Skip to main content

Needless posturing

Bah, possibly also humbug.

Contrary to the childish posturing of the posts below I am not constantly at odds with existence for no reason other than to be a reactionary bastard. I mean, I am, a bit, but not overly proud of it, kind of teenage really. You'd think I'd have grown out of that sort of entry-level bile by now, but sadly not, it's a cross we'll just all have to bear.

That said, I was perturbed by today's G2, which posed the question why do people loathe hipsters so? Full article here, for what it's worth. Now, I can have a wild stab as to why, and on first read I chortled merrily as I gently stroked my own prejudices to tumescence. But after a while I got to thinking (I was chopping veg for piccalilli, and that sort of exercise does tend to lend one a fugue-like state), surely to define oneself as anti-hipster is in essence as much of a pose as being a shoreditch twat itself? Now don't get me wrong, I have very little time for irritating, trilby-wearing little trustie fuckpigs (as I may have noted before), in much the same way as I have very little time for impetigo. But, by and large, most of them appear to be little 'uns, and I imagine they'll probably grow out of it. I experienced a deep, though fleeting, moment of shame at my inability to rise above this, followed by a longer sensation of abiding worry that the grauniad thought this worthy of an article, even in G2, which truly is the devil's shitbucket of half-arsed ideas.

So here I sit, a welter of pity for the despised kids, regret that I've just spent a portion of my life even considering the issue and deep, deep worry that I've moved beyond the stage where I give a fuck about any sort of lifestyle piece and am clearly one step nearer the grave. Possibly I should just steer clear of G2; the crossword's far too easy these days anyway, bloody kids.

Oh alright, I'll still read Marina Hyde then, she knows how to do snark. But dear god, don't get me started on the cookery articles. Wrong, wrong and thrice wrong, trust me on this. Hmm, possibly I'm overthinking this. Might stop now, just as well. Christ, are you still here?

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

To all intents and purposes, a bloody great weed.

I absolutely love trees, and I get quite irate when they get cut down. One of the aspects of life with which I most often find myself most at odds with my fellow man is that I'm not really a fan of the tidy garden. I like to see a bit of biodiversity knocking about the gaff, and to that end I welcome the somewhat overgrown hedge, am pro the bit of lawn left to run riot, and, most of all, very anti cutting down trees. I love the things, habitat, provider of shade, easy on the eye, home to the songbirds that delight the ear at dawn, the best alarm clock of all. To me, cutting a naturally growing tree down is an act of errant vandalism, as well as monumental entitlement, it's been around longer than you. So, this being the case, let me say this. The public outcry over the felling of the tree at Sycamore Gap is sentimental, overblown nonsense, and the fact that the two men found guilty of it have been given a custodial sentence is completely insane. Prison? For cutting down a Sycam...

Oh! Are you on the jabs?

I have never been a slender man. No one has ever looked at me and thought "oh, he needs feeding up". It's a good job for me that I was already in a relationship by the early noughties as I was never going to carry off the wasted rock star in skinny jeans look. No one has ever mistaken me for Noel Fielding. This is not to say that I'm entirely a corpulent mess. I have, at various times in my life, been in pretty good shape, but it takes a lot of hard work, and a lot of vigilance, particularly in my line of work, where temptation is never far away. Also, I reason, I have only one life to live, so have the cheese, ffs. I have often wondered what it would be like to be effortlessly in good nick, to not have to stop and think how much I really want that pie (quite a lot, obviously, pie is great), but I've long since come to terms with the fact that my default form is "lived-in". I do try to keep things under control, but I also put weight on at the mere menti...

Inedible

"He says it's inedible" said my front of house manager, as she laid the half-eaten fish and chips in front of me, and instantly I relaxed.  Clearly, I observed, it was edible to some degree. I comped it, because I can't be arsed arguing the toss, and I want to make my front of house's lives as simple as possible. The haddock had been delivered that morning. The fryers had been cleaned that morning. The batter had been made that morning (and it's very good batter, ask me nicely and I'll give you the recipe some time). The fish and chips was identical to the other 27 portions I'd sent out on that lunch service, all of which had come back more or less hoovered up, we have have a (justified, if I do say so myself) very good reputation for our chips. But it was, apparently, "inedible". When it comes to complaints, less is more. If you use a hyperbolic word like that, I'll switch off, you've marked yourself as a rube, a chump, I'm not g...