Should I be alarmed that my son has come home from school with the words to an R Kelly song that they’re having to sing at assembly?
It’s not so much the song but if any of those poor kids was to type his name into Google they might get an education far beyond their years. Perhaps I’ll teach my boy how to spell ‘paedophilia’ and let him Google that instead...
Why is it that teenagers feel the urge to take hundreds of photos whilst doing the most ordinary of things? I spent the better part of my Sunday at the beach the other day which allowed me to partake in one of my favourite pastimes; people watching.
Unfortunately places like the beach are a Mecca for the young and desperate to be noticed, so it’s hard for a fella to sit there with his blu-blockers on trying hard not to look like a perv. I need not have worried though because they were far more obvious dirty old men than I on show but even that didn’t dissuade those gagging for attention from doing their thing.
I was watching a bunch of young teenage girls in bikini’s capturing each other’s every move on their phones and cameras. I wasn’t watching them in a ‘keep looking so I can have a wank about it at home’ kind of way, I did look at other things, but inevitably every time I looked back the cameras were a flashin.
Undoubtedly those photos would have been uploaded to the owners Bebo pages later that evening and everybody who was there on the day, tagged, so those that weren’t there could identify who was...just in case there was any doubt 275 photos later who had actually been there and who hadn’t.
Closer to me were two other similarly aged and clad young ladies who did the same with their cell phones, in between numerous, desperate calls to young men begging them to come join them. The fellas never showed and I wasn’t surprised, they were probably at home prowling through Bebo pages checking out photo’s of other young girls at the beach.
Nobody took photos like that back in my day. If you were lucky enough to have a camera – one with a film and a winder that you could never quite tell had worked or not – then it was unlikely you carried it with you on account of it being about the same size and weight as a brick. If you did take photos the chances were it would be several months before you saw them anyway because it took that long to take the 25 pictures you needed to in order to complete the film.
Once you got them back from the camera shop (where developing took days, not minutes) you would relive the memories the badly exposed shots would bring and curse the ones where you had had your finger over the shutter. And there was always two or three photos less than the 25 the bloody thing had said you’d taken...
Back then it was all about living in and experiencing the moment. Now it’s more about getting dozens of great photos that show you were there and fuck the moment. In a way it’s all about the self promotion that the youth of today seem to think they have to make of themselves in order to get anywhere with anyone.
Girls, who I’ve already discussed my theory on how they do things primarily to impress other girls, not fellas, treat every photo as if it was some raunchy magazine shoot. Look through any online album and there will be young women pouting, giving it their ‘best side’ and slutting it up as if their lives depended on it.
Not that making a tit of yourself is an all exclusive sheila’s club because the young men that they inevitably attract do a pretty good job too, doing their best to look right hard by doing the finger or tensing every muscle from the neck up every time a camera is pointed in their direction. Being surrounded by drunk, loose young women it would seem, is not enough for a fella to sit back with a smile as wide as his stiffie is tall.
There was one other highlight to be seen at the beach; the foreign bird who stripped down to her bra and undies did a spot of topless sun bathing too. Or so my wife tells me. I missed it because I had gone to get the family lunch from New World where, unfortunately, no one had their Scandinavian nungas out.
What a pity my wife didn’t take a photo...
It’s not so much the song but if any of those poor kids was to type his name into Google they might get an education far beyond their years. Perhaps I’ll teach my boy how to spell ‘paedophilia’ and let him Google that instead...
Why is it that teenagers feel the urge to take hundreds of photos whilst doing the most ordinary of things? I spent the better part of my Sunday at the beach the other day which allowed me to partake in one of my favourite pastimes; people watching.
Unfortunately places like the beach are a Mecca for the young and desperate to be noticed, so it’s hard for a fella to sit there with his blu-blockers on trying hard not to look like a perv. I need not have worried though because they were far more obvious dirty old men than I on show but even that didn’t dissuade those gagging for attention from doing their thing.
I was watching a bunch of young teenage girls in bikini’s capturing each other’s every move on their phones and cameras. I wasn’t watching them in a ‘keep looking so I can have a wank about it at home’ kind of way, I did look at other things, but inevitably every time I looked back the cameras were a flashin.
Undoubtedly those photos would have been uploaded to the owners Bebo pages later that evening and everybody who was there on the day, tagged, so those that weren’t there could identify who was...just in case there was any doubt 275 photos later who had actually been there and who hadn’t.
Closer to me were two other similarly aged and clad young ladies who did the same with their cell phones, in between numerous, desperate calls to young men begging them to come join them. The fellas never showed and I wasn’t surprised, they were probably at home prowling through Bebo pages checking out photo’s of other young girls at the beach.
Nobody took photos like that back in my day. If you were lucky enough to have a camera – one with a film and a winder that you could never quite tell had worked or not – then it was unlikely you carried it with you on account of it being about the same size and weight as a brick. If you did take photos the chances were it would be several months before you saw them anyway because it took that long to take the 25 pictures you needed to in order to complete the film.
Once you got them back from the camera shop (where developing took days, not minutes) you would relive the memories the badly exposed shots would bring and curse the ones where you had had your finger over the shutter. And there was always two or three photos less than the 25 the bloody thing had said you’d taken...
Back then it was all about living in and experiencing the moment. Now it’s more about getting dozens of great photos that show you were there and fuck the moment. In a way it’s all about the self promotion that the youth of today seem to think they have to make of themselves in order to get anywhere with anyone.
Girls, who I’ve already discussed my theory on how they do things primarily to impress other girls, not fellas, treat every photo as if it was some raunchy magazine shoot. Look through any online album and there will be young women pouting, giving it their ‘best side’ and slutting it up as if their lives depended on it.
Not that making a tit of yourself is an all exclusive sheila’s club because the young men that they inevitably attract do a pretty good job too, doing their best to look right hard by doing the finger or tensing every muscle from the neck up every time a camera is pointed in their direction. Being surrounded by drunk, loose young women it would seem, is not enough for a fella to sit back with a smile as wide as his stiffie is tall.
There was one other highlight to be seen at the beach; the foreign bird who stripped down to her bra and undies did a spot of topless sun bathing too. Or so my wife tells me. I missed it because I had gone to get the family lunch from New World where, unfortunately, no one had their Scandinavian nungas out.
What a pity my wife didn’t take a photo...
Now this is a photo...
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