Wednesday, 16 November 2011

The Art Of Conversation

What would have been a great evening in the pub last night was ruined, when a group of spotty students, brandishing their latest Blackberry mobile phones, decided to amuse themselves by reading out loud their text messages and e-mails, much to the annoyance of Tony, me, and the rest of the pub.
Tony reckons that communicating by text has helped kill off the art of conversation, and if God had intended us to speak to one another by sending such pointless, fucking messages, why the hell did he give us a mouth and vocal chords?
Once again, my obese and highly volatile friend seems to have a point, and I can't help agreeing with him when he says that listening to somebody reading out the contents of their mail in-box, very loudly, in a pub, shouldn't have to be tolerated by decent, non hard-working, idle bastards like us.
Sid, the landord of our favourite pub, told Tony that if felt like beating the students senseless, he was prepared to allow him to, because not only were they very childish, with their stupid girly laughs, but they also complained about the quality of the lager that Sid served them.
Fortunately, however, Tony said that although physical violence may have been an ideal way to rid the pub of the Blackberry-wielding youths, he simply turned his back on the crowd, saying that his anger-management therapist has taught him to accept that spotty students are sadly a fact of life.
Now, I know I've said it a hundred times before, but I'll say it again: I'LL DRINK TO THAT!

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