Every weekend, and you've got to believe us on this, we enter proceedings feeling positive, upbeat, and resolutely convinced that it's going to be the weekend, the one we've always wanted, the weekend that feels like weekends should. There'll be fry ups and frothy coffees, pints and perfect roasts. We'll step foot in a club and our favourite DJ'll be playing our favourite song. The drink'll be free and the pingers plentiful and we'll wake up the next day feeling amazing and we'll smash that 10k run and enjoy the good natured banter between Tim Lovejoy and Simon Rimmer on Sunday Brunch without wanting to quietly end it all.
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Things don't work out like that though. Life gets in the way. Things, often, most of the time in fact, go wrong. Very wrong. With that in mind, we've detailed every single thing that's going to go very, very badly for you over the next 48 hours. Enjoy!Cor, Tinder, eh? I am writing about Tinder because it's now a legal requirement that any article that's even vaguely, tangentially and tenuously linked to that amorphous blob of STIs and vintage sportswear that we think of as 'young people' must mention Tinder because Tinder is a thing young people use. I have never used Tinder and find the idea of Tinder absolutely repulsive and I once spent an evening watching a mate, who had a girlfriend at the time, joylessly swiping left or right or whatever way it is that you swipe to indicate the person you've swiped that you'd quite like to wipe your bodily fluids off them at some point, and I left the pub and I got a McDonalds on my own and I ate in and I thought about what I was doing and what I'd just witnessed and god, I've never felt sadder in my life. Still, this weekend you'll probably be sat in a Wetherspoons waiting for a boy or girl you've never met to meet you for a few pitchers and a bottle of prosecco before you go to a night in a club in Shoreditch that you don't really want to go to, and they won't turn up, and you'll find yourself sat next to me in McDonalds, eating a Double Cheeseburger, thinking about what a waste of life this life is.Who would have thought that someone you have shared interests with has turned up at a place that houses one of those interests? Not us. You will now spend the entire night trying not to look at them while simultaneously really obviously looking at them all night. They are all you talk about in the smoking area and in the taxi home and in the lounge when you get back and in the cafe the day after and in the pub after that and the mere sight of them will utterly consume you and ruin your life all over again. Still, Nina Kraviz played a few good tunes.Deep down the pair of you know that this is nothing more than a bond of nostalgia at its most rankly cloying. Your mums were friends, you've shared baths, he showed you his dick and dry humped a teddy in front of you when you were six, you both ended up getting handjobs at different points in life off the same girl. So now, 22 years after you remember meeting them for the first time, you play out this charade of lifelong friendship. Sure, the texts are fewer and far between, and you didn't even meet them for a pint over the Christmas break, but hey, they'll be in London next weekend and you should totally hang out because it'd be great to catch up, mate, for old time's sake at least, right? And here he is now, pissing himself on a bus before you've ever got to the club. You manage to drag his lifeless body into a club and dump him on a sofa somewhere. The next morning he rings you, crying, from Trafalgar Square. You feign bad signal. You feel a lot less guilt than you thought you would. A primal tie has been severed. A week later his mum rings you. She says Jamie hasn't come home yet.
Your Tinder Date Doesn't Turn Up
Your Ex is There
A Mate From Home Comes Up for the Weekend and Ruins It
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Everyone is 17
The Special Guest DJ is Jamie Jones
You Get Beaten Up
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You Lose Absolutely Everyone You Know
You Have Your Drugs Confiscated By a Bouncer
You Hear "Hotline Bling" Even Though You're Watching Surgeon at Corsica
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The DJ Isn't Vinyl Only
Your Uber Driver Gives You a Bad Rating
You Need to do a Shit in the Club; Which You Knew Was Going to Happen as Soon as You Finished That Pizza but Because Everyone Else is so Fucking Incompetent it Was Up to You to Sort the Taxis and Now Your Only Option is to Literally Sit in a Peeling, Toxic Smelling Cubicle, Holding the Lockless Door Shut, Squeezing Cold, Loveless Turds Out of Your Body, Listening to Lads Upon Lads Outside the Thin MDF Door Chatting About Shagging and the Size of Their Penises, Praying (and I Mean Praying) That They Don't Work Out You Are Metres Away Shitting a Deep Pan Frozen Away in Sweaty Silence
You'll be Shown a "Really Fucking Funny" Video by a Stranger in the Smoking Area
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