#oneaday, Day 277: Boobies

The title of this post was suggested to me as I was suffering slight writers’ block due to being in a room with a number of other people, some of whom are playing Modern Warfare 2, others of whom are listening to the Mortal Kombat soundtrack. Which, in itself, is pretty awesome, but isn’t exactly the most conducive environment for nurturing the best of one’s creativity. The post itself will not be about boobies. Unless I really can’t think of anything else to write about.

Mmm, boobies… Sorry, where was I?

So I thought I’d go a bit stream-of-consciousy for tonight. I haven’t done that for a while. This isn’t proper full-on freewriting, ’cause I’m not starting the timer and writing for a set number of minutes. But I am writing things as they come into my head. Which is nice. It also means that I might go off on something of a tangent as I – oh look, there’s a badger with a gun, do you see?

I am currently drinking grape soda, which I’m sure I have had before and liked but had forgotten quite how much it tasted like Calpol – the nice purple stuff you have when you’re a little kid, not the foul and disgusting pink stuff you get when you’re over the age of six (the imaginatively-named “Calpol Six-Plus”, fact fans). For those of you reading in American, Calpol was, for a long time (and possibly still) the generic “cure-all” medicine for children. I have no idea what was in it that made boo-boos go away, but for kids it is very much the equivalent of the fantasy RPG “cure-all potion” that restores hit points and, if it’s a fancy-pants version that costs more than 50 gold a time, sometimes cures status effects.

What was I saying? Nothing much at all, really. This is perhaps not my best work. But, you know, you work with what you’ve got. And I’m currently full of pizza and Calpol-flavoured fizzy stuff, surrounded by people I like very much indeed and so frankly, I’m more than happy with this post reflecting the pleasant feelings of “Ahh…” that I’m enjoying right at this moment. Regular followers of this blog since I started the whole #oneaday thing will know that it’s been quite a while since I’ve been able to really sit back, enjoy myself and make a contented-sounding noise like “Ahh…” so I’m damn well going to enjoy it.

I may be broke, unemployed and not exactly in the position I envisaged being in at this stage of my life. But, you know, for the moment? I can deal with it. Things could be worse – things have been worse – so I’m pleased to say that this could well be that downward spiral taking a turn for the better. If spirals can indeed take turns for the better.

You know what I mean. You reach rock bottom, you have to start climbing back out again sometime. So onwards and upwards it is, and thank you to those people who have made it possible. You know who you are.

Now there are games to play and Calpol to drink. Night night.

#oneaday, Day 272: Person LF Person

People are funny things, aren’t they? You’d think there would be infinite possibilities, infinite combinations out there. But the fact that it’s possible through psychological testing to boil people down (not literally) into various categories based on whether they are introverted or extroverted, compassionate or twattish and, I don’t know, whether they like Chinese food or not, suggests otherwise.

And so it is that you come across people who are Your Kind of People. People who are Your Kind of People can appear at any time in the wild. For introverts like me, it’s sometimes difficult to find them as finding new people inevitably involves putting yourself out there a bit and actually talking to strangers. Scariness. Unless you have an appropriate context in which to start talking to new people. Perhaps you’ve been exchanging messages online. Perhaps someone you know is introducing you. Perhaps you’re at a social occasion for some mutual friends. Perhaps it’s a new job. Perhaps you get the idea by now and I can stop giving examples.

It’s sometimes difficult to define what Your Kind of People are. Is it to do with interests? Personality? Physical appearance? Whether or not they stink of cabbage? Well, in my experience, the answer to this is “yes”. All of those things are contributing factors in the complex equation that determines whether someone else is Your Kind of Person or not. And someone being Your Kind of Person doesn’t necessarily mean that you’re attracted to them, although this can and does happen. In which case you end up dating someone who is Your Kind of Person, which is pretty much an ideal situation to be in for everyone involved.

I am very pleased that over the last few days I have met several people who are My Kind of People. The reasons for each of them being My Kind of People are varied, but they’re all people that I feel very comfortable and happy hanging out with. People who I feel understand me, or if they don’t understand me now may well be in a position to say “Yes, I understand Pete perfectly” at some point in the future. People with whom I share some interests. People that I enjoy the company of. People who are, in short, pretty damn awesome.

It’s always a pleasant feeling when this happens. You don’t get a positive Moodlet in The Sims 3 for making a new friend for no reason, after all. Finding new people to spend time with is always good, particularly if they are people that you don’t feel you have to compromise the person you are in order to be with. People that you can be comfortable with and let out the side of yourself that sometimes stays hidden in polite society. (And I’m not talking about the side of you that might like to wear nappies or do inappropriate things involving poo or pieces of ginger. That side is probably best to keep hidden until you’re absolutely sure that Your Kind of People share said interests.)

So, I’m having a very lovely weekend when all’s said and done. I hope you are too.

#oneaday, Day 264: Cupid Rules OK

OKCupid! is a fascinating site. Even if you’re not looking for a potential partner, soulmate or someone to shout “gief cyb0r plz” at, I’d encourage you to take a look at it for the simple reason that the site itself is pretty unique when it comes to the world of social networking, finding friends and dating.

If you’ve ever dipped a toe into the murky waters of online dating, you’ll know that most sites are 1) filled with people who are apparently far more attractive than you (but in fact are either using a fake photo or a very good photographer) and 2) demand that you give them vast quantities of cash every month for the privilege of being able to actually talk to anyone. Fair enough if they work; certain places like match.com even offer a money-back guarantee if you can’t find yourself someone to talk to on their network. There’s also that interminable string of “OMG! GET LAID WITH GIRLS IN [insert location from your IP address here] TONIGHT!!” that you get on some of the Internet’s less salubrious sites. But the less said about them the better.

No, OKCupid takes a different tack by first of all being free to use. Marvellous. Second of all, rather than relying on people searching via simple criteria (“I am looking for a woman aged 25-35 in the Outer Hebrides”) it does some rather clever profiling of your personality via a bank of approximately five bajillion “match questions”, some of which are “official”, but many of which have been submitted by other users. All of them are multiple choice, and all of them require you to not only put your own answer, but the answer you’d like your ideal partner/friend/fuckbuddy to put, too. And they don’t have to match. Perhaps you’re spoiling for a fight, so you put that you like immigrants, but you’d rather your ideal match were a card-carrying Daily Mail reader with borderline racist tendencies. Or perhaps you want to find someone who will never, ever argue with you about anything, ever. In which case you put that your ideal partner/friend/fuckbuddy should answer the same as you, and that it is MANDATORY (like the sex party) that they do this. And you won’t accept anything less. No sir.

Anyway, the upshot of all this is that the site builds what is probably a pretty accurate psychological profile of you and, as such, allows you to find people who you’re likely to “click” with fairly quickly. It’s pretty remarkable in the way it works, and it’s surprising to see how accurate a picture of your personality it can build from these questions. And of course, the more you answer, the more accurate said picture becomes.

Not only that, though, but the site also does stuff like tracks how likely people are to respond to unsolicited messages. So that hottie you have your eye on may only have a 5% response rate, in which case your declarations of a desire for a night of wild and steamy passion will probably fall on deaf ears. Or at least ears that will go “ugh” and block you promptly.

All that for free, while the sites out there that demand your credit card information to even get you to sign up still cling to the old ways. Why not go on over and find out a little something about yourself? You might even make some awesome new friends. “AND MAYBE MORE!!” as the saying has it.

For the curious, these are my Sims-style personality traits based on the 389 questions I’ve answered so far. (It’s super-quick to answer questions using the convenient iPhone app. Also, I get bored at night-time.)

From left to right, said icons indicate that I am less aggressive than average, less ambitious, less compassionate (not sure I’d agree with that one), more attentive, more pessimistic, less spiritual, more loving and more scientific. The magic robots have spoken. That is me. Until I answer some more questions and prove them wrong, of course. Apparently I need to grind my spirituality and compassion stats a bit.

#oneaday, Day 257: Away Message

I’m away for the weekend. Specifically, I’m attending the Eurogamer Expo, the UK’s answer to gaming conventions like PAX. It’s been running for a good few years now apparently but I only really became aware of it this year. I decided to attend, as I thought it’d be a good opportunity to get hands-on with some of the latest hotness that I’d missed out on at PAX, as well as catch up with a few friends from Twitter.

Eurogamer Expo has a way to go yet before it can even think about competing with PAX in terms of scale, but it’s certainly got potential. There are plenty of high-profile companies in attendance with their big games, and tickets sold out completely, so people are certainly interested in events like this. They need to sort out their non-existent press provision and look at more in the way of “special events” to make it a truly excellent gaming convention, though. Some evening concerts wouldn’t go amiss; or more in the way of the few developer talks and presentations that they do have already.

Day 1 has so far passed in a most pleasant manner and I am looking forward to tomorrow. I wrote an article about Fable III today, you should totally go and read it, as it’s awesome. Here’s the rest of the day in one-word summary format:

Assassin’s Creed Brotherhood Multiplayer: Tense.
Killzone 3: Loading.
Killzone 3 in 3D: Migraine.
Gran Turismo 5 in 3D: Cardboard.
Peter Molyneux: Entertaining.
Fable III: Amusing.
Dead Space 2: Frightening!
Gears of War 3 Beast Mode: Multiplayer?
Fallout: New Vegas: Fallout.
Saw II: Bloody.
3DTV: NO.
Rock Band 3: Realistic.
@jenjeahaly: Yay!
@shoinan: Fun!
@lewisdenby: Brief!
@LinkYeah: Freshers.
Eurogamer’s press provision: Horseshit.
Being told off for taking a coffee while wearing the wrong wristband: Bewildering.
That redhead girl I saw at one point: WOW.
Tonight: Surprise!

So that was my day. Tomorrow will be another day and hopefully I’ll get a chance to try out a lot of the things I didn’t get to see today. There’s a lot of really good-looking games on offer, most of which will be well familiar to people who went to PAX, in all likelihood. Fable III in playable form was the big deal for those who like that sort of thing, and it’s looking lovely. Peter Molyneux’s talk on the history of the Fable series and its influences from movies and games was particularly interesting, as you’ll know already if you’ve read this like I suggested earlier.

It was great to finally put a face to some Twitter usernames, too, and meet a few new ones as well. Hopefully over the next couple of days there’ll be more of that until we’re all one nice big happy games-loving family of awesomeness.

And, of course, tonight. Surprising a very dear friend was totally worth it. Even if I got called a few rude names along the way.

For now, I bid you good night.

#oneaday, Day 240: Making your Mark

It’s odd (and not a little morbid) to think about the things that you leave behind that people might remember you by. Those little marks you make on the world, whether they’re physical marks scrawled on a toilet door with permanent marker pen, mental marks left in the mind of people or now, technological marks, too.

There’ll always be a little trace of me left in Southampton thanks to largely-pointless but fun geotagging app Gowalla. When I first downloaded said app, there weren’t many people using it but I liked the idea of it. Go out, walk around, “collect” places. If nothing else, it was a nice way of building yourself your own custom tourist map of a place.

So on more than one occasion, I went out for a walk with the specific intention of creating a bunch of Spots around Southampton. This became something of an obsession, with the vast majority of Spots around the city centre being created by me. General way of telling: if it has a lengthy and slightly sarcastic description, or is the kind of thing you wouldn’t find on a typical tourist map (such as “The Pedestrian Crossing That Makes The Funny Noise”), it was probably created by me.

Now, as pointless as Gowalla is in many respects, there are many reasons why it’ll always hold a fond place in my heart. Firstly, as I say, it’s been my way to leave my mark on Southampton. I “found” these places and tagged them the way I wanted them to be tagged. This means that Greggs on East Street will forever be remembered as “fine dining for chavs”. At least until they realise and ask politely for the description to be changed. Which, let’s face it, they probably won’t.

But the second reason is that my wandering around, creating these spots, marking my territory (as it were… albeit with less piss than is usually implied by that phrase) caused me to meet one of my dearest friends from that city. She happened to use Gowalla, stumbled across some of my sarcastically-described Spots and decided that the person who tagged Greggs as such was someone she’d like to get to know better. So we progressed from stalking each other via Gowalla, to tracking each other down on Twitter, to chatting on Twitter, to finally meeting face to face. It was one of those random instances of chaos theory at work, where one little choice made slightly differently would have meant we’d never have met. And, given what was going on in my life at the time we met, and how much she helped me through that difficult time, that would have made things go very differently for me.

So I’m certainly glad that I’ve left a “mark” on a few places over time, be it physically, emotionally or technologically. Because you never know when those marks might lead to something great, even after you’re gone.

#oneaday, Day 236: Moving Day

Apologies for the lack of comic today. I’ve run out of filler material. Note to self: stockpile strips for use in situations like this. Normal business will resume tomorrow.

Edit: Look, I added a picture, making that first paragraph completely redundant. I could have deleted it. But I’ve chosen not to.

You’ll forgive me if I forego my usually verbose nature (he says, picking the most pretentious words possible) just for the sake of today, I’m sure. Today has been a day of mixed feelings that I haven’t finished processing myself. So I don’t think I have any concrete conclusions to offer; this is just going to be one of those self-indulgent rambles.

No change there, then.

Today, I left behind the fine/chav-infested capital of the South Coast, Southampton. I know it feels like I’ve been saying this for a while now. But today it finally happened. I left my flat, I dropped my keys through the letterbox (picturing them landing and bouncing on the carpet inside in slow-motion with appropriately overdramatic “slam” sound effects with each impact) and said a last goodbye to the place I had once called home. It was difficult to do. I stood there with my hand in the letterbox for a good few minutes, not wanting to let go. But after mustering some mental strength, I did, and it was done. That particular chapter was closed.

I took a walk into town to burn the hours until I was supposed to be meeting some friends for lunch. I spent most of the time drinking coffee, reading Twitter and delivering an excessive amount of Follow Fridays as I realised I’m lucky to have so many friends right across the country and even the world, let alone just in that city.

It didn’t make it easier to say goodbye to those few special people though.

This is where those mixed feelings come in. On the one hand, leaving sucks, there’s no question of that. But on the other, there’s nothing like a crisis to discover who are the important people. To be fair, I knew already. It’s nice to have it confirmed. But heartbreaking to have to walk away from them, look back and know that they’re sad because of something you’re doing, whether or not it was your choice.

So to those few special people I said one last farewell to today, thank you for making my last day marginally more bearable. A lot more bearable, in fact. And thank you for making it hard to let go. To leave on the quiet, mourned by no-one after ten years? That would be awful. To leave knowing that people will miss you? As unpleasant as it is, it is also nice to feel appreciated and wanted.

As of now, I’m staying at my parents’ house. I am not feeling happy. Fresh start or not, tonight in particular is going to feel hideously lonely.

Hopefully tomorrow will bring more positive feelings. But it is going to take some time.

#oneaday, Day 235: Social Networking

I’m taking a few minutes out from cleaning and packing to write this as I will probably be too exhausted later in the evening. Things are going reasonably well; thanks for asking. Perhaps not as quickly as I’d like, and I’m terrified that I won’t fit everything in the back of my car despite my genetically-enhanced Tetris skills inherited from my mother. Still, if it doesn’t all fit, then something’s going to have to be thrown out, isn’t it? Divine justice or whatever.

Anyway, what I wanted to talk about today was social networking. I’m not talking Facebook, Twitter, Friendface or what have you here. I’m talking actual social networks.

“Social networking” is one of those terms that sprung up a few years back, along with the word “leverage” being used as a verb (stop it!), and the obnoxiousness that is “monetize”. But it actually has some grounding in good sense, for once. Our social lives are nothing if not a network. And society in general is one gigantic network of people, some of whom are connected to each other, others who are not.

Let me give you an example. You walk into a shop. You attempt to buy a Cornish pasty from the gentleman behind the counter. For some reason, you have some difficulty. Perhaps the shop in question does not sell Cornish pasties. Perhaps the gentleman behind the counter is having difficulty understanding your heavily-accented English. Perhaps you muttered what you said. Perhaps you delivered your request in sign language and the gentleman behind the counter is unfamiliar with it.

Regardless, you have difficulty acquiring said meat-filled pastry product. As a result, your brain informs your mouth that it would be a really good idea to call said gentleman a “twat”. So you do. Then you storm out of the shop. Cut back to gentleman behind the counter, who is standing flabbergasted at the frankly disproportionately offensive response that a dissatisfied customer just gave him. (It was a bit rude. There are plenty of other places to get a pasty.)

His friend comes out of the back room to see what’s happening. He tells her that he just got called a “twat” by someone, and he’s actually a little bit annoyed about that. His friend tells him not to worry and reminds him that there’s a night out planned that evening.

That evening, gentleman and his friend go out for a drink or two with a crowd of friends. Gentleman is a little sullen, so one of his friend’s friends (let’s call her Alice) comes over and asks him what the problem is. Gentleman knows Alice, but not very well. But he quite likes her, so he tells her about the earlier incident and describes you perfectly.

“Oh!” says Alice. “You mean Sam / Don Woods / Kittycow / Elana / Matt / Jeff / Jen / Pook / Rachel / Moonsong / Jane / Mandy / Calin / Graham / Chris / Amy / Denise / Mark / Lynette / that person I know whose name escapes me right now*? Yeah, they’re always like that. Don’t take it personally.”

The next time you see Alice, she tells you to stop calling people in shops twats. You raise an eyebrow at her, then you both have a good laugh about it. Or she punches you in the face. One or the other.

This is a small-scale and somewhat contrived scenario, of course. But these sorts of things are happening every day on varying levels. What is happening to me right now is indirectly going to affect the lives of many, many others. While it would be somewhat presumptious of me to overstate my own influence over other people, I know for a fact that there are at least a couple of people out there who have very strong feelings about the fact I am leaving. These reasons are very different from one another. Some of them know each other, some of them don’t. All of them know that I wouldn’t do this if I had a choice.

Unfortunately, I don’t. And I’m sorry that the actions and choices I have made, along with actions and choices I have no control over, have led to this point, where so many people’s lives are going to be just that tiny bit different from hereon.

Those of you who are going to be that little bit farther away from me than you were before, I’m just an email, comment, text, phone call, tweet, IM, PingChat message or really, really loud scream away. Those of you that all this isn’t affecting directly? Well, I hope you can join everyone in keeping your fingers crossed that this is the beginning of something new and awesome.

I leave town tomorrow sometime. Those of you in the area, keep an eye on Twitter and your phones for details of a meetup.

* Interactivity! Delete as applicable.

#oneaday, Day 234: Dear Friends

You’ll surely excuse the enthusiastic gushing and emotion that is shortly to follow. You’ll hopefully agree that it is justified by the time I’m done. I might be funny tomorrow. If I’ve had any sleep. Otherwise I’ll just be grumpy. “No change there then,” I hear you say.

As has hopefully been made abundantly clear by now, I am leaving Southampton very shortly. Some might say “imminently”. Specifically, on Friday. The vast majority of my stuff was taken away yesterday, meaning I’m currently ensconced in a hollow shell of a house that is but a shadow of what it once was, which was in turn a shadow of what it once was prior to that. But now’s not the time for such thoughts.

Today was intended to be a day of tidying up final bits and cleaning up. And indeed it has; I’ve packed up, tidied up and hoovered the bedroom and study, with more to be done later this evening. But today has also been a time to see friends, some of whom I haven’t had the chance to see for some time, and some of whom weren’t able to make it out on Friday for drinking and WUBWUBWUB.

So I spent the morning overcaffeinating myself with a “cafe crawl” alongside Ben “xoorox” Willmott (with accompaniment from Mike “Sex Panther” Porter in the first coffee shop) and then getting on with a bit of Java-fueled tidying. Having not slept terribly well last night, the experience of exhaustion coupled with hyperactivity was… curious, to say the least.

Just as Ben and I were parting ways, I ran into the very fine and lovely Elana “dollydaydream” Moylette (second from right in the header image, fact fans) who has been a great and wonderful friend over the last few years, ever since I trained the crap out of her at our local Apple Store. She was very keen for me to catch up with her later, and that’s what I’ve just done.

I’ve got to say, I am 100% glad I did. I am now the proud owner of possibly the best gift anyone has ever got me (and I got a Super NES one Christmas) – a beautifully-made scrapbook/photo album full of wonderful memories. It’s something that will be utterly irreplaceable in years to come, and evidence that however I might be feeling about the circumstances surrounding my departure from here, I’ve touched the lives of a whole bunch of people, and they, too, have enriched my life.

While it sucks balls that I am leaving, I’ve found it deeply touching that there are very obviously so many people out there who genuinely care about me, appreciate me for who I am and, above all, have helped me survive one of the most difficult periods of my life that I’ve ever been through.

So to all those people who’ve made it clear that I’m not going to be forgotten as soon as I drive off on Friday, thank you, from the very bottom of my heart. You are awesome, and I’ll never forget you or what you’ve done.

Hah. The comic I pre-prepared to go at the top of this post the other day seems rather flippant now. Still, there’s no arguing with The Robot.

#oneaday, Day 230: In Da Club

Last night I went out with a bunch of friends. It was my last chance to see a lot of them as I’m leaving Southampton at the start of next week. A great deal of alcohol was imbibed, hugs were had, tears were shed.

And realisations were reached.

They say that you’ve reached adulthood when you don’t enjoy clubbing any more. Actually, they don’t. I just made that up. But it’s as good a measure as anything. I used to enjoy clubbing at university. At least I think I did. We used to go to a local shithole called “Kaos” every Monday night from the university Theatre Group, imbibe a great deal of cheap alcohol and dance until the early hours. And I have plenty of fond memories of those occasions. Again, at least I think I did. They’re a bit hazy.

So last night we went to a couple of places. First up was the Orange Rooms, which is a reasonable-ish place full of girls in dresses that barely qualify as dresses, comfortable-ish chairs and overpriced drinks. It was cool to see everyone but the conversation was gradually muted by the fact that the music got so loud that the bass was shaking books off the shelves on the walls. And frequently onto our heads.

I don’t know if I’m going deaf, haven’t attuned my hearing properly or am just ill-versed in the fine art of conversation during loud noises. But other people seem well-equipped to continue a conversation under these circumstances. I find myself having to say “Huh?” and “What?” a lot, or feigning that I’ve actually heard them when as a matter of fact I haven’t.

This becomes doubly troublesome when it becomes clear that the other participant in the exchange has asked a question. I have two choices at this point—yes or no. No-one ever asks a question requiring a complicated answer under these circumstances, which is a small mercy, I guess. So I have to work out whether the question which has been asked is one which requires a yes or no answer, and then pick one of the two. I have a 50/50 chance of my answer making sense. Sometimes it doesn’t. Then I just shrug and let the pitiful attempt at conversation fade.

Late in the evening, a few people disappeared and the rest of us were dragged to a nearby club called “Junk”. Aptly named. At “Junk” I had my first experience of a style of music a bunch of people I know have been banging on about for ages, which is, I believe, dubstep. I didn’t really know what dubstep was prior to tonight, but I had a feeling I probably wasn’t going to appreciate its finer artistic merits.

As it happened, that was a correct assumption. Dubstep, or at least the Junk interpretation of it, appeared to be playing songs as they originally sounded, only with a bassline that goes WUB WUB WUB WUB WUB WUB WUB WUB over the top of it, and an occasional klaxon solo. So the whole thing ends up sounding something like TURN AROUND BRIIIIGHT EYES EVERY NOW AND THEN I FALL A PAAAAAAWUB WUB WUB WUB WUB WUB WUB WUB WUB HOOOOOOOOONK HOOOOOOOOOOONK WUB WUB WUB WUB WUB TOTAL ECLIPSE OF THE HEART

Sorry guys. I know you dig it and all. But I really don’t get it. Like, even a little bit. It hurt my brain. The thumping beats are fine for dancing, but I couldn’t see myself just sitting listening to it.

Dancing is weird, too, isn’t it? People wilfully gathering together in order to gyrate suggestively and/or spastically presumably in the hope of attracting someone to have some form of sexual congress with. Well, okay, no. Not everyone is there to get laid. But the ones who are make themselves very obvious. I’d hate to be an attractive girl. The sight of a bunch of men gradually gathering around you making overtly sexual motions is probably enormously intimidating. And that, besides the fact I’d think I’d look like a dick, is why I don’t do that. It is also why I don’t go to clubs to look for a potential mate. Or indeed at all.

So there you have it. At the age of 29, I am officially Over Clubbing. (Note: this is different from “overclubbing”, which generally leads to a significantly larger hangover than I had today) I like going out for a drink at a decent bar. I like having a laugh with my friends. I even like going to smaller clubs that play decent music. The Dungeon here in Southampton is a great example, largely because it attracts nerds, geeks, goths and other outcasts of “mainstream” culture. But spending time in what appears to be a darkened warehouse that plays music that doesn’t make sense and getting surrounded by perverts in Ben Sherman shirts? Sounds like a dream come true to some, I’m sure. But I think you can count me out!

#oneaday, Day 223: One Adult Ticket, Please

This is an exaggeration, of course. A lot of things are made to be shared. A meal for two. Sexual intercourse. That fart that made you chuckle for a good thirty minutes because it smelled like what you imagine a can of processed vegetables that’s been left open for a month stinks like.

Still, there are a number of things which are supposedly inherently social activities which are actually improved severaltimes-fold by the complete and total absence of other people. And yet the peculiarness that is “social convention” precludes people from ever considering taking part in these activities without other people present at times.

Since we’re on the subject, let’s consider the cinema. The cinema is a place with lots of seats where lots of people can sit together and all watch the same movie. A movie is an audio-visual form of entertainment where it is necessary to both watch and listen in order to understand what is going on. Ergo (yeah, I said “ergo”) it is natural to assume that you would want to give this your full attention. So why did you bring these people with you?

The Giggler

The Giggler sits and watches the movie and laughs obnoxiously loudly at everything. Not just the deliberately funny bits. But the bits they find amusing, too. The trouble with The Giggler is that they find everything funny. From the fact that the lead character has a zit on his nose to the cheesy line that the love interest spouts, everything provokes a snort, snicker, giggle or guffaw.

You’re watching the climax of the movie (“climax”, incidentally, being a word that would cause The Giggler to collapse and possibly explode) and it’s clear that it’s a powerful, dramatic moment. However, The Giggler has decided that this moment is actually the funniest thing they have ever seen, and they proceed to ruin the dramatic tension for themselves, you and everyone around them by chortling away to themselves.

Net result: You, and most other people in the cinema, want to punch them in the face by the time you leave.

The Joker

Ally to The Giggler, The Joker has a sly comment to make about every single scene in the movie, which normally sets The Giggler off into one of their famous Fits of The Giggles. The Joker knows the perfect moment in which to say something completely inappropriate which ruins the whole movie for themselves and everyone around them. Fortuitously, The Joker usually has the good sense to say these things quietly so that only they and their immediate group of companions can hear them.

But when a planet is about to explode on screen, there’s a moment of silence and The Joker leans over and whispers “Cock!” in your ear, there’s no way you can recover from that.

The Farter

The Farter is a subdivision of The Joker. The Farter also does things inappropriately at just the wrong moment. But you can imagine what it is they do instead of cracking jokes.

The Texter

The Texter can’t keep their hands off their mobile phone for the duration of the movie, despite those stern warnings and irritating Orange adverts before it starts. The Texter inevitably has poor low-light vision, too, so insists on having their phone set to full brightness for while they are sending messages to all their friends who are not you.

The One Who Doesn’t Get It

The One Who Doesn’t Get It is fairly self-explanatory. Stereotypically, The One Who Doesn’t Get It is a girl who has been dragged along to a sci-fi movie by her boyfriend, but it’s by no means limited to the female of the species.

The One Who Doesn’t Get It is trying very hard to like the movie but just doesn’t understand it. Perhaps it’s a movie based on a TV show or comic series that they don’t have any context for. Perhaps they went to the toilet when a critical plot point happened. Perhaps they’re used to stories with all the depth of a puddle. Or perhaps they’re just a bit slow.

Regardless of the reason, The One Who Doesn’t Get It very much wants to Get It. So they ask lots of questions of the person who appears to Get It the most. Which is probably you.

The Rustler

The Rustler is, at their core, a kind-hearted soul. That’s why they stocked up on drinks and snacks in the foyer. They’re more than happy to share their tasty treats with you. Unfortunately, the tasty treats that they purchased come in the noisiest bag imaginable. And not only that, the sweets in the bag are all individually wrapped, too, meaning that not only do you have to rustle the bag if you want a sweet (which you do, because they’re delicious and exactly what you want right now) you then have to spent a few minutes rustling the paper of the sweet in order to get at the delicious goodness within. And once you’ve had one, you want more.

In this way, The Rustler has managed to escape blame for themselves alone. By sharing the goodies with others, it’s not just their fault.

The One Who’s Seen The Movie Before

The One Who’s Seen The Movie Before is, in many ways, the most dangerous of all. Because The Giggler, The Joker, The Farter, The Texter, The One Who Doesn’t Get It and The Rustler can all be ignored or told to shut up. The One Who’s Seen The Movie Before can do their damage and make it irreversible before you know what’s happening.

All it takes is a simple “Oh wow! This is the twist coming up!” to ruin any sense of dramatic tension. The One Who’s Seen The Movie Before assumes that everyone else has also Seen The Movie Before and as such doesn’t mind dishing out a few spoilers both before and during the movie. And because they’re your friend, you don’t want to punch them in the testicles for doing so. But inside, your mind is beating them senseless about the face and neck.

The Other Moviegoers

This doesn’t even take into account the other people in the cinema. There’s The Very Tall Man, who inevitably sits right in front of you, even when the rest of the cinema is empty. There are The Annoying Children, who are usually other people’s The Jokers and The Gigglers. There are The Weak Bladders, who get up every five minutes to go and have a piss, and inevitably sit on your row, requiring you to stand up to let them out. And numerous others. These can be dealt with by simply not sitting near anyone else, ever.

So stay safe. Just go by yourself. Unless you’re with a significant other and you really don’t care about the movie and just want to make out in the back row. But, you know, you can achieve much the same effect by simply turning off the lights in your living room, and it won’t cost you seven quid.

In other news, I went to see Scott Pilgrim vs. The World today. By myself. And it was awesome.