Due to popular demand, I have returned from the dead. This is supposed to be a regularly sporadic column after all, even if that is a contradiction in terms...
The other day, I was sitting in one of those cubicles in my University's library, surrounded by other students. Nothing wrong with that, I hear you all exclaim. No, of course not... unless you happen to go to a University full of Ali G clones and in that case, you perpetually fear for your sanity.
For those of you unfamiliar with the national institution that Ali G has now become, construct in your minds an image of the kind of person who has three mobile phones, a mixing deck, and dons brightly labelled sports clothing and more gold jewellery than Mr.T. And you'll have a vague idea of what I'm talking about.
Here's a visual aid:
Only Ali G is taking the piss. The people at my university are not. How scary is that?
At my university, being disdained and called 'posh' simply because I don't say "Innit?" or "Easee geyser" or " Shoine yer shoes, guv'nor?" is a regular ordeal that I have to endure.
I hope you all feel for me.
People, on the whole are annoying; people with mobile phones even more so; pretentious prats with loud voices and mobile phones in restaurants are one of the worst kinds of people to have to encounter.
I was eating at Wagamama with my sister the other week. For those of you who have never been there, it is a Japanese restaurant, with an emphasis on minimalism. To emphasise the minimalist influence, the tables at the restaurant are lined up in a way that is reminiscent of my old school's dining room (canteen). Whereby the tables are in long rows across the width of the restaurant and the seating consists of benches. My sister and I were unfortunate enough to be seated next to two of the loudest, most pretentious, pompous, suit cladding people in London. Their conversations, which we were unlucky enough to have blasted into our ears, consisted of:
-"I don't like my office..."
-"Oh, but you have a great office..."
-"I don't want to drive my Mercedes on to these streets... hell no! They would ruin my tyres!"
-"I'm a git. A conceited, arrogant, annoying, suit-wearing, mobile-phone owning twat with a loud nasal voice and an American Express card. Look! Look at me wave it around for no readily apparent reason in your faces!"
Ok. So I made that last one up, but the rest were all true! Honest!
Moving swiftly along...
Have any of you been to Bank station on the London underground? There is a long tunnel linking all the lines together. And that tunnel has appeared to have become a miniature concert hall in itself! There are always buskers there and they even seem to take shifts! One of my personal favourites is the piano accordion guy who carries the accordion in a red nylon bag. To be honest, he's actually quite good on the instrument but what is most amusing about this guy is what he does before and after his "shifts". He always attempts to make small talk with the buskers who play before and after him, saying things like, "Are you leaving?" as he watches them pack away their musical instruments and put their coats on...
A favourite of my friend Cindy's is the hippy woman, who stands in the tunnel in her sunglasses and mini-skirt and strums her guitar, occasionally emitting a pitched "Arrrrr...arrrr...arrrr" from her mouth, but never actually sing songs.
Not to mention the other buskers there... the one-man band guy - who plays the banjo, the harmonica and sings simultaneously! As well as the guy with the didgeridoo...
Arrr... the joys of living in London!
Okee, kokee, pig in a pokee - enough ranting for this column...
Remember to tune in again, if you haven't fallen asleep already, for yet more meaningless drivel...
"Where would I be if you all got jobs before the end of the course? On the dole!"
(Pauline, Restart officer, Royston Vasey, The League of Gentlemen)
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