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I have really bad backache, be nice to me.

 
Now, I've been meaning to write this moan up for absolute yonks, as the existence of these objects has niggled me since their creation. They are pointless, ridiculous, impractical and generally stupid, and I loathe them passionately. They are a bane on my existence, but offer humour whenever someone who owns them finds themselves in a compromising position, such as stuck in a door.

I am talking about rave pants. I hate them.

I'd better explain what they are to the unknowing of you before I carry on. Rave pants, or octopus pants, are those trousers with the stupid tassles hanging off. Just wasted strips of fabric attached to a pair of baggies. I personally think they look ridiculous, but just about everyone, including everyone who has no right wearing any form of baggies, is wearing them.

What is the point? A waste of fabric, they must weigh a ton, and their potential for getting stuck in stuff is phenomenal! Just imagine when it rains (and I appeal to the baggie-wearing community to back me up here), they must soak up a large portion of the town. The tassles would absorb the rain as it falls as well, adding to the liquid content, making it all the worse. I've walked home in big baggie jeans with half of Romford up my legs, but they must be worse.

And then there's the issue of them getting stuck in things, wrapped around stuff, and tied to things by sneaky people like me. Only once have I been tempted, mind. But let me tell you a little story: in Helen's ICT class, there was a girl wearing rave pants. Every time she stood up, she took the chair with her.That can't be very good can it? What if she'd been in a mixed exam and got up with the first set of people going, and the chair clattered all over the floor? Very annoying.

But why are all these trendy people wearing them? They sneer at the alternative population, then take an idea and mutilate it. It's like when 'In the End' got too much radio play, it was alright before, and then it just got silly. Not that I endorse or even enjoy Linkin Park (see: Reanimation, cross-reference with: Bad Sounding Attempt to Make Money). But do you get what I mean? They mock us then wear baggies. Yes, their baggies are ridiculous, impractical and available in white, which is a big mistake when paintguns are so readily available too, but baggies belong to the alternative scene. You see hip hop people wearing them too, but you shouldn't see wannabe trendy musically flawed hypocritical arseholes wearing them, even if they do have loads of stupid tasselly things on them.

And don't even get me started on the bloody punk revival that currently fills Top Shop.

I won't rant for too long though, because my opinion is outweighed by the volume of the damn things. But I will tell you my cunning plan for rave pants and their owners: you know the Jubilee line on the London Underground? Well at Wterloo there are two sets of sliding doors when you get off the train, one set on the train itself and the other set on the platform. Put as many rave-panted people on the train, then make them all get off at Waterloo. The train doesn't stop long enough for that to happen, so someone will get stuck in the doors. Mwahahaha!

 
That bruise? Still there. It's gone yellow now, so not so cool but never mind.

And what the hell is up with the weather? This is England! Where is our thunderstorm?! And don't say it might be here tomorrow, because the heat is unbearable!

I am done.

Today, for no apparent reason, I feel like promoting till work. Now, anyone who has ever had to operate a till for any period of time will know how mind-numbingly shite it is. Let's face facts, people, till work sucks. It sucks, that is, unless you have a mobile phone and no customers. Today, thankfully, I was only on the till for about half an hour in the late afternoon, in which time I served a grand total of 5 customers. That's an average of 1 every 6 minutes. And the most expensive transaction was £2.68. That is what I call a slow afternoon. In that time I sent and received 10 text messages, keeping me thoroughly alive despite the heat and dodgy music. No, there was no point for any of that, but I'm happy so ner to those of you that I don't like. Barbeque tomorrow, should be something to write about there...

 
Raa! How have you all been? I was good, until SOMEONE knocked me over when we were ice skating yesterday, and caused a large (but very cool) bruise on my chin. Going home looking like you've received a left hook is not the best of ideas with my parents, especially with the size of this lump. Damn you Jonny, you deserve more than a smack in the eye!

And the other day I went to see my friend in a ballet production of Sleeping Beauty in Westcliff, and Sleeping Beauty had just fallen down asleep after pricking her finger, her family and friends gathered round in shocked silence, when a little girl in the row behind shouted out, 'She's dead!' Classic.

But anyhoo, I'm sure there was something pressing that I was going to talk about. Not Wagon Wheels or Nesquik again, but I think it was food related. Or foot related. Hmm.

No, it was dance music. I was going to complain about how dance music just ain't what it used to be. Last night was the disco, and they were playing lots of old stuff, and I mean really old. I'm talking back once again for the renegade master old. And older. Sounds of my childhood! The stuff rocks. I'll be telling everyone that if they're looking for devotion, talk to me, show me show me show me baby. You've got to give it to me give it to me give it to me. Or perhaps not, but I love all that, because it was good and reminds me of tons of cool times.

And then it all went wrong somewhere around '96 I think. Originality went out the window, and all the good DJ's took too many E tablets or something, because it got shit. Now don't write telling me that that's when it got good, because I thoroughly disagree. You are entitled to your opinion, but this is my page so ner. The Hotstepper came and went, we ceased to Jump Around at inappropriate moments (except me and Bill, that is), and loads of good stuff from the days of musical yore was sampled and murdered. I'm talking Loving You for example, which was sped up and mutilated, loads of nice classical tunes were stripped and fudged with, and, possibly worst of all, they found power ballads and... used them. You can take those Broken Wings and shove them up your arse for all I care now! You killed a perfectly tacky song! Unforgivable.

What happened? Did the raves stop? Did ecstacy try floating and the shareholders were too in love with each other to make it work? I don't know. Does an underground 90's dance movement fester in the dark as we speak? Or shall we never again feel the urge to tell the world that we Can't Get No Sleep? In fact, I'm not even sure that that's what that song was called. No! I'm forgetting!

I guess it's one of those tastes and people changing kind of things. I mean, you just don't hear so much Brit-pop indie kind of stuff anymore, but I'm sure it still exists. I get the feeling that I'm one of the only people who actually misses this stuff though... I'm a Dreamer!