There is, i wish i could say rare, a special breed of person, whereby they think they are Rambo and must protect their girlfriend to the point where she would be at more risk if she was 80km underground and locked in a cell. Not following? That’s okay. Maybe its my writing, or maybe its just you. See, you bricklayer, I’m talking about your over fueled testosterone habits. Just because someone might accidentally glance in the general area of you or your soon to be ex-girlfriend, doesn’t mean that they are craving a fight, nor do they think they would like to have crack at your girlfriend either.

But you are after a fight aren’t you. You’re the type of person that wakes up at 5am, so you can mix some cement and stack some bricks to form your urban Mona Lisa now aren’t you. You simply can’t wait till it hits 4pm so you can “knock off” work, get angry at your girlfriend for whatever reason, then drag both her and your unimpressed presence to the local bar for a couple, which translates into 6+, Jack Daniels and cokes. Perhaps this is the catalyst drug for your pulpy brain. Turns you from an ordinary idiot, to level dickhead in under an hour. You immediately get in your Thai Boxing uniform and start looking for trouble. How dare anyone turn around and glance in your general direction.

But here’s the thing, the one thing you simply can’t grasp. No one cares about you. No one wants to hook up with your girlfriend. If anything, if anyone is looking, its because of your dumb ass haircut. Stock standard for your type. But what annoys me is, you just suck the life out of the place, since the very first step you place in the bar/club. You bring this hostility with you and stink out the place. Who knew, that someone so dumb as you, required such a high degree of etiquette for someone to be “alright bro”.

If someone bumps into you, don’t start swinging from the vines and create a stink, it was an accident, you bump into everyone like the big steam roller you built yourself into, but does anyone care? Unless you turned us into a pancake, or spilt over an entire drink, we will probably be the ones that will say sorry, just to make it all good. But no, you keep walking, like you own the place. But guess what, we don’t think you are the modern Tony Montana from Scarface, the only thing that we’re intimidated by, is catching an STD from getting within 2 metres of your greasy presence.

Get over yourself, honestly. Start cooling down after your steroid injections after your pump and crunch sessions at the gym. You’ve obviously starved your brain of oxygen or over watched too many seasons of Sopranos. If we didn’t have people like you we wouldn’t have the need for such high security at pubs, clubs, bars and even Mc Donalds, not that i visit that hole of a place anyhow.