Tuesday, October 11, 2005

On Hippies

On Hippies

Kids! Don’t end up a hippy. It’s wrong and only causes grief for your family and friends. Terrible, heart-rending grief, caused, in the main, by hippies who are worse than any terrorist organization on the planet, causing havoc and destruction just by being utterly useless.

My best friend Martin turned into a hippy.

* Unexplained access to large quantities of booze and doobage, despite having no money whatsoever

* Funny smell
* Kaftan, the fashion sense of a sheep (see 'funny smell')
* Liking for shit music and bands with names like 'Chocolate Teapot'
* Learning that, for me, the drugs don’t work (or, as I suspect, the “grass” was pulled from some bugger’s garden, and everybody else was simply pretending to be wrecked to save face)
* “I’m learning the guitar”
* Giving up the guitar and “I’m learning the bongos”
* Unconscious for about 80% of the time
* Having to do his A-Level computer science project for him so he might have a job to go to when he finally came to. He did. He's a gardener.

Hippies: No.

Also: My mate Martin the Hippie paid six hundred quid of his dad's money (“Son – why haven’t you got a job?” “I went to all the record shops and WH Smiths and they didn’t have any”) to go on some sort of hippy get-your-head-together course he'd seen advertised in some fanzine.

Basically, he, and a few other gullible twits were sat in an old, leaking barn with no food or cigarettes for a weekend and told, repeatedly, "Everybody is perfect in their own imperfect way." After 48 hours of this sensory depravation, he would have believed anything, and returned to the world a disciple of the Cult of Useless.

It was such a wonderful scam, a few of us seriously considered running one of these courses ourselves. Who’s with me? There’s money to be made, and students and shit-faced drop-outs to fleece.

I will give an actual, real-life prize to the person who can correctly guess the link between yesterday’s post and today’s. Oh yes.

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