From the realm of the tightly-wound and twitchy, how to eat out while being a needy, neurotic, self-dramatising pinhead:

So far as I can make out, the rules are as follows.

First, you should expect the restaurant’s serving staff to be conveniently categorised by their sexual inclinations or some other “ally” attribute, as if that weren’t presumptuous and intrusive – and, you know, weird. And should a pleasingly downtrodden identity be available – and said person dragged into your luminous presence – then you can bestow upon them your glorious and not-at-all-self-serving affirmation.

Naturally, you should make sure everyone sees. And hey, who wouldn’t want to be wheeled out as a prop, an accessory, for someone else’s attention-seeking project?

Oh, and then – but of course – you video yourself talking, with a mouth full of food, about how morally superior you are, before uploading this proof of your own magnificence to social media. Where applause will surely follow.

Please update your files and lifestyles accordingly.

Also, open thread.




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