On Hipsters

I decided to write this before blogging about hipsters got all mainstream.

I never really considered myself a hipster until recently. I don't dress especially hipster, I only own one pair of chinos and while my band shirts are all fairly pretentious, they're pretentious in the sense that you know I only listen to the most critically acclaimed music of all time, rather than because I listen to bands you've never heard of.

That said, I did go to see a friend's band last night at a small, fairly hipster, bar venue in Bristol and hung around with members of the band afterwards.

But that's just how I roll, motherfuckers.

Anyway, hipsters. I'm beginning to think that I'm writing this blog post perhaps as an outlet for my subconscious to reassure myself that I'm not actually hipster, although it's becoming increasingly hard to fight off - one cannot battle against the metaphorical hipster virus as it was, naturally, there inside my body before it got mainstream and I joined it.

I think the thing most hipster about myself is my insufferable persistence in irony. It's got to the stage where I'm genuinely having a bit of an identity crisis as my entire life is lived ironically. It's all very well ironically (honestly) joking about how much 'gash' I am going to get because I'm such a 'lad', but those inverted commas are becoming increasingly less distinct in real life situations. It gets to the point when one jokes about how he loves nothing more than getting bitches to make sandwiches for him so often that he wonders if he really does want that.

Obviously in reality I'm the least laddish person in the world. Not only did I go round my friend's to help her with the washing up a few days ago but my ex-girlfriend also had the background picture on her phone as me making her a sandwich.

This is a bit of a gap-filling blog post because I realised nobody has blogged for nearly a week so I thought I'd step up to the plate (without sandwiches on it) and write this. My hipster friend assures me that hipster jokes are lame now, probably because they're so incredibly mainstream, so I will try my hardest not to leave a closing statement riddled with a hipster-joke essence.

Instead, here's a picture of me rocking up to the first showing of Harry Potter dressed as Darth Maul.

God, that's unbearably ironic. And Darth Maul sure looks fly in those chinos.