nunoncastors

I like to go for a pint with my friends now and then, just a quiet couple after work on a Friday or a few with lunch on the weekend; I’m not a big drinker any more as I no longer see the point in catatonia and mindless dribbling – it’s a sign of the times I suppose – and usually it’s lovely and somewhat convivial; we talk rubbish, discuss possible opportunities for F.U.N and generally take things easy. Sometimes however, sometimes, it’s marred by the presence of tossers. Or maybe it’s marred by my perception of the presence of tossers because I’m one myself, maybe, I don’t know, it’s all getting a bit existential, I don’t like it..

Anyway, often they’re simply obscenely drunk and irritating, occasionally they’re a weird old guy who won’t fuck off and insists on creeping you out with his slimy manner, but last night it was fucking students*.

As a rule, I’ve nothing against students provided that when you say ‘student’ you mean someone who actually studies and doesn’t just piss their loan up the wall for three years before coming away with a degree in Media Studies which, honestly, is neither use nor ornament.

Friends, former students themselves, have claimed that this smacks of jealousy because I’ve never ‘experienced’ university life and therefore can’t relate to the mindless pratting about, as though getting pissed for three years and rutting like a tumescent monkey isn’t something that can be achieved without a massive loan and a tendency to stay in bad until noon. I mean, they may have a point, or rather, would have a point if I didn’t have a degree and several well documented instances of extreme prattery.

Still, jealousy or no, I retain my intense objection to the anime-haired scene-whores who whine because mummy and daddy have only sent them 10k to last the whole year, which is unfortunate really, as they’re precisely the folk who congregated in the bar last night and delighted us with their gibbering. Not because we were stood next to them, as you might think, no, but because the shower of guffawing arseholes felt the need to bellow everything they said at full volume down the length of the pub while braying like mules.

You didn’t get up until three today and couldn’t be arsed with lectures? Really? That’s wonderful, thank you so much for sharing that insight into your listless existence, please, shout and caper some more, it is enchanting.

I think I may be more irritable than usual.

*Turn of phrase. They weren’t actually fucking, that’s what the pub toilets are for apparently. Eurgh. Imagine that. Sex in a pub toilet, that’s pure class is that.