So what did I choose to wear for mufti day? Some black trousers and a white shirt. To be specific, the same white shirt that I'd worn two days ago to school. It had tea stains on it. From where I'd spilt tea on myself. And some trainers. Some trainers which I'd worn every day to rowing training at school. To be honest, my mufti outfit was pretty similar to the school uniform which I had just eschewed. My excuse is that I'd totally fogotten that it was mufti and was forced to change out of my skewl uni in like three minutes while listening to hardcore music on my iPod. Why I paid £2 for it I don't know. I could have just shown up wearing standard uniform, not paid the Mufti Levy and then untucked my shirt and taken off my tie. I would have achieved exactly the same effect, without the need to pay any money to charity. Take THAT, you fucking Africans! Next time, get born in a non-shit country. Unfortunately I ended up paying money to charity anyway. But hey, it was pretty cool to not have to wear a tie. TAKE THAT, DA MAN.
Ironically, the fact that I was wearing what could be described as the most regulation mufti clothes ever envisaged still didn't stop me getting told off for apparently looking like a hippy. Here's what happened because I know you are DYING to know. I was walking down the road, listening to some rockin tunes on my iPod when suddenly who appears out of a sidestreet, but THE HEADMASTER OF OUR SCHOOL. OMG. He looks kind of like a huge angry bald owl wearing a suit half a size too small, and he has the most amazing quality of seeming to hate every boy in the school, and completely lacking any semblence of a sense of humour. When he saw me, shirt untucked, no tie, wearing trainers, he looked me up and down with eyes of fury and an expression that could only be replicated by throwing a bucket of icy water and chives over a sleeping cat. Literally, I thought he was about to rip off my head right there and then. I mentally made my will (I want all of my possessions, clothes, furniture and all, loaded into my coffin and melted down) before both wetting AND shitting myself. It was messy.
"YOU DON'T LOOK LIKE A BOY WHO GOES TO MY SCHOOL" he boomed in a voice that would cause Lucifer to cry like a little bitch. I wondered briefly what to say then reverted to curling into a little fetal ball and weeping.
"OH WAIT," he said again, thoughtfully. "IT'S MUFTI TODAY, ISN'T IT?"
He then gave me a look of utter hatred, as if I had somehow aimed to make him look stupid, or as though I had dug up his great grandmother's remains and made an amateur porn movie before distributing it to every boy, teacher, and member of the cleaning staff (AKA the scum) in the school. He then marched up the road at double pace, growling and probably making a mental note to have my lunch poisoned. He is a scary man.
What annoyed me about this situation (after the feeling had returned to my legs and I had drunk several strong cups of tea) was that the mufti I was wearing was like as conformist as it gets. I feel that I was unfairly treated. I mean, if he'd seen the rest of the damn school I bet that he'd've had a fecken embolism. Because, when mufti day rolls around, you won't find a more wretched den of brand-whores, wannabe-rebels and emo scum than my school. It's actually depressing to see the number of TOTALLY ROCKIN' middle class anti-conformist freakz that come outta the woodwork whenever they're given the slightest chance to express their unique and beautiful personalities.
I can just about stand the fat public schoolboys who have never even seen a skateboard wearing Quicksilver bandannas, or the rich semi-black mummy's boys who haven't been out of Teddington except to come to school and go on holiday to Rock or St Ives wearing their gangsta-rap jeans, or the statistics students with braces wearing their Che Guavara hats that their mums bought them the last time they went to Kingston. I see the inherent hilarious comedy in the demi-Emos who wander about in their ultra-tight jeans and stupid belts and silly haircuts, trying to pretend that A: anybody cares about their stupid fashion or sham of a lifestyle and B: being emo means ANYTHING any more (after the original hazy days of emo-dom when emos were worshipped for the nihilistic self-destructive streak and being emo was cooler than being black). No, what really annoys me is those cunts who wear the most stupid fucking things they possibly can just to show off their awesome anti-conformist viewpoint on life.
I don't mean people who go all-out to look ridiculous in order to make fun of themselves and the entire concept of self-image (Like that guy who was dressed as the Flash - LEGEND). To clarify, my words are more directed at people who think that they are making some sort of deep social point by dressing like a mong. I have the opinion that people who have nothing to say are usually the ones who try to make themselves look interesting by coming to school wearing full miliary dress and stilettos; the interesting kids are usually the ones dressed the most boringly (like in, say, a linen shirt and black trousers - YES I THINK I'M INTERESTING GET OVER IT). To exemplify and clarify further, my words are mostly directed at the twat who decided to show up to school wearing the following things:
- A bowler hat.
- Makeup (like, white stuff on his face and Clockwork Orange style eyeliner)
- A jet black T-Shirt of a metal band I'd wager good money he's never seen live.
- A stupid belt.
- Black jeans that were wider than he was tall.
- About 5kg of bright silver jewelery in the form of necklaces and bangles.
- A FUCKING BLACK TUTU OVER THE TOP OF ALL OF THIS.
I mean, christ. A tutu. What. The fuck. Was he thinking? I can't possibly hazard a guess. Actually, yes I can. He was thinking "OMG I CAN REALLY STAND OUT AND BE COOL BY WEARING ALL THIS NON-CONFORMIST STUFF OMG THE GUYS ARE GONNA FREAK I'M SUCH A REBEL LOL LOL LOL!!!!1!". I could tell that by the smug way he stood in the middle of the corridor so I couldn't possibly not look at him, hands on hips, as if to say "Yep, look at me, I'm wearing a tutu. Are you? No, because you aren't a rebel like me. I fucking owned you on the rebellious front, mate. You suck. I don't though, because I'm a rebel. REBEL. That's me."
I suppose he had a point; after all, all the great rebels of history (Winston Churchill, that guy who started the french revolution, Kurt Cobain, Mr Linkin Park, Hitler) are known first and foremost for the wild and wacky clothes that they wore. Did you know that Tolstoy, the man who single handedly revolutionised and bucked the trend of the modern novel, chose to write wearing bright yellow flares, a trilby hat and a pink ribbon? It's true. So true.
I was thinking about tracking down and beating that tutu guy to death with my teeth, just for being a stupid prick, but then I was struck by a happy thought. I came to the realisation that I have absolutely no recollection of what this guy looked like, what his voice sounded like, what he was even saying. I probably walked past him in the corridor three times today and I didn't even give him a second glance. This leads me to believe that he actually is a total non-entity and that in fifteen years time he will be yet another boring accountant or lawyer or stock trader, another pointless statistic in a mind-numbingly depressing vortex of isolation who cries himself to sleep every night over the total fucking pointlessness of his existance before finally blowing off his head with a sniper rifle, mourned by nobody but his gay little dog and his collection of porcelain models of Usher, while the smart kids, the ones who didn't waste time dressing up like retarded clowns to gain social acceptance and instead just watched the world and thought about things, get to have fun with their lives and express themselves in a non-homosexual manner.
This thought made me happy. Very happy. I'm so bitter. MWAHAHAHHAHAH!
New Cartoon:
(click for bigger)
And as a final note, people who wear rings are fucking retarded. Dickheads.
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