist we all were, then sulking for days on end when one of us dared ask "how come, if goths are so indivdualistic, you all dress the same, listen to the same music and go to exactly the same pubs?".

But anyways, she was a pleasant enough lass, and I was looking forward to seeing her for the first time in years. Yet it seems that despite reaching the ripe old age of thirty, Jane still wants to be fourteen. Even more shockingly, despite no longer living at home with her parents, she still listens to Marilyn Manson, her T-shirt proving that she has attended one of his concerts within recent memory. Now call me an old fuddy duddy, but isn't the target demographic for Mr Manson middle-class sixteen year olds who simply want to annoy the fuck out of their parents "cos they don't understand me"? Why would a well-educated thirty-year old with a proper grown-up job, who by all accounts enjoys a healthy relationship with her parents, listen to him? She doesn't even suffer from acne any more. Shouldn't she have grown out of him by now?

Oh well, it was nice to see her again, and once we got past the urge to ask her which of her school teachers she hates most and how often she gets asked for ID in the off-licence, we had a great evening. But as a public service, I politely suggest that any my readers who are over the age of 21 and still listen to Marilyn Manson and dress like Ozzy Osborne - please don't. It's extremely unsettling - rather like finding that an 18 stone Rugby player still wets the bed and sleeps with a stuffed Winnie the Pooh or those Japanese business men who like wearing giant nappies and being bottle fed.


Wednesday, March 07, 2007

The Tuesday Twat(s)

No. 83. Airport Baggage Handlers.

I can't decide what's worse.

The utter contempt they show for your baggage.

The utter contempt they show for you, knowing that you are standing, watching in horror as the fuckers deliberately and unnecessarily hurl your bags off the plane.

I watched, with dozens of fellow passengers, in absolute disgust at Washington Dulles as baggage handlers lifted suitcases to chest height, before dropping them on to the floor. The windows in Dulles are floor to ceiling, so we could watch our plane being loaded. The bastards knew they were being watched as they kept on smirking at us.

And it isn't just Dulles. After just two trips between the UK and Canada, my suitcase has been consigned to the bin. Even more distressingly, the backup hard disk I had in my case was smashed and required major surgery before it worked. Fortunately, I had packed my "overflow" hard disk in my hand luggage with my laptop, so all of my irreplaceable data was safe fom these cretins.

And did I mention that they are a bunch of thieves? A close friend made it to Australia to find that whilst at first glance everything was still within the suitcase, her jewellry boxes had been emptied and the empty boxes placed back into the suitcase, presumably in the hope that she didn't notice for a while.

All in all, I am glad not to be travelling for a while, and in future I will invest in a bomb-proof samsonite and ensure that anything that these scum might regard as valuable is kept in my hand-luggage.




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