Monthly Archives: September 2011

Facebook: Chain message special

Facebook by Tom NashI thought I’d drained Facebook for everything it was worth on this blog. In my mind, every feasible behaviour had been documented and ridiculed…

How wrong I was. Only last week, the format of the site changed, causing fuck-tons of people to start whining about this free-to-use, voluntary piece of social media like the slight tweak to the newsfeed was tantamount to a personal violation. There was so much moaning that it even started trending on Twitter. First world problems, eh?

So this post will celebrate the people that fall for those ‘copy-and-paste’ this if ________’ stauses…

Most of the time it’s the same few people doing it, but they can be categorised in the following ways:
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Dogs: Sleep, eat, crap, repeat

Dogs by Tom NashMy pet history is not a long one. The first animal I remember my family keeping were stick insects. They bred like mad, escaped and my old man ended up having to vacuum millions of them off the living room ceiling. Next it was a series of hamsters, a pair of giant African land snails (named after runners, naturally) and the occasional tank of fish, but since the age of about twelve, my home has been an animal-free zone.

That’s all changed. Now I live with both a dog and a cat. While plenty of people I know own one, the other, or both, this my first time sharing a house with either.

You know what I’ve found out?
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Cinemas: Your mobile phone on silent is fine. Just shush.

Cinema by Tom NashThe film industry likes to complain that less people are going to the cinema due to people downloading pirated movies. The same tune the music business has been whining to for some time now too. The truth is, people do still like going to the movies but between the popcorn and watered-down coke that costs a weeks pay and the amount of remakes, prequels, sequels, rehashes and formulaic Rom-Com bullshit you can figure out the plot of before the opening titles finish Hollywood insists on churning out relentlessly, it can be quite an effort to pick out the stuff that’s worthy of your hard-earned cash.

If you’ve got a big-ass telly, you can just wait till the films you want to see are out on DVD (or Blu-Ray, if you keep up with technology), then kick back with your loved one or even your missus (heh) and watch them free from irritating things you can’t control… Other people. Such as:


The personal-space invader
You’ve finally relented and agreed to take your better half to see the last Harry Potter on that random day off you somehow ended up with. Because you’ve picked some obscure time of the day to go, when you find your screen, there’s no one else there. You have the luxury of choosing the optimum seat to maximise your viewing pleasure, which you take your time doing.

As the house lights dim and the endless stream of adverts start, this fucker arrives. With the whole seating area to choose from, for some reason they decide that the best place to sit is right in front of you. Why? It’s like sitting next to someone on a bus when there’s no one else on it.

The conversation holder
At its most innocent it’s a thick child that can’t even follow the plot of a Pixar film (and it’s your own fault for going to see a film for children during the school holidays), at its most obnoxious its some selfish dickhole(s) that thinks the cinema is a glorified coffee shop (and it’s your own fault for going to see something with quotes from The Sun or Nuts on the poster). I bet it’s the same type of person that plays music on public transport… *rolls eyes and makes ‘face of disapproval’*

The person with the annoying laugh
Generally found watching shit comedies (again, no one to blame but yourself). In a room full of people laughing, these weirdos single themselves out by sounding like a donkey passing a kidney stone or something equally strange and unlikely. Once you notice it, that’s you fucked: you won’t be able to concentrate on anything else… Good luck.

The seat kicker
Again, most likely it’s an excited child. You can’t begrudge that, I mean, let’s face it- if the chair was big enough, you’d be swinging away too, it’s both fun and relaxing. No, this is the restless-legged fucker behind you who WON’T FUCKING SIT STILL.

The individually-wrapped sweet-eater
You try *RUSTLE-RUSTLE-RUSTLE* to follow *RUSTLE-RUSTLE-RUSTLE* what’s going on *RUSTLE-RUSTLE-RUSTLE* but *RUSTLE-RUSTLE-RUSTLE* Oh, forget it.

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Pubs: Who you’ll find propping up the bar

The Great British Pub by Tom NashSo that’s it. My Master’s Degree is finished. Goodbye student life. Real world… I’m ba-ack!

Of course, once all my work was handed in there was only one place to go. That’s right; the battle-cruiser. Once the hub of local communities, the public house is a dying breed. Thanks to the same corporate money-grabbing that has infected this country’s high streets and nightclubs, rather than warm welcomes, local ales and ciders and proper pub-grub, you tend to get cold stares, mass-produced fizzy-piss and microwaved roast dinners. Thank you, JD Wetherspoon.

Just think, there’s a generation of drinkers that have no idea what a meat raffle is. For shame, Great Britain. For shame.

But who frequents these places, Tom? Well…
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Parties: What to expect as an adult

Grown Up Parties by Tom NashTime for more on parties. Adult parties to be precise and I don’t mean ‘car-keys in a bowl’ or anything like that… Pervert.

What I mean is the sort of party that you would actually invite your mum to, rather than make her promise to stay upstairs or just wait till she’s gone on holiday to have.

The kind of shindig where you’d meet:
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