Let's get this out there first and foremost: I don't like most St Andrews students. Obviously I get on with the ones I actively socialise with, but for the most part the others are insufferable cunts. If you live in St Andrews, you know the type, 'Rar rar rar, Daddy owns a yacht.' Self entitlement dripping out their Jack Wills wearing arseholes. Anyway, this is one encounter I had with some wankhole fresher on a night out. (If you're a St Andrews student and reading this, I assume that's because we get on, otherwise I wouldn't have given you the link. Therefore, sleep easy, I do not think you are a cunt. Currently.)
So Laurence and I are doing our usual St Andrews night out of crawling round a few pubs before hitting the Vic. When we finally get to the Vic, there is a queue to get in. 'No worries, we're all civilised people here, and understand how such a vital pillar of British society such as the queue functions.' I thought to myself. So we get pretty much to the front of the queue, with one guy stood in front of us when I hear someone behind me say, in one of those really grating American accents, (I like American accents, but you know that one one that just hurts to listen to? Yeah, that one.) 'Don't worry girls, I got this.' I am then unceremoniously pushed aside by some 'It' girl moron and her whore friends. 'You most certainly don't got this, bitch.' 'You do realise there's a queue here?' I say. A polite opening gambit, but with just enough malice that you'd know shit's going to go down if you don't get back in line. She doesn't even deign to respond, instead giving me one of those derisive laugh/look me up and down combos that people like that do.
Now, I would like to consider myself a pretty 'chill' individual. It takes quite a lot to rile me up, but there are one or two things that will piss me off almost instantly. One of those is when a mother fucker cuts in line. Unfortunately for this idiot fresher, the one thing that will sure fire fuck me off in a second flat, especially when drunk, is that little fucking snort laugh 'who the fuck do you think you are talking to me?' look that girls do when they think they're better than you. So the red mist comes down, and this bitch is about to have a very bad night. This scene from Super (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=APfYfZm5f6Q) plays out in my head and I start to regret the fact I don't own a wrench.
'Hey bitch, get the fuck back in line or i'll fucking cut you!' 'Wow, really? That's a bit harsh, no?' She gives me another snort laugh look thing. 'Woah woah woah, back the fuck up. Twice? The snort laugh thing. Twice!? If I was the kind of mentally unstable person that carries a knife around with them, shit would be going south at a rate of knots right about now.' 'Hey, I'm fucking talking to you! You think you're one of those, 'ooo, i'm so pretty, I can get what ever I want just by flashing my eyelids' girls, aren't you? Well you wouldn't be so pretty if I cut your fucking face!' .'Classy, real classy there Thomas. Nice one.' 'Actually, the bouncer's my boyfriend.' 'Ooo, I'm so scared. Except for the fact I've known that bouncer for three years you stupid cow! HAHAHAHA, trump card, bitch! You can't call my bluff in St Andrews, this is my home turf you dumb mother fucker! And also, like fuck someone like you would let yourself be seen dead with a fat fuck like him' (Don't get me wrong, I love that guy, but he is pretty large.) 'Is he fuck your boyfriend.' 'Yeah, he totally is.' 'Well, if he's your boyfriend, kiss him.' 'Errrm.....' 'If he's your fucking boyfriend, kiss him.' 'You're an asshole. I didn't want to get into this club anyway.' and with that she walks off. 'That'll teach you to cut in line! FUCK YOU! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!'
'Wow dude, that was a bit harsh, don't you think.' pipes up some old bloke stood next to me in the queue. 'Nope, most of these pricks think they own the place anyway, you let them away with something like cutting in line and the next thing you know these mother fuckers will be hunting you for sport. Got to teach them their place.' My gaze falls upon the guy stood in front of me in the queue, who is now cowering slightly. 'You're a student, aren't you?' 'Yes,' says his mouth 'Please don't fucking kill me' says his eyes. I lean down so we're eye to eye. 'But you know your fucking place. See, you guys own this town. That's a fact, this town literally loses 75% of it's business when you twats aren't kicking around. But you try bringing that 'we own the town' bullshit into our pubs, we'll have a falling out. Try bring that 'I'm so important, I own this town' attitude into somewhere like the Keys. You'll go home in a body bag, mark my words.' I look down to check my phone or some shit, 'So anyway, what's your name?' I look back up and the nameless student is running for his life down the street. Oops.
So, surprise surprise, we don't get let in to the Vic. They said it's because it was full, but I reckon the fact I'd threatened to stab someone in the queue probably had something to do with it.
The End.
I realise this was a bit of a diatribe, but I really, really don't like St Andrews students. (That's a sweeping generalisation, I don't like the 'yas', it's just easier to say St Andrews students, because that's their stereotype.)
But on the brightside, at least now you know not to get me started about living in St Andrews.
No comments:
Post a Comment