I’m early, but that’s nothing new, and im sitting in a pub, again nothing new. Forced to listen to the bland student rock is dribbling out of the speakers “Ikea rock” my friend Johnny Enigma calls it.

I’m writing this because it’s the third least mental thing a person on there own in a pub can do, the second is read and first is play with your mobile phone. Next time your in a pub check it out, unless they’re a complete head case or balls out drunk they will be doing one of the three.

I’m surrounded by a “wacky” student pub crawl, you know the thing; t-shirts with a printed itinerary and about forty drunk students pretending they wouldn’t rather be home watching “The Bill” with they’re mom, as far as I’m concerned if you need your pub crawls organised weeks in advance and marshalled by bored third years, you really don’t deserve to be out drinking.

Oh no! A fresh wave are coming in, I hate them, I hate there customised “unique” T-shirts, I hate there brightly shone hope filled faces, I hate there wallets filled with there parents’ money, I hate there podgy faced girlfriends that they’re cheating on back home, I hate that there downing alcopops like is some sort of achievement in worldly coolness.

More a coming in, I’m being fucking swamped, the bar staff are flapping and smell of mid range perfume and teenage erections is getting to be overpowering, its getting ugly in here, my guess is that they’re all leaving soon, it’s a heavy bet to make because if I’m wrong I am pretty sue I will flip out and kill one of the prettier ones with a hammer. My friend is still late, I hate him the most and am giving serious thought into fucking his ass with a cactus.

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