Top 5 Bill Bryson pricks
SERENA GOSLING lays into some of the wankers she often sees around Billy B.
So I get up early, lug my stuff across town all the way from Crossgate and find a nice spot in Bill Bryson to do a day of nice hard work. Unfortunately, I’m surrounded by pricks who think it’s a great idea to ruin my plans. Here are some of the ones who really fuck me off:
The Popular One
They came with friends (darling, when are they ever seen without them?) and, 5 minutes after they’ve sat down, the non-stop stage whispers ensue. Not only that, but they know everyone else in the library too, so every five minutes your studies will be interrupted by another devil-spawn who stops to socialise with this ‘Queen Bee; of the library world, making conversation so loud that you’d think they were at either end of Cardiac Hill. Being British and, err, not part of their clique, you feel unable to ask them to keep their raucous voices down, so you’re forced to sit through the same conversation about ‘What Lauren did last night’ repeated to every individual that chances to walk by.
They arrived early, set up their stuff, sat down and…went. Then came back. Then went. Then…you get the picture. They never spend more than about 10 minutes in their seat, and constantly interrupt your studies with their ceaseless migration. You’re distracted every time they vacate and, when they come back, your eyes are unwillingly drawn to their new food or drink product. Soon, this selfish excuse for a student has not only made themselves the master of procrastination, but forced you to be their second in command. There goes your hopes of finishing this essay
The One That Plays Their Music Too Loud
This one is, perhaps, the most inconsiderate of the lot. Thoughtful people check BEFORE they plug their headphones in that it is quiet enough for the surrounding tables not to hear them. Instead, this cretin subjects everyone around them to some god-awful Eton Messy that’s so loud you begin to wonder whether you should kindly suggest they get their ears checked. It’s been a pretty decent trek to get here, so you can’t just go home. Instead, you resign yourself to the equivalent of a sober night at NOVA, praying that tomorrow will be more productive.
They come in holding hands, sit down in perfect synchrony and manage to keep some level of body contact throughout the four hours they spend ruining the landscape of your vision. Refusing to do work, they share cute little Youtube videos with each other, giggling constantly and forcing their disgusting shows of PDA upon us. Just as those around them are about to shove fingers down their throats, they get up in their ridiculously happy and loved up way, fingers still interlocked, and leave. You feel cheated, having just had your normally most productive hours of the day stolen from right in front of you. To all those guilty of this, if you’re really that horny, go see if you can tick off ‘sex in the library’ from your bucket list, preferably somewhere far away from where I am trying to work. I’ve heard the fourth floor is currently unoccupied.
You know the sort. Every time you look up they’re stalking someone, Facebook chatting away, or Facebook chatting about someone that they are currently stalking. As far as you can tell they aren’t actually doing anything useful, and don’t look like they’re going to either. Even after they have stalked all they can and are chatted out, rather than knuckling down to work, they watch cat videos on Youtube, whilst you spend the rest of your day trying not to be distracted by the movement you can see out of the corner of your eye. Surely their bed is a much comfier place for this shit?!