8.15 to Manchester!!
Well actually it was an 8.15 start in Manchester for a continuation of a training course. After a few ice cold lager beers last night a Greggs was the order of the day. I realise that things must become habitual (and the law has to be obeyed: if people are eating in house they have to pay more) but did the woman serving the man before me in the queue really need to ask him if the pack of four oven bottom muffins was to eat in or take away? I really hope one day I will see someone eat a packet of uncut, plain oven bottom muffins inside a Greggs.
Broken Britain Pt1
As I walk up Market Street in the rain I heard a car screech and then blast its horn. The girl who had walked across the road when the lights were on green was laughing into her phone. She had been asked what the noise was, “It’s just some car beeping me because it nearly hit me.” Broken fucking Britain. I remember the good old days when nearly getting hit by a car used to provoke a brief period of relief that they weren’t dead. It’ll be that Twitter that’s to blame.
Broken Britain Pt2
There was a lad telling another lad about a new app in the changing rooms ahead of football tonight. They were gym people so I wasn’t part of the conversation. I was just eavesdropping. I really think that the lad was saying the thing was called snatch. But I’ve looked and I can’t find one called snatch.
From what I was overhearing it seemed like the lad was talking about something Vine-like. For the uninitiated Vine is an online video sharing application where people upload 10-second videos in a kind of video-Twitter kind of way. He was showing the lad the kind of video his friends put on. It was just girls going blaaaaeeeuuugh and laughing. He showed him about seven variations of this.
The other lad nodded and walked off and said he might try it. And the lad shouted back, “it’s top for banter.” If I wasn’t already sure this was a crushingly shit thing then I was now. If anything is described as being good in the frame of reference of banter than it’s clearly fucking wank.
Tim Lovejoy is the king of banter and he’s a fucking prick.