Teenagers

I hate teenagers. A sweeping statement I admit, and I appreciate this is a generalisation, but, they’re just a bit rubbish at the old rebellion business. Now I’m not talking about the awful business of gangs and stabbings, more about the common or garden schoolkids that think they’re the best thing that’s sliced bread, when actually, they’re just not trying hard enough. I know every generation thinks they’re the first to do anything, but it’s all got a little lazy.

Since the start of the new school term, a bunch of eight or so little darlings that attend an establishment known locally as Micky’s, have been catching the same bus as me.

Before you argue, I haven’t made my point yet – it’s not what you think.

Every morning, they talk loudly and set off firecrackers, which I’m sure must be costing them a fortune (and where on earth sells them?!). No one says a word to them. The teens think this is because they are dead ‘ard and no one dares speak to them. When in fact firecrackers were passe in Enid Blyton books, and the reason why they haven’t been challenged is because no one cares, it’s all a bit dull. They leave no damage, and with the draughty windows the smell clears within minutes. More annoying than the firecrackers, however, is the bragging that they drank 4 barcardi breezers last night, and could still stand up, and that they haven’t done their RE homework.

I just feel that they’ve missed the point. Underage drinking used to be about a litre of the strongest cider you could lay your hands on, and bragging if you managed to keep it down. And who the hell has ever done their RE homework?

I don’t actually want a country full of pickled 13 year olds, knife crime and random bus arson, but please, teenagers, if you’re going to try and impress a bus full of commuters, can you at least stop making ‘original teenager’ Cliff Richard look like Pete sodding Docherty?

Maybe I’ll tell them on Monday.

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