Wednesday, November 16, 2005

Growing Old Gracelessly

Recently a horrifying fact has become apparent to me - I am getting older. This is a realisation that itself proves to all the naysayers that, despite the occasional lapse into extreme brain-addled baby amoeba mode, I am now mature enough to have the ability for sentient and rational thought.

In sad acknowledgement of this fact, I have composed Ed's Indicator of Ageing. If any of the changes in the areas detailed below have afflicted you, I suggest you abandon hope now. Ageing is irreversible. Of course, cosmetic surgery now has the sensational and fantastically useful capacity to make a 75 year old woman (Joan Collins) look like a sort of hastily constructed papier mache version of Ruby Wax (which makes you wonder with a sense of morbid and overwhelming horror what in the name of hell she looked like before the operation to convince her that it was remotely worthwhile - Keith Richards?? Freddie Krueger?? The Elephant Man??). Similarly, males with a certain rugged appearance are able to exert a remarkable attraction on young impressionable women well into their late eighties (Pierce Brosnan). However, the loss of mere physical semi-attractiveness is not the only casualty of age. Ageing is a malignant tumour affecting people throughout the world not just physically, but psychologically.

INDICATION A: CHANGING RESPONSE TO OPPOSITION GOALS

Instead of screaming in anguish, viciously thrashing the seat in front of you, gazing pathetically at the heavens, holding your head in the desperate hope that the referee will see reason and disallow the goal for sheer, excruciating unfairness and glaring homicidally at the idiotic woman (universally audible at all football matches regardless of where you sit or how good your hearing), who says 'it's only a game dear' like an infuriatingly and impossibly placid grandmother gently chiding her five year old granddaughter for insisting on checking a word in the dictionary during a particularly heated game of family Scrabble, you now simply smile wryly and shake your head like one of those evil non-partisan middle-aged phlegmatic uber-morons who go to games 'for the experience'.

INDICATION B: NEWLY IMPOSED HAIRSTYLE RESTRICTIONS

For eighteen years you rigidly adhered to the standard bowl haircut beloved of monks and people who go out with the solemn intention of buying a haircut and instead, with quite extraordinarily bad luck, repeatedly buy a large dish and some blunt sheep shears. After that you experimented with a vast variety of haircuts in the hope that one would, eventually, not result in uproarious laughter from everyone who encountered you. However, you were told recently that you are now 'too old to have spikes', a highly offensive comment which the woman in question would never have made to a hedgehog. Fortunately, as your current 'KEGS boy' quiff haircut was apparently outmoded some time in 1996 (when there clearly must have been an epidemic of spontaneous, universal appreciation of 'cool' which completely bypassed you) and the top half of your head supposedly resides in some kind of localised time vacuum this should not concern you greatly.

INDICATION C: CHANGING MUSICAL TASTE

Previously, you refused to listen to anything unless it featured ear-splittingly distorted electric guitars on the verge of obliterating their amplifiers with sheer unadulterated volume, a bassline capable of beginning a Europe-wide earthquake, drums which could make whole countries vibrate and a singer whose sole intention was to ensure he would be the last thing you ever heard. Now, you listen to Coldplay.

INDICTATION D: CHANGING PERCEPTION OF A HARDCORE NIGHT OUT


During the undergraduate years, the only night out considered acceptable to the (somewhat arbitrarily authoritative) schools of thought that dictate this was one that incorporated:

1. Fifteen drinking establishments
2. Six drinking and clubbing establishments
3. Twenty stolen traffic cones
4. Five hundred noise complaints from members of the public
5. A 3am return home
6. An all-night comedy DVD session with pizza, curry and fast food takeaway deliveries
7. At least eight times total body weight consumed in alcohol.

Somewhere along the line this has become what is now a near teetotal visit to the UCL student bar that ends before it becomes dark. Crikey.

INDICATION E: CHANGING PERCEPTION OF THE 'REAL WORLD'

Undergraduates are kindly shielded from the discomforting realisation that entering the world usually requires acquiring a career, believing that a benevolent fate smilingly bestows £400,000 executive positions on all newly graduated students requiring, at the most, nine hours attendance a week. However, you now realise as a master's student that the only way you can possibly acquire a £400,000 executive position requiring nine hours attendance a week is if you become a) a miraculously late-flowering Premiership footballer, b) a glamour model with breasts so large that they bankrupt the milk industry or c) a high-class prostitute (also with breasts so large etc etc). Consequently, you have taken the plunge. The ultimate disavowal of self. The absolute rupture with your previous identity. The complete betrayal of everything you have ever believed in. The utter desecration of every moral, maxim and truism that you have steadfastly maintained faith in throughout your life.

You now go to university to work.

WORK?!? AT UNIVERSITY?!?!? WHAT KIND OF PREPOSTEROUSLY, EXTRAORDINARILY, ABSURDLY LUDICROUS IDEA IS THAT?!? ARE YOU COMPLETELY INSANE?!?!?

Yes. The inconceivable has finally happened. I am a fraud.

Next time : Puppy Genocide 2: Return of the Canine Slaughter. I promise.

Ed's Mood: Ashamed

Ed's Incessant Auto-Repeat Musical Tip: Coldplay - Fix You

7 Comments:

Blogger Thepatient323 said...

yo ed
i don't like coldplay and i can still have spikes in my hair if i want

3:17 AM  
Blogger Chandler said...

Congratulations Geo, you've bypassed the process. If you have spikes at your party, I solemnly promise that I'll come with a mohawk.

Ed

5:15 AM  
Blogger bob said...

i dont like coldplay anymore

i like getting older, i'm more conscious that i was when i was younger, its nice. but i do fear the real ageing>>>alzheimers etc. now that is scary. but the world is too beautiful to worry about any of that, plenty of time, wood touched.

now they are some spikes id like to see - i'll contribute 2 pots of gel!

2:31 PM  
Blogger Chandler said...

And with that much hair, he'll bloody well need it.

What happened to your love for Coldplay Rob? Did they shamelessly sell out to the greasy corporate fat cat dollar?

Ed

9:59 AM  
Anonymous NICKMB said...

Personally, I love Coldplay almost as much as I love gettng older and eventually dying.

3:04 AM  
Blogger bob said...

no i just feel that they got rather...dull.

10:36 AM  
Blogger Chandler said...

I don't mind the music so much, it's Chris Martin's majestically atrocious lyrics. They're about as moving as that soul-eating Peter Andre/Jordan duet on Children in Need.

Ed

4:09 PM  

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