Chavs and obscenities.

Dear Diary,

Even though I managed to get some Latin done this morning (which was awesome by the way, I am really getting into it) I digressed by focusing on archæology this afternoon. I am making progress as best I can, but life is tough. I should have gone busking as I have no food or tobacco, but since the blanket ban on buskers I would be either doing so illegally or, sitting in the rain watching my thousand pound guitar get rusty. Fcuk it. I give up smoking and eating instead. I still have a few olives and half a pack of spaghetti (no sauce or owt) to last me until Saturday: where I earn a tenner, which must last me all week.

There is this guy, a kid, a chav, a conspiracy theorist, who is around town. He wears his trousers round his ass, talks like a black guy, raps, he’s essentially what we’d term a ‘wigger’. Anyway, the other day he posted some s- and I corrected him on his spelling (he could not spell the words English or immature) and he just replied, “F- off!” immediately after stating that he was ‘chilled out’. Evidently not. Anyway, I got to thinking that this guy is so very uncultured, vulgar, a thief, rude, he revels in the ‘bling’ he has bought with his giro and thinks the world owes him a living. This morning I slammed him with one hell of a status update. He once smashed up my mates car because he thought he was a lizardman from outer space. That’s how messed up this generation is. This morning I indirectly called him a ‘semi-illiterate chav wigger’ (he cannot even spell the word ‘immature’ nor the name of our country). I am so used to amicable discourse with academics that some FB conversations are banal, vulgar and boring.

Tonight is D&D, I am attending just for the social aspect. I hardly see any body nowadays. I’m going to take my guitar and try to play music there, as the rôle of Arion - cithara player extraordinaire. In any case, little Ronulus must stay at home. He’ll hold the fort for me.