I was on the bus this afternoon, the 57 bus, returning from Wimbledon town. The bus was pretty empty…. that was until we picked up every Wimbledon school boy in a 10 mile radius. Surrounded by a bunch of snotty youngsters, who obviously believed it was very trendy to tie their school ties with the smallest windsor knot imaginable, I couldn’t help but eavesdrop on their conversation.
Snot 1: “What you wearing to Charlie’s party this weekend?”
Snot 2: “My mum got me a red Grandpa’s top. It’s well cool.”
Snot 1: “Well cool. I got two of those, one white one and one green one.”
Snot 2: “Yeah they well cool.”
If I had said I was wearing a Grandpa’s top to my mate’s party when I was a lighty I would have gotten the sh%t kicked out of me and then some. Grandpa’s tops are now cool. Cardigans are well cool.
The shocking news was still to come though.
Snot 2 announces to Snot 1 and other snots: “Alex and me are going for Brazilians this weekend.”
Silence. Say what? I tried not to stare. Surely not. Does he mean a Brazilian wax?
Snot 1 answers far to excitedly: “NO WAY! Well cool. Can I come?“
Snot 2: “Sorry mate, it’s just me and Alex. We having our sack and crack done.”
Snot 1 is very envious. “Well cool. What about your back?”
Snot 2: “Nah. I don’t have any hair there.”
No sh%t you don’t have any hair there.
You’re like 15!