Dear unfashionable yobbos. Go fuck yourself. You fill commerce classes (hoping to get into advertising or something equally asinine), you buy Rod and Gunn collared shirts, you listen to bad music, you are the vapid shit on society’s shoes.

But I’m not a yobbo, you say to yourself while calling someone wearing designer clothing an emo. Yes, yes, you are. If you need any proof answer me these questions more than three (I would give you mutli choice because I know you’re not particularly adept at thinking, but I don‘t want to pander to knuckle dragging fuck wits).

Did you take first year Law to impress your parents (but secretly knowing you weren‘t intelligent enough to make it to second year) and girls?

Do you call everything and everyone gay, fag or faggot yet are a closet homosexual (you don‘t know you are, but you are)?

Do you call everyone who doesn’t dress like you an emo?

Do you drink RTDs, Radler, wear a polo shirt (and aren’t a punk/golfer) and/or go to bars on Courtenay Place?

Did you go to an all boys private school, proud of this, and weren‘t intelligent, controversial, homosexual or a skater?

If the answer to any of those was yes, then you are a Yobbo. If you answered no to all of these then you are probably lying and are a Yobbo. If you thought answering or even reading them was beneath you then congratulations you aren’t a yobbo but instead a self important cunt. I welcome you. Let’s go to Mighty Mighty/Good Luck/Havana/that members-only bar and talk about David Lynch and/or The Velvet Underground. Why can’t you yobbos be more like us? We don’t get into fights, we just sit around thinking about how much better we are than you and each other. This may seem like the holy making fun of the inept hell bound Gomorrans in but you are uniformly unimpressive and I do genuinely hate you.

Ok, breaking people down to easily recognisable stereotypes is lazy, but I sleep comfortably with the notion that one day you all will die, and it just might be by my hands.