Why the fuck are children ordering latte's in Starbucks?
Yesterday, I saw a group of girls, aged I'm sure no more than 13, ordering lattes, capuccinos and asking for soya milk. What the fuck has happened to young people? Why aren't they off letting fireworks off in cats arses or nicking from Claire's Accessories or having abortions like I did when I was a little girl? This isn't the first time that I've witnessed the abomination in a coffee shop. It seems like this is what a lot of kids do these days. They go for coffee. And talk. Like pricks.
I remember being 18 years old and my friend telling me that he took a girl out for dinner the night before. This was so utterly alien to me. Why on Earth would you pay money to take a girl for dinner? I mean, you'd have to sit there and talk. Like pricks. I was 18 years old when that happened. I couldn't grasp the concept of interesting dialogue between like-minded people yet I was allowed to vote, drink and rent Kentucky Fried Movie legally. I know it's a cliche to say that kids are growing up faster these days but what the fuck is going on? I'm 41 and I don't like coffee shops. They're like libraries, churches or an unloved relatives smelly house as far as I'm concerned. Places that you are dragged to, not ones that you organise to meet your friends in right after Swap Shop (is that still on?).
When I'm writing with someone and they say that we should meet for a coffee to discuss the script I, and to be fair they, always assume we'll be meeting in a pub and drinking. We might even discuss the script. But we NEVER meet in a coffee shop because coffee shops are for grown-ups and squares not cool-assed overgrown man-children like me.
The thing is, I'm 41 and I don't know what a latte is. I have no idea. It could be wasp-cum for all I know. And that's my problem. That's it right there. I'm 41 fat, ridiculous years old and forcing myself into a state of arrested development yet I get grumpy when I see 13 year old girls streamling themselves through life with complete confidence and ease.
Plus, when I finally got served I realised I'd spent so much time grumping about coffee kids that I didn't know what I wanted and took ages looking at the menu and then ordered what I always order and then answered every one of the Starbucks assistant's 500 questions incorrectly and fumbled over giving her the right change. She asked if the drink was for here or to go. I didn't know. I just didn't know.
As I left I saw the girls texting and talking about X-Factor. That made me slightly happier. They're normal after all. Except one. The one who lept up because she forgot to but a newspaper. Jesus fucking Christ.
That happened at the Starbucks at Kings Cross. I was on my way to Hitchin to record Precious Little number 8 and it turned out to be the most enjoyable one to date. Making it, I mean. Listening to it will be a chore. I was very hyper (you know, annoying) when it came to start recording so that might explain the incredible childishness that gave birth to a brand new character called Sad Hippo who I then shot ten minutes later. We now have a new, new character called Ghost Hippo who can never die or be written out EVER. Yeah, that DOES sound shit, you're right, but it completely entertained me for the whole recording. Mainly because of the look of incredible pity that James gave me throughout. Even more fun than recording the podcast was reading all the tweets on Twitter from the Precious Little podcast listening group. A small but dedicated group of extremely lovely people from Scotland, England, America, Canada and Australia press play on Precious Little at the same time then go on Twitter to debate and point out my stupidity as it happens. This has made me very happy and I'm very grateful to all who got involved. I think my favourite part was reading how Andy McHaffie tried to convince Shannon in California that Dalek is pronounced and spelled Darleks. At one point he wrote to her: "No. That's just the BBC's opinion. It's Darlek". Sadly, James and I never came up with anything quite so funny as that on the podcast. Which is James' fault.