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Clubs Day

Lydia Mcaulay



Ahh… the institution of clubs day, how mundane it is from year to year if you are not a social enthusiast of the miscellaneous nature. It appears that for years people like yourself have fallen to the wayside. Have gone it alone, devoid of the kind of recognition that only the institution of the club can offer you. It is apparent that upon this clubs day a revolution is at hand, is on the cards.
For today I offer an alternative to the cliché that is ‘socialising’. Today I say ‘no’ to friend groups, common interests and conversation. Do not be fooled my antisocial friends, the day has dawned on a new era of acceptance for anti-social behaviour. This clubs day there will be a new breed of club: the anti social club. Be embraced by the acceptance you will attain from never meeting your anti social club members at regular meetings, which you will, as a pleasant surprise, never be expected to attend. Some would call it a conundrum or catastrophy in the realm of clubs. I would call it a breath of fresh air for the community of the socially disinclined.
I’d like to walk you through an all too common scenario illustrating a disregard for anti social preferences. Say there was a person, let’s call them person x. Let’s imagine for one moment that this given person, person x, was say walking down the street, any street, though for those among us who favour the whole story, lets call it Hankey street. Another person approaches: person y. They portray the irritating social flexibility of being able to greet person x, whom they’ve never met before (!) with the fallacy of the friendly smile and/or the head nod/ raising of the eyebrows. What is person x to do? Person x did not sign up for this, the lack of conscious choice involved in this kind of social interaction is strikingly perverse. Person x should be allowed to simply be overtly anti social in public, and to say fuck them. But alas, person x does not have the gumption to respond. (Unfortunately insults also require a certain level of social skill.) The anti social club offers some answers to this kind of problem through inaction. You don’t have to take this anymore, the answer is: stay at home and take up solitary drinking – though beware at a later date you may have to suffer through the social interaction of Alcoholics Anonymous. Damn those prying socially responsible types.
Let’s revise: Peer pressure seminars attendance not required nor is the issue any longer an issue. Not to mention trips to the anti social old movies, no talking being the bonus of this kind of social event. Two words … eye contact. This is an eternal problem. It seems there’s a wide -ranging group of people who come to expect this kind of disgusting, indeed ridiculous behaviour. Needless to say our problems will be addressed in the anonymous forum of email to the ghastly group of people that are the ‘class reps’. (Why you would want to deliberately confer with ‘people’ is beyond the anti social club.) This email will detail the inappropriate nature of eye contact and indeed overt encouragement through any social means as inappropriate.
Pamphlets and flyers will soon be circulated in accordance with the anti social agenda concerning the subjects of: appropriate games and activities, which will maintain a heightened sense of distance from your social peers. E.g.: Computer games, battle ship as long as a certain amount of silence is observed throughout (yipping noises made as a means of self encouragement are of course appropriate at all times). An obvious recognition of the resource that is the internet will be strongly exerted as the only realistic means (if indeed any is necessary) of socialising, the means of artificial conception via the internet will be explored as an obvious alternative.
Basically, to generalise, the future is coming. Let us embrace it in its most socially inept form. Make way for the children of the ‘let’s not hug’ era. May they prosper in their area of study (commerce) and bring fresh new faces and ideas to anti social of groups of the future.
To conclude… Fucken oats.