‘I think it’s disgraceful that people are treated in this way.’ The television broadcasts the voice and image of an angry person. A person that I recognise.
The same person who, earlier in the year, said he would like to kick a contestant on the New Age Gameshow (a gameshow for the 21st century, as the tag goes), because he was, in his words ‘a second-class midge’.
The same person who complained, in 2006, that women are dependent on their looks for social inclusion. Later that year, he laughed at Alan Smith, who bullied him at school, for ‘having an ugly girlfriend’.
The same person who got in trouble for abusing his cat. It was brought to light that he spat in its food, kicked and beat it regularly, and deprived it of water.
‘What a hypocrite’ I say, tiredly, and switch the channel.
Granted, he may be serious this time, but I think extrapolation suggests not.
I turn over the channel. A group of women are talking about their social lives.
‘The bars round here are just fabulous.’ says one of them, a woman with red hair, tied in a bun.
‘It’s just a shame,’ says a flaxen-haired woman next to her, ‘that we always wake up next to such absolute munters.’
‘It’s ok,’ says the woman opposite her, shoulder-length brown hair, ‘all you have to do is kick them out.’
‘I like to tease them’, says the blond woman, known as Maria. ‘convince them that they’re hot stuff. Always makes me giggle when they fall for it.’
‘Yeah, mingers are so sweet.’ Says the red-haired woman.
‘The thing is, they never seem like mingers at the time. It’s such a disappointment, the next day and all that.’
‘We should keep one as a pet. You know, I read the other day that men are a lot like dogs. They think on the most basic level. So why not treat them so?’
I sigh. ‘This all gets very boring’ I think.
‘Long as he’s got some money,’ says the brown-haired one. ‘yes, I think they’ll be useful to us later in life. It’s just now, it’s very frustrating having to deal with them. Totally dampens your night out.’
‘You could drink a bit less, Sheila?’ says Maria.
‘Oh sod that! I’m a paaaarrrttttyyyy guuuurrrrllllll!’ says Sheila, waving her hands in the air.
‘Well, don’t complain that you get such crap shags then.’
‘Oh it’s their fault. Just using me and all. But no worries. I soon put them in their place.’
 ‘Well, I guess you have to be drunk really.’ The red-haired lady, who we learn is known as Anne, chips in.
‘Yeah, I hate it when people say we should take responsibility. People like that are just so sad.’ says Maria.
‘They don’t just don’t realise, do they?’ says Anne. ‘They live in such a square, neo-Victorian world.’
‘No they don’t.’ says Maria, irritably.
Sheila rolls her eyes. ‘Just like Maria. The uptight one. We have the choice to treat others how we like, why should that be questioned?’
‘Exactly,’ says Anne. ‘We have the power. All these sad geeks should be listening to us.’
‘That’s right. They’re the ones who sneak into bed with us. They’re the ones who buy us drinks. We have the upper hand, and we have every right to exploit that.’
‘But anyway,’ says Anne, ‘what do you think of that dress in More at the moment?’
I know where this is going to lead, and I’m not that interested, so I switch off the TV.
I have about half an hour before it’s time to go to the pub, so I have a read of Mixmag. I read it in a dreamy kind of way, failing to take much in.

We have opted, this time, for the Plough Inn in Sidborough. At the door, we are asked to show our Ids. Jason, Fred, Tony, Chris, and Simon Evans are with me.
‘What a fucking bunch of jerks you are,’ says the bouncer. ‘you can come in anyway though. This time.’
Once we’re inside, it is clear that there aren’t that many people there.
‘Maybe they aren’t letting many people in.’ I comment.
‘Shut up, Holmes!’ retorts Evans. ‘It’s just that people lack a sense of taste, that’s all.’
We take a seat at a circular table next to one of the windows.
‘Girls in here are hot.’ remarks Tony, then suddenly puts his hand to his mouth, realising that Evans doesn’t allow him to be interested in girls.
Suprisingly though, Evans doesn’t shut him up. ‘Yeah, the door policy’s sorted that out. All the dogs will have to go to some dive now. It’s fantastic, isn’t it?’
‘For fuck’s sake, Evans,’ I retort ‘no-one is removed from the human race, you know.’
‘Well they should be!’ laughs Evans.
‘Yeah!’ concurs Jason.
Evans offers Jason a Marlboro from his packet.
‘Thanks for the offer,’ says Jason, accepting.
‘Tony?’
‘Sure.’
‘You lot aren’t going to join in are you?’ he says, contemptuously.
‘Actually I will’ I say, deciding that maybe occasional smoking is alright.
‘No, no, not for you.’
‘It’s ok every now and again.’
‘Nope, forget it. It won’t do you any good.’
‘Why do you bother yourself then?’
‘It’s essential, that’s why.’
I give up trying to argue with Evans, as it will just go on forever.
‘I’d just like to shoot that girl I slept with.’ Says Tony.
‘Shall we?’ says Evans.
‘Well, not seriously….’
‘No, no it’s a good idea. I vaguely recall the bitch. Why not?’
‘No, no, Evans, please don’t.’
‘Fuck you, Tony. You listen to me. You do what I say. You don’t do what I tell you not to do.’
‘But, Evans, I didn’t mean seriously. It’s wrong to kill someone.’
‘Shut up! Nothing’s wrong. It’s going to happen.’
I guess he must be joking. He wouldn’t seriously do something like that, would he?
‘Have you lot finished talking?’ says Jason. ‘We’ve forgotten about the drinks.’
‘Oh yes, of course!’ says Evans. ‘I’ll have a pint of Fosters please.’
I give him a look of surprise.
‘Yeah, Holmes I know. It’s just I’ve decided to be more fashionable.’
I shrug my shoulders.
‘Fred, what would you like?’
‘I’ll have a pint of Carling, please.’
‘I know which fluids you probably haven’t drunk.’ Laughs Evans.
‘There’s no need for that, Evans!’ says Jason, authoritatively.
‘Yes there is.’ Mutters Evans.
‘Tony?’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘Ok, I’ll get you a Carling.’
‘Ok. I guess that settles that.’
‘Holmes?’
After a short pause, I ask for Corona.
‘Fuck that, you’re drinking Carling with us.’
‘I’d like a Corona.’ I say, assertively.
‘You just insist on being different, don’t you? Well, it won’t be tolerated. You’re having a Carling.
‘I’d like a Corona.’ I repeat.
He looks as if he’s going to give me a kick, but decides not to.
‘Fine, but you’re going to have to buy it yourself.’
I decide simply not to buy a drink, and hope he won’t notice.
‘Chris?’
‘Tonic with lime, please, Jason.’
Jason looks at him as if he’s ordered a plate of ants. ‘You what? Bit strange, isn’t it?’
‘I’m teetotal.’
‘Well, what are you doing in the pub then, you idiot? I’ll get you a Carling as well.’
Chris waves and says ‘no, no, no’. Jason totally ignores him, and goes to the bar.
‘What’s wrong, Chris?’ says Evans.
‘I’m an alcoholic.’
‘What’s wrong with that?’
‘I’m addicted to alcohol.’
‘Sounds awesome!’ says Fred.
‘Come on, Chris, that’s the perfect excuse to have a bender!’
Chris continues to complain, until Evans put a hand onto his mouth to prevent him speaking.
‘So, that program earlier?’ says Tony.
‘The one with Jimmy McKeith? Says Fred.
‘That’s right.’
‘Awesome guy. Sticks up for human rights. I really admire him.’
‘Shame he doesn’t think much of cat rights.’ I say.
‘Oh, that’s just stuff that people do,’ laughs Tony ‘cats are our inferiors after all.’
‘I like cats!’ complains Fred.
‘Oh come on, Fred. They’re animals. You can’t seriously claim they have rights?’
At this point Jason comes back with the drinks.
Evans take his hand off Chris’s mouth, and urges him to drink.
‘No, no, no!’ Chris continues to exclaim.
‘You’ll do what you’re told.’ Commands Evans.
‘Yeah, come on, Chris.’
‘No, no, no!’
Evans leans closer to Chris. ‘We bought you a drink. You should be grateful for it.’
‘That he didn’t want’ I think of saying, but decide against it.
‘No, no, no!’
‘Well, if you don’t get it down you, we’ll beat you up.’
Chris looks round at the group. ‘This is a wind-up, isn’t it?’
‘NO IT’S NOT!’ Evans slaps the table. ‘You’d better decide which is the lesser of two evils, hadn’t you?’
Reluctantly, Chris starts drinking the pint.
‘Good, that’s sorted out, then.’ Says Evans. ‘So, I heard that Andrea’s lost some weight?’
‘She’s a dog anyway.’ Says Jason, dismissively.
‘Actually, yeah, I suppose she is.’
‘Ugly girls may as well stay chubby,’ says Tony ‘doesn’t make any difference, does it?’
‘It’s still a health issue,’ says Fred ‘besides, it makes some difference.’
‘No-one looks at the mantelpiece while they’re stoking the furnace, I guess.’ says Jason.
‘That’s wasn’t the point I was trying to make.’ Says Fred.
‘Well, yeah, to be honest, it’s an injustice that mingers get sex at all.’ Says Evans. ‘We don’t want them reproducing, do we?’
Fred gives up at this point. Chris has now finished his pint.
‘More,’ he says ‘more, more, more!’
‘You, see, I knew he’d enjoy it’ says Jason. ‘What would you like, Chris?’
‘Drink.’ Says Chris.
‘Sod it, I’ll get you another Carling.’
‘Yes, yes, yes!’
‘You see, I knew he enjoys it really.’
No-one says anything while Jason orders the drink. I look around me. The group do, in fact, seem incredibly bored. It’s as if they’re performing some act, rather than socialising genuinely. In the distance is the usual mixture of groups, couples, and occasional individuals. What grips my attention the most is a tall man, shoulder-length brown hair, in a cowboy hat and all black, who is scrutinising Jason. He seems like he doesn’t trust Jason, and is prepared to confront him.
‘Self-righteous fucks without any vices, they’re the people I can’t stand….’ says Jason, when he comes back with Chris’s drink.
‘It might not be self-righteousness.’ I interject.
‘Well I don’t care what the reason is. They really should join in, sad fucks.’
‘And besides,’ says Evans ‘who wants to be right anyway? What matters is what your peers think of you.’
‘It does in some situations’ I admit ‘but if someone’s right, they’re right. Crowd behaviour won’t change that.’
‘It’s just so lonely though.’ Complains Evans. ‘I’d rather do what I’m told.’
‘No, no, Evans, that’s not the idea.’ Says Jason ‘You rebel against the herd… by doing what you’re told.’
‘You never have to practice what you preach of course,’ says Fred, ‘which makes it all even cooler.’
‘I never knew you were rebellious.’ I say, interested.
‘Oh yes, big time’ says Evans. ‘Smash the system!’
‘What will we replace it with, that’s the question?’ asks Jason.
‘Sod that! Doesn’t matter.’ Says Evans.
Chris has, by now, finished his pint.
'We don't need to replace it. We can change things...' he begins.
Jason clenches his fists and prepares to lash out at Chris, but Evans restrains him.
‘Just get him drunk. That’ll shut him up.’
Jason goes to the bar to get another drink.
‘Great atmosphere in here.’ Says Tony.
‘You sure?’ asks Fred.
‘Oh yes. Love it. This is the way the pub should be.’
They proceed to talk about television shows that I don’t know about.
Jason comes back.
‘I’m sick of this. People are so shallow. It must be something in the culture.’
‘Ah, don’t be so ridiculous,’ says Evans ‘people are just being realistic.’
I have to agree that I have always found people who complain about shallowness rather dubious. They tend to be hiding their own shallowness, which makes it worse.
‘Who’s annoyed you?’ asks Tony.
‘That guy at the bar. Going on about hot totty. That’s just objectifying people, isn’t it? It’s disgusting.’
‘At least there aren’t any mingers in here. Anyway, being hot is the purpose for which women exist.’
‘I wasn’t talking about women. I was talking about people. Guys are under this pressure as well now. You just can’t go anywhere without being rated. It really pisses me off.’
‘It is not shallow to be attracted to someone.’ I say, in a bored way.
‘Yes it is! It fucking is! Are you thinking about their personality or their tits? Are you in love with them? We need to have deep, meaningful, relationships with each other. This whole singleton culture doesn’t help. Too many single people these days. It makes people airheaded.’
‘Being single’s cool. Gives you freedom.’
‘No, sod all this freedom. We should be thinking beyond all this materialistic shite. We need to think about the core values, not what the latest celebrity does, or what the latest fad is.’
‘The party’s over for you, isn’t it?’ Evans laughs.
Chris has by now finished his drink. We decide to move on somewhere else.
‘Let’s go to Storm.’ Suggests Evans.
‘Storm? Have to be pretty good-looking to get in there,’ says Jason ‘still, I guess I’ll manage it.’
‘Actually, that’s a thought. I don’t think this motley crew is going to make it in. Especially Tony. And shut up, Jason. You can’t even compare with me.’
Tony gives the middle finger to Evans. Defiantly, he says: ‘I’ll go there as well, just to piss you off.’
‘Fuck off!’ says Evans. ‘You’re not coming anywhere near the place, fucking mug! Go home to your little computer and wank off to porn.’
He storms off, then turns round to the group and says: ‘If anyone except Tony wishes to join us, we’ll be there, obviously.’
Tony is getting angry with Evans trying to control him, something that we can all sense.
He turns to Fred. ‘I’m going.’ He says ‘And there’s not a thing he can do about it.’
‘But he’ll kill you!’
‘Not when in the club he won’t. I’ll just go in when he’s not around.’
‘Oooh! Very daring.’
‘Oh fuck it. He’s just an arsehole. All talk.’
‘What about what he did with Chris?’
‘That was all talk as well. As if he’d really beat Chris up.’
‘Admittedly I’ve never seen him get violent. I still wouldn‘t like to go against him though. Not worth the risk.’
‘You coming, Holmes?’
‘Nah, it’s alright. I can’t be bothered.’
‘You can’t be bothered to go to Storm? It’s an exclusive nightclub, mate. You’d be missing out on a great opportunity.’
‘No, it’s fine. I’m really…. tired.’ I despise lying, but this is in fact true so it’s a good reason to use.
‘No-one’s too tired to come to Storm. You can’t miss out on something like that.’
‘No, seriously. I’m just not interested. Goodbye.’
‘Are you mental?’
‘I think I’m going to nod off right now. Anyway, I’m going. Bye for now.’
Tony stares at me in disbelief, while Fred shrugs his shoulders.
‘Suit yourself.’ He says.
‘I just can’t believe that,’ Tony says, ‘I just can’t believe it, can’t believe it, can’t believe it…’
Eventually I become too distant from them to take in their conversation, but I suspect that Tony is still saying ‘I can’t believe it’.
I proceed down Fort Goldfax Street as usual. There is virtually no-one around tonight. I find the atmosphere eerie and pleasant at the same time.
A group of drunks shout at me, in a language I don’t understand, so in annoyance I cross to the other side of the road. They stare at me but continue on their way.
Just when I’m about to turn the corner, I notice someone lying on the ground next to the trees. I take a closer look to see that they’re alright. A broken bottle of wine lies next to them. The wine has seeped into the ground, looking somewhat like a pool of blood.
It seems, on reflection, that they’ve probably drunk too much and passed out so I carry on my way back home.
On arriving, I’m close to passing out myself, but I make it to bed. I realise I haven’t had anything to eat, but there’s no way I’m doing anything about that now. I fall into a deep sleep.