Is that your 156 i.q. declaring itself redundant, replied Lucas to his brown tweed suited biology teacher, who for the clichéd timed attempted to irritate Lucas with sun dried tomato sarcasm.
The staff room reeked of dry age, teachers who were in a constant struggle to accept that they were no longer hormonal teenagers obeying their hormones as they pissed themselves laughing at last night’s episode of South Park. These teachers found Dad’s Army funny, but deluded themselves into thinking that Dad’s Army was a sitcom that one could only enjoy if they had entered the requiem for the deceased by hilarity.
Bod is a nuisance. Not just for society and not only for himself but also, brown tweed suits. Brown tweed suits are acceptable in the countryside but only of course when the rain graces the grassroots with its presence. I’m not a moron; I’m not one of those frat lads or sorority girls that you read about in your glossy magazines, that decorate coffee tables, that give pretentious guests the impression that you’re an aristocrat. I’m not a European who hugs everyone. I’m just a member of middle England who finds brown tweed suited Bods annoying and everyone queuing behind him to buy a ten pence Chomp.
Break times are the most amusing, well not amusing for me but amusing for them. She wears a suit; not quite the power suit but not the eighties bow either. It’s a pastel pink and she walks with bent knees, brushing her hair before each class starts. And there’s the busted buckled waistcoat. He’s quite young but that does not grant him the licence to act like a Bod. Age has less to do with it. It’s the institution; it ages you and changes you. Pastel suit is much older than him, she ought to be setting him an example but she’s a victim of boddism as well. I have a headache she told him and she was rewarded with a peck on the cheek. Gosh, did you see that? She questions her class who she thinks, will think she’s one of them. Pink suit you haven’t pulled, calm down. You feel like telling her to stop watching those Clark adverts, they’re just a ploy; you really don’t have to act your shoe size. But busted waistcoat also thinks he’s the man because a few of the students fancy him.
They dance to Boyzone and think that Nelly Furtado is cool. She isn’t. Nor are Boyzone a group that you dance to. Marks and Spencer shopper does a very strange dance; one would think she was Bod’s fiancée but, she doesn’t smell. Well she does, but she doesn’t smell bad. She really fancies herself, you can tell she does because she’s always batting her eyelids, probably at Scarecrow, who she thinks fancies her. Maybe he does, but who gives a shit. Teachers think their love lives are very interesting but they’re not. Their love lives suck because they’re past their sell by date. Wine bottles look outdated, and picking your mistress up is crass.
We have this event; it gives Bods a full licence to act like teen hormones. It’s for charity, not like Red Nose Day and Comic Relief but more like school charity. We do sketches and shit like that. Bods then really think they’re the latest fad in the charts when they get their brass band out and start their 6o’s swinging.
Why do I complain about Bodisms? Because over the years I’ve realised that it’s not just in the schools that these morons are being bred. Bods have expanded to other vicinities and I’m afraid. No. I’m terrified. I’m terrified that I may become one.
I know a lot more than you, Lukey. That’s Lucas sir. Lucas. Responded Lucas. There is only so much sound bite that is registered into a teenagers mind. And mind numbing shit is the limit. Brown tweed suited Bods trying to be funny is pushing a teenager a little far, because it creates an image in the teenagers mind. The image of a middle aged man, wearing saggy jeans and a dated t-shirt in a nightclub using not words like groovy, but buzzing. Fathers. Paternal figures. They should not use words such as buzzing. Teenagers should not use words such as buzzing, it certifies that, uncontrollable hormoned person will become a Bod. Buzzing words are created by fads. Fads work for Smash Hits magazine. If you read Smash Hits, then you will one day either support a brown tweed suit, or a pink pastel suit. I doubt it if you were will ever wear a busted waistcoat. You have to be a special type of Bod that wears busted waistcoats.
When you leave the institution of Bods, you expect it to remain the same, you expect all the Bods to be laughing at the same jokes. In the same way that you always think that Dungeons and Dragons will be the best cartoon ever made.
But when you put Dungeons and Dragons on again ten years later, or if you’re flicking through the sky channels and you come across Fox Kids, you realise that it’s not as cool as you thought it was. Bods change. You don’t think: oh they weren’t that bad. You realise that they’re worse. And they will grow worse as each year passes by. They will murder what little faith we have left inside us.
Where are our mentors? I asked one Bod-reject. They died Lucas. They took off their black gowns and they put away their canes. Brown tweed suits became affordable. Commercialism always pays off. Souls are redundant Lucas. Just read a book for inspiration. Preferably a classic, when it was still extortionate to publish a book. You may just find a little credibility in them. But look hard Lucas. Search and never give up. Bods have always existed; it’s just a matter of discovering what they used to wear. Before brown tweed suits and after black gowns.
Bod-reject died. He died after I left the institution of Bods. And libraries are no longer free.