The Hipster Diaries...

After years of close observation, I believe that I have worked out the intricacies within the mind of a hipster.

          Banana                     Masterpiece

Here is my most recent observation. To those who are thinking 'these two pictures are exactly the same apart from a change in contrast in the second one', you are grossly uncultured/just go back to your hole that isn't in Shoreditch. The second one is obviously a fine specimen of my phone's lomography effect which just happens to be a free app as money is so overrated. One button and BAM give your photos a nostalgic dirty feel which is so reminiscent of individualistic anti-modernism. Yeah, that is an actual thing your hayters (I like to alter my spelling by adding unnecessary letters to words because I'm a convention defying bad-ass).

  Pre-Pubescent Ear Vomit                               Masterpiece
                                        

There has been a dramatic growth in vinyl sales this year. This means one thing- the hipsters have realised that it is kitsch and are therefore cashing in. To those out there who are not well acquainted with the world of hipsters, this is not just two versions of one album. Oh no, a vinyl carries with it a certain prestige, almost enough to compensate for the fact that you don't own a vinyl player. There's nothing better than imagining the faint crackle of imagined music you pretentious prat.

The Presidential disgRace...

Dear America,

I feel like I should just sit here and watch you all suffer after you brewed our tea in your lake (although I do find that it says a lot when we British solve our problems by depositing large amounts of caffeine in our bodies, not in lakes because we're a rational nation), but I have decided to bury the hatchet.

I am starting to believe that you would vote for a packet of crisps if it was wrapped in the promise of irrelevant bible quotes, homophobia, tax reduction and of course, saturated fat. For those of you who are in possession of a brain, I recommend that you attain a love for maple syrup and hockey fast so that you have something to ease the pain acquired from the loss of faith in humanity when you are forced to emigrate to Canada due to the repugnant stench of a growing Santorum fan base. I don't mean to be harsh, and I know you're a family man Rick, but you are truly a moron. Give my best to the wife and seven kids who you mention at the start of every campaign in order to squeeze votes out of those who care.

Please, refrain from being the idiots of the international community, again. It's bad enough that you allow the existence of capital punishment, Fox News... and the Kardashians. Obama is the only sane candidate out there. And he can sing - I'm not saying that George Michael could run our country, (although I wouldn't mind the inclusion of pelvic thrusts into our legislation) but it definitely makes him a cool president Rick Santorum is a fundaMENTAList.

Yours sincerely,

The UK

My Not So Funny Valentine...

Bitterness is a strong word. I would call it 'dry humour blanketed in painful not-so-ironic' irony.

Don't get me wrong, I am very happy for all those out there who celebrate their love/emotional drivel (only joking, but not really) together on a daily basis. However, I think I speak on behalf of all those 'Single Ladies' (shut up, Beyonce, the only reason you're celebrating being a 'Single Lady' is because you are a millionaire, you're happily married and you have a body like a a god) when I say Valentine's day is an excuse to listen to Adele whilst lying face down and crying at your several cats, only to realise by their angry shivers that your love is not reciprocated. Even inanimate objects awkwardly avoid eye contact.

Valentine's day creates a massive chasm in the self-esteem of many. It is nothing but a cosmic bitch-slap of a day, forcing many people to abuse the ability to eat and leaving many of us with stomachs the size of the world of loneliness in our hearts. My advice to all you singletons out there? Watch the Notebook, whilst listening to Joni Mitchell and reading Sylvia Plath. That is a killer combination.