{Fiction} Death of A Hipster

In #rabble1, Humour, Illustration, Print Edition by Niall McCabe1 Comment

Niall McCabe takes a satirical swipe at your favorite stereotype.

“Hello” “Why haven’t you answered the phone all day?” “I’ve been busy at work” “All day? You haven’t had time to even send me a text, on your lunch break?” “Maxwell hun, I was going to wait til tonight.” “Yes well, I’d appreciate a text, I got a lot of positive comments on my Salon.com comment on Bisexual skinheads” “Oh thats great! We can talk about it later, where are we going?” “ I was thinking we could go to that new pub, The Red Dragon in FINglas” “Finglas?? Is Finglas cool now?” “It soon will be” I can’t believe she hasn’t rang me all day! I mean, what the frack? Is she taking this relationship seriously? The least I can expect is a text, though to be fair, the smileys have lost their lustre, it was outré for all of 5 minutes, I don’t even know if she means it to be anymore? But maybe that’s funny? I don’t know. I have got to get her out of this Sisters of Mercy fad though. I’ll get Ciara to talk to her, I mean she doesn’t even ride a bike, and I know she isn’t a strict vegan. I think I love her though, and her father was in The Fall in the 80’s.Now do I bring the Rubiks cube or not? ‘Maxwell! Boi! Whats popping G?’ Oh no it’s Wigger Chris, we’ll have to go through the ritualistic street patois. CUNT. “S’up nigga!” Look at him, he hasn’t even got High tops, what a Reuban. Oh fuck if he’s in here then there’s no fucking way I’m championing this place. OK the decor is shabby enough and there are enough ‘colourful’ regulars, but once Wigger Chris and his ‘crew’ of mindless neophytes get in here then it’ll go to the dogs. Damn I thought I had a find. It’s so hard in this city to find a place you can truly call cool without the likes of Chris lowering the tone, next thing you know fucking Mark Kermode will be drinking in here. “You coming to my party man? It’s been ages. Gonna get our drink on, our swerve on, some laydeez, bring Ffion, it’s gonna be dope!” Full of fucking dopes more like, and no doubt one of your ridiculous attempts at freestyling. “Yeah Man, that will be sweet, My mother is showing ‘Accattone’ in her boutique that night and there is a talk on Pasolini afterwards by Giuseppe Pelosi which will be fun, but we’ll deffo try and get down afterwards” “Tight” Ah at last Ffion, oh no she looks like a goth, I must get Ciara to have a full and frank chat. “Oh…My…God! This place is harder to find than Madeleine McCann” Thats awful, I’m wincing, Maddy jokes are soooo 2008. “Oh babes, nothing good is ever easy now is it?” “Nespresso darling” Bitch has me there! She’s always got an answer for everything. Why does she have to be so smart? Smart girls are cool though, or they were last time I checked intelligent Life magazine. “Well where have you BEAN til this time” Silence. “As in coffee bean, oh” Bollocks, that was crap.I really should keep up to date with Stephen Fry on Twitter. Think like Stephen Fry, then be like Stephen Fry. Awful clothes though. Shit everyone’s looking at me like I’m Sarah Palin. “Yes, yes I know, I’m a poltroonian, I had too much of that Durban poison shit that Fran has been hoarding like Charles Foster Kane. Et Voila, out comes the Pop Art Magnetic pipe, visible jealousy, I’m the fackin daddy again you caaants! Actually they are all caants, why do I even bother hanging out with these people? Note to self, get better friends. “Drinkies?” “Yes darling, I’ll have a Guinness. Guinness? Good choice, solid, reliable and non-conformist, I do love you Ffion. “Oh darling?” Dont ask for blackcurrant, don’t ask for blackcurrant!! “Yes babes?” “A smidgereeny of blackcurrant” Right! I’m ending this now!

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