Do you dislike the mainstream social scene?

The Thing!

I find myself revolted almost to the point of illness every time I venture into the city centre for the purposes of indulging in what is frequently termed a “night out”. At every turn I am forced to see sights I don’t wish to see, hear sounds I don’t wish to hear. All in all it constitutes a veritable barrage of unpleasant sensory stimuli.

To sift through the darkest recesses of my worst memories, in order to establish exactly what it is about this phenomenon that I find most distasteful, is a difficult and deleterious undertaking, however it is one which I have gone about with great zeal as the act of isolating an entity’s most vexatious aspects can be a fruitful one if it aids future understanding.

Nightclubs should have a place closest to the centre of the inferno reserved until Beelzebub’s muses grant him the inspiration to fashion a more repugnant setting to torture his conquests. In these vile centres of depravity, the infliction of agony is as ceaseless as it is furious:

One steps inside, and instantly the soul shivers in its crystalline shell, fearing what it knows will come. One’s aural faculties are rendered useless at the point of entrance, as the mindless souls of the damned howl from all corners, signing their mirthless hymns of lunacy, and prevent all else from visiting the auditory lobe. Even the death cries of one’s own progeny would be sweet relief compared to the songs of these succubae

Deeper still into the sickening sea one ventures, where upon the aural agonies are lessened, but only by the greater weight placed on the other senses; man can only endure so much, the greatest pain will always take priority. Your nostrils are filled with the inky weight of a miasma so foul that it causes you to curse the very moment you first drew breath. Your eyes are torn at by images so terrible that all you previously thought to be the greatest evil is now close to comfort in comparison. You are at the bar. It is the hideous beating heart of the beast, and it pumps the fetid libations to all parts of this place; nowhere is saved.

Turning away in horror, you flee with the indifference of a madman, not fearing, for the worst has been seen. The aural assault lessens none, if anything it is all the more vehement. The crowds of the damned thicken. Soon you realise they are moving in formation, swaying in rhythm with the cursed beat. Plucked from your retreat into insanity, you begin to take in your surrounds, and soon the dreadful realisation dawns; you are on the dance floor. No worse, there is none. Bodies all around you, moving over each other, sicken misshapen faces twist with corrupt joy, eyes so dull they scarcely seem to hold even the faintest indication of life, less the likelihood that their own possess a soul. The sounds grow louder, the bodies grow closer, the sweat dripping odours stick to you and crawls over your skin like jealous maggots. Each face holds new terrors, each sounds deepens the cracks in your mental constitution. Even the purest memories shall forever be stained by merely occupying the same organ which assimilated these horrors. You push past the beasts. Tight cords of gristly twisting flesh squirm beneath your palms. Out, you must leave this place!!!! Frantic now, you push harder and harder. The smell is thick, almost tangible. Acrid sweat creeps from every pore. Out!!! Out!!! To the air, I must!!!!

Outside you walk the streets towards home, a light rain in the air. Those things which visited the very core of your being this night will never be forgotten, but at least you have learned one valuable lesson; never cross that threshold again…..

Edit: This serves no purpose other than providing a reason for my opinion. Please feel free to ignore it.

banquo

Night in with friends > night out, spending all my money while doing ''The Cuckoo'' with a little whore on her Junior Cert night in some nightclub.

Death.

AnonoBoy

Your solution in 5 easy steps:

1. Find a decent quiet pub.
2. Have a few pints with your friends.
3. Chat about whatever you so wish.
4. Enjoy evening.
5. Head Home and go to bed (No need to stay up writing lengthy posts on boards)

This message has been brought to you by AnonoBoy's School Of It Happens To Everyone When They Get Older.

I just hate people..

laugh

You are no fucking Joyce.

almostnever

tl;dr

Yeah,I hate going out too.

biko

Give me a nice pub any day over a club filled to the brim with "shirts and skirts", all tanked up on vodka and red bull.

Turd Ferguson

The Thing! wrote: »

I find myself revolted almost to the point of illness every time I venture into the city centre for the purposes of indulging in what is frequently termed a “night out”. At every turn I am forced to see sights I don’t wish to see, hear sounds I don’t wish to hear. All in all it constitutes a veritable barrage of unpleasant sensory stimuli.

To sift through the darkest recesses of my worst memories, in order to establish exactly what it is about this phenomenon that I find most distasteful, is a difficult and deleterious undertaking, however it is one which I have gone about with great zeal as the act of isolating an entity’s most vexatious aspects can be a fruitful one if it aids future understanding.

Nightclubs should have a place closest to the centre of the inferno reserved until Beelzebub’s muses grant him the inspiration to fashion a more repugnant setting to torture his conquests. In these vile centres of depravity, the infliction of agony is as ceaseless as it is furious:

One steps inside, and instantly the soul shivers in its crystalline shell, fearing what it knows will come. One’s aural faculties are rendered useless at the point of entrance, as the mindless souls of the damned howl from all corners, signing their mirthless hymns of lunacy, and prevent all else from visiting the auditory lobe. Even the death cries of one’s own progeny would be sweet relief compared to the songs of these succubae

Deeper still into the sickening sea one ventures, where upon the aural agonies are lessened, but only by the greater weight placed on the other senses; man can only endure so much, the greatest pain will always take priority. Your nostrils are filled with the inky weight of a miasma so foul that it causes you to curse the very moment you first drew breath. Your eyes are torn at by images so terrible that all you previously thought to be the greatest evil is now close to comfort in comparison. You are at the bar. It is the hideous beating heart of the beast, and it pumps the fetid libations to all parts of this place; nowhere is saved.

Turning away in horror, you flee with the indifference of a madman, not fearing, for the worst has been seen. The aural assault lessens none, if anything it is all the more vehement. The crowds of the damned thicken. Soon you realise they are moving in formation, swaying in rhythm with the cursed beat. Plucked from your retreat into insanity, you being to take in your surrounds, and soon the dreadful realisation dawns; you are on the dance floor. No worse, there is none. Bodies all around you, moving over each other, sicken misshapen faces twist with corrupt joy, eyes so dull they scarcely seem to hold even the faintest indication of life, less the likelihood that their own possess a soul. The sounds grow louder, the bodies grow closer, the sweat dripping odours stick to you and crawls over your skin like jealous maggots. Each face holds new terrors, each sounds deepens the cracks in your mental constitution. Even the purest memories shall forever be stained by merely occupying the same organ which assimilated these horrors. You push past the beasts. Tight cords of gristly twisting flesh squirm beneath your palms. Out, you must leave this place!!!! Frantic now, you push harder and harder. The smell is thick, almost tangible. Acrid sweat creeps from every pore. Out!!! Out!!! To the air, I must!!!!

Outside you walk the streets towards home, a light rain in the air. Those things which visited the very core of your being this night will never be forgotten, but at least you have learned one valuable lesson; never cross that threshold again…..

Would I be correct in the assumption that you are a virgin?

thomond2006

Rugby at Thomond Park FTW!

Kiera

Turd Ferguson wrote: »

Would I be correct in the assumption that you are a virgin?

How is that your business?

That's like you starting a thread for a serious discussion and me popping in and asking you "do you like an aul sneaky finger".

muppetkiller

Christ that was painful to read.

Turd Ferguson

Kiera wrote: »

How is that your business?

That's like you starting a thread for a serious discussion and me popping in and asking you "do you like an aul sneaky finger".

Is that an offer?

Jesus Wept

I can confirm that Turd Ferguson loves a cheeky finger.

xzanti

Somebody had a thesaurus for breakfast :pac:

Kiera

Turd Ferguson wrote: »

Is that an offer?

Nope.

The-Rigger wrote: »

I can confirm that Turd Ferguson loves a cheeky finger.

Oh, there you go, Turd.

Melange

The Thing! wrote: »

I find myself revolted almost to the point of illness every time I venture into the city centre for the purposes of indulging in what is frequently termed a “night out”. At every turn I am forced to see sights I don’t wish to see, hear sounds I don’t wish to hear. All in all it constitutes a veritable barrage of unpleasant sensory stimuli.

To sift through the darkest recesses of my worst memories, in order to establish exactly what it is about this phenomenon that I find most distasteful, is a difficult and deleterious undertaking, however it is one which I have gone about with great zeal as the act of isolating an entity’s most vexatious aspects can be a fruitful one if it aids future understanding.

Nightclubs should have a place closest to the centre of the inferno reserved until Beelzebub’s muses grant him the inspiration to fashion a more repugnant setting to torture his conquests. In these vile centres of depravity, the infliction of agony is as ceaseless as it is furious:

One steps inside, and instantly the soul shivers in its crystalline shell, fearing what it knows will come. One’s aural faculties are rendered useless at the point of entrance, as the mindless souls of the damned howl from all corners, signing their mirthless hymns of lunacy, and prevent all else from visiting the auditory lobe. Even the death cries of one’s own progeny would be sweet relief compared to the songs of these succubae

Deeper still into the sickening sea one ventures, where upon the aural agonies are lessened, but only by the greater weight placed on the other senses; man can only endure so much, the greatest pain will always take priority. Your nostrils are filled with the inky weight of a miasma so foul that it causes you to curse the very moment you first drew breath. Your eyes are torn at by images so terrible that all you previously thought to be the greatest evil is now close to comfort in comparison. You are at the bar. It is the hideous beating heart of the beast, and it pumps the fetid libations to all parts of this place; nowhere is saved.

Turning away in horror, you flee with the indifference of a madman, not fearing, for the worst has been seen. The aural assault lessens none, if anything it is all the more vehement. The crowds of the damned thicken. Soon you realise they are moving in formation, swaying in rhythm with the cursed beat. Plucked from your retreat into insanity, you being to take in your surrounds, and soon the dreadful realisation dawns; you are on the dance floor. No worse, there is none. Bodies all around you, moving over each other, sicken misshapen faces twist with corrupt joy, eyes so dull they scarcely seem to hold even the faintest indication of life, less the likelihood that their own possess a soul. The sounds grow louder, the bodies grow closer, the sweat dripping odours stick to you and crawls over your skin like jealous maggots. Each face holds new terrors, each sounds deepens the cracks in your mental constitution. Even the purest memories shall forever be stained by merely occupying the same organ which assimilated these horrors. You push past the beasts. Tight cords of gristly twisting flesh squirm beneath your palms. Out, you must leave this place!!!! Frantic now, you push harder and harder. The smell is thick, almost tangible. Acrid sweat creeps from every pore. Out!!! Out!!! To the air, I must!!!!

Outside you walk the streets towards home, a light rain in the air. Those things which visited the very core of your being this night will never be forgotten, but at least you have learned one valuable lesson; never cross that threshold again…..

TL;DR. That was fcuking strange.

Just go to a quiet, old-mannish pub for a few pints of stout with some friends. Hey, works for me.

Jet Black

Sick of night clubs now. Just head the local couple of pint's and a way better atmosphere.

Calibos

Another young man overcome by the exuberance of his own verbosity. :rolleyes:

HUNK

A1. This is an English essay right? :pac:

mikom

The Thing! wrote: »

I find myself revolted almost to the point of illness every time I venture into the city centre for the purposes of indulging in what is frequently termed a “night out”. At every turn I am forced to see sights I don’t wish to see, hear sounds I don’t wish to hear. All in all it constitutes a veritable barrage of unpleasant sensory stimuli.

To sift through the darkest recesses of my worst memories, in order to establish exactly what it is about this phenomenon that I find most distasteful, is a difficult and deleterious undertaking, however it is one which I have gone about with great zeal as the act of isolating an entity’s most vexatious aspects can be a fruitful one if it aids future understanding.

Nightclubs should have a place closest to the centre of the inferno reserved until Beelzebub’s muses grant him the inspiration to fashion a more repugnant setting to torture his conquests. In these vile centres of depravity, the infliction of agony is as ceaseless as it is furious:

One steps inside, and instantly the soul shivers in its crystalline shell, fearing what it knows will come. One’s aural faculties are rendered useless at the point of entrance, as the mindless souls of the damned howl from all corners, signing their mirthless hymns of lunacy, and prevent all else from visiting the auditory lobe. Even the death cries of one’s own progeny would be sweet relief compared to the songs of these succubae

Deeper still into the sickening sea one ventures, where upon the aural agonies are lessened, but only by the greater weight placed on the other senses; man can only endure so much, the greatest pain will always take priority. Your nostrils are filled with the inky weight of a miasma so foul that it causes you to curse the very moment you first drew breath. Your eyes are torn at by images so terrible that all you previously thought to be the greatest evil is now close to comfort in comparison. You are at the bar. It is the hideous beating heart of the beast, and it pumps the fetid libations to all parts of this place; nowhere is saved.

Turning away in horror, you flee with the indifference of a madman, not fearing, for the worst has been seen. The aural assault lessens none, if anything it is all the more vehement. The crowds of the damned thicken. Soon you realise they are moving in formation, swaying in rhythm with the cursed beat. Plucked from your retreat into insanity, you being to take in your surrounds, and soon the dreadful realisation dawns; you are on the dance floor. No worse, there is none. Bodies all around you, moving over each other, sicken misshapen faces twist with corrupt joy, eyes so dull they scarcely seem to hold even the faintest indication of life, less the likelihood that their own possess a soul. The sounds grow louder, the bodies grow closer, the sweat dripping odours stick to you and crawls over your skin like jealous maggots. Each face holds new terrors, each sounds deepens the cracks in your mental constitution. Even the purest memories shall forever be stained by merely occupying the same organ which assimilated these horrors. You push past the beasts. Tight cords of gristly twisting flesh squirm beneath your palms. Out, you must leave this place!!!! Frantic now, you push harder and harder. The smell is thick, almost tangible. Acrid sweat creeps from every pore. Out!!! Out!!! To the air, I must!!!!

Outside you walk the streets towards home, a light rain in the air. Those things which visited the very core of your being this night will never be forgotten, but at least you have learned one valuable lesson; never cross that threshold again…..

Are you Russell Brands love child?

stovelid

The Thing! wrote: »

I find myself revolted almost to the point of illness every time I venture into the city centre for the purposes of indulging in what is frequently termed a “night out”. At every turn I am forced to see sights I don’t wish to see, hear sounds I don’t wish to hear. All in all it constitutes a veritable barrage of unpleasant sensory stimuli.

To sift through the darkest recesses of my worst memories, in order to establish exactly what it is about this phenomenon that I find most distasteful, is a difficult and deleterious undertaking, however it is one which I have gone about with great zeal as the act of isolating an entity’s most vexatious aspects can be a fruitful one if it aids future understanding.

Nightclubs should have a place closest to the centre of the inferno reserved until Beelzebub’s muses grant him the inspiration to fashion a more repugnant setting to torture his conquests. In these vile centres of depravity, the infliction of agony is as ceaseless as it is furious:

One steps inside, and instantly the soul shivers in its crystalline shell, fearing what it knows will come. One’s aural faculties are rendered useless at the point of entrance, as the mindless souls of the damned howl from all corners, signing their mirthless hymns of lunacy, and prevent all else from visiting the auditory lobe. Even the death cries of one’s own progeny would be sweet relief compared to the songs of these succubae

Deeper still into the sickening sea one ventures, where upon the aural agonies are lessened, but only by the greater weight placed on the other senses; man can only endure so much, the greatest pain will always take priority. Your nostrils are filled with the inky weight of a miasma so foul that it causes you to curse the very moment you first drew breath. Your eyes are torn at by images so terrible that all you previously thought to be the greatest evil is now close to comfort in comparison. You are at the bar. It is the hideous beating heart of the beast, and it pumps the fetid libations to all parts of this place; nowhere is saved.

Turning away in horror, you flee with the indifference of a madman, not fearing, for the worst has been seen. The aural assault lessens none, if anything it is all the more vehement. The crowds of the damned thicken. Soon you realise they are moving in formation, swaying in rhythm with the cursed beat. Plucked from your retreat into insanity, you begin to take in your surrounds, and soon the dreadful realisation dawns; you are on the dance floor. No worse, there is none. Bodies all around you, moving over each other, sicken misshapen faces twist with corrupt joy, eyes so dull they scarcely seem to hold even the faintest indication of life, less the likelihood that their own possess a soul. The sounds grow louder, the bodies grow closer, the sweat dripping odours stick to you and crawls over your skin like jealous maggots. Each face holds new terrors, each sounds deepens the cracks in your mental constitution. Even the purest memories shall forever be stained by merely occupying the same organ which assimilated these horrors. You push past the beasts. Tight cords of gristly twisting flesh squirm beneath your palms. Out, you must leave this place!!!! Frantic now, you push harder and harder. The smell is thick, almost tangible. Acrid sweat creeps from every pore. Out!!! Out!!! To the air, I must!!!!

Outside you walk the streets towards home, a light rain in the air. Those things which visited the very core of your being this night will never be forgotten, but at least you have learned one valuable lesson; never cross that threshold again…..

Edit: This serves no purpose other than providing a reason for my opinion. Please feel free to ignore it.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=INgXzChwipY

The Thing and SarahChambers, sitting in a tree...

KevArno

What the hell was that... How could anyone enjoy themselves while sitting in the corner taking notes, and preparing for that visual assault!
You're in the wrong Pub, or with the wrong friends Thing. Like we don't all enjoy every bar or club in town.

Turd Ferguson

Calibos wrote: »

Another young man overcome by the exuberance of his own verbosity. :rolleyes:

Indeed

AnonoBoy

Calibos wrote: »

Another young man overcome by the exuberance of his own verbosity. :rolleyes:

Verily it is so.


OP - perhaps magic mushrooms and crowded nightclubs aren't a good mix, no?

mikom

The Thing! wrote: »

Those things which visited the very core of your being this night will never be forgotten, but at least you have learned one valuable lesson; never cross that threshold again….. unless you are wanked drunk

...

CrazyRabbit

I'll play devil's advocate and take the OP's side in this.

I don't drink alcohol myself and have a rather serious dislike of drunk people, or moreso, their behaviour.

I really dislike clubs for all their noise, chaos and hubris. Pubs can be just as bad but are generally more tolerable.

I'd much rather have a chat with some mates in an place where we don't have to shout at each other. A quiet pub is fine, but I'd prefer somewhere more comfortable that didn't stink of alcohol.

Maybe I'm just old...

opinion guy

Kiera wrote: »

How is that your business?
That's like you starting a thread for a serious discussion and me popping in and asking you "do you like an aul sneaky finger".

This is AH, what else should one expect ?
Doesn't Thing usually say It's Clobberin time rather than writing an essay ? Just try toning back the emo...

Turd Ferguson

CrazyRabbit wrote: »

I'll play devil's advocate and take the OP's side in this.

I don't drink alcohol myself and have a rather serious dislike of drunk people, or moreso, their behaviour.

I really dislike clubs for all their noise, chaos and hubris. Pubs can be just as bad but are generally more tolerable.

I'd much rather have a chat with some mates in an place where we don't have to shout at each other. A quiet pub is fine, but I'd prefer somewhere more comfortable that didn't stink of alcohol.

Maybe I'm just old...

You dont drink alcohol, so why go to a pub or club at all? This is what doesnt make sense to me. I dont like Chinese food so I dont go to Chinese restaurants....its pretty simple.

event

The Thing! wrote: »

I find myself revolted almost to the point of illness every time I venture into the city centre for the purposes of indulging in what is frequently termed a “night out”. At every turn I am forced to see sights I don’t wish to see, hear sounds I don’t wish to hear. All in all it constitutes a veritable barrage of unpleasant sensory stimuli.

To sift through the darkest recesses of my worst memories, in order to establish exactly what it is about this phenomenon that I find most distasteful, is a difficult and deleterious undertaking, however it is one which I have gone about with great zeal as the act of isolating an entity’s most vexatious aspects can be a fruitful one if it aids future understanding.

Nightclubs should have a place closest to the centre of the inferno reserved until Beelzebub’s muses grant him the inspiration to fashion a more repugnant setting to torture his conquests. In these vile centres of depravity, the infliction of agony is as ceaseless as it is furious:

One steps inside, and instantly the soul shivers in its crystalline shell, fearing what it knows will come. One’s aural faculties are rendered useless at the point of entrance, as the mindless souls of the damned howl from all corners, signing their mirthless hymns of lunacy, and prevent all else from visiting the auditory lobe. Even the death cries of one’s own progeny would be sweet relief compared to the songs of these succubae

Deeper still into the sickening sea one ventures, where upon the aural agonies are lessened, but only by the greater weight placed on the other senses; man can only endure so much, the greatest pain will always take priority. Your nostrils are filled with the inky weight of a miasma so foul that it causes you to curse the very moment you first drew breath. Your eyes are torn at by images so terrible that all you previously thought to be the greatest evil is now close to comfort in comparison. You are at the bar. It is the hideous beating heart of the beast, and it pumps the fetid libations to all parts of this place; nowhere is saved.

Turning away in horror, you flee with the indifference of a madman, not fearing, for the worst has been seen. The aural assault lessens none, if anything it is all the more vehement. The crowds of the damned thicken. Soon you realise they are moving in formation, swaying in rhythm with the cursed beat. Plucked from your retreat into insanity, you begin to take in your surrounds, and soon the dreadful realisation dawns; you are on the dance floor. No worse, there is none. Bodies all around you, moving over each other, sicken misshapen faces twist with corrupt joy, eyes so dull they scarcely seem to hold even the faintest indication of life, less the likelihood that their own possess a soul. The sounds grow louder, the bodies grow closer, the sweat dripping odours stick to you and crawls over your skin like jealous maggots. Each face holds new terrors, each sounds deepens the cracks in your mental constitution. Even the purest memories shall forever be stained by merely occupying the same organ which assimilated these horrors. You push past the beasts. Tight cords of gristly twisting flesh squirm beneath your palms. Out, you must leave this place!!!! Frantic now, you push harder and harder. The smell is thick, almost tangible. Acrid sweat creeps from every pore. Out!!! Out!!! To the air, I must!!!!

Outside you walk the streets towards home, a light rain in the air. Those things which visited the very core of your being this night will never be forgotten, but at least you have learned one valuable lesson; never cross that threshold again…..

Edit: This serves no purpose other than providing a reason for my opinion. Please feel free to ignore it.

christ thats embarrassing

Mossy Monk

laugh wrote: »

You are no fucking Joyce.

Isn't that the truth.

Kiera

Turd Ferguson wrote: »

You dont drink alcohol, so why go to a pub or club at all? This is what doesnt make sense to me. I dont like Chinese food so I dont go to Chinese restaurants....its pretty simple.

Would you go if all your mates hung out there a few times a week?

GavRedKing

I just voted no, each to there own though.

Turd Ferguson

Kiera wrote: »

Would you go if all your mates hung out there a few times a week?

Yes I would, but I would appreciate that the place will smell like Chinese food and will serve predominantly Chinese food. Complaining about it just seems silly and pointless

Cupcake_Crisis

Different strokes for differnt folks i suppose. Id say a lot of people from the 'mainstream social scene' wouldnt like the way i go about things. It takes all sorts to make a picnic...or so they say

Princess Consuela Bananahammock

60% agree with the OP - I am pleasantly surprised.

My main problem is that there are not that many alternatives to the "mainstream" scoial scene. Certainly not that much variety, anyway, within it. And anyone who chooses to do somethign different is immediately ridiculed. "Each to there own" is not, unfortauntely, very much in practice in Ireland. Dublin, anyway, rest of the country I can't imagine things being much different.

Nope, Turd, not a virgin, sorry to disappoint.

Kiera

Turd Ferguson wrote: »

Yes I would, but I would appreciate that the place will smell like Chinese food and will serve predominantly Chinese food. Complaining about it just seems silly and pointless

But you're saying she/he shouldnt go at all just because she/he doesnt drink.

Dublin_Gunner

Seriously OP - if you speak like that in real life, then its probably no wonder you have crap nights out.

Maybe you should stay in with your pipe & slippers in future.


Or was this an attempt to try and show of your somewhat strained literacy skills before handing in an essay?

Your post was trying just a little too hard to be clever, and ended up, well, crap.

But in general, my idea of a good night out: a few mates, the local, nice guinness, good chat.

Town = big no no. Its painful.

Zynks

Turd Ferguson wrote: »

Would I be correct in the assumption that you are a virgin?

Kiera wrote: »

How is that your business?

That's like you starting a thread for a serious discussion and me popping in and asking you "do you like an aul sneaky finger".

Turd Ferguson wrote: »

Is that an offer?

The-Rigger wrote: »

I can confirm that Turd Ferguson loves a cheeky finger.

LOL, and I got a three day ban recently because I posted a link to a BBC poll because it referred to f*****ll

AH is certainly in a league of its own.

Turd Ferguson

Kiera wrote: »

But you're saying she/he shouldnt go at all just because she/he doesnt drink.

No, I'm saying that if you go to a pub/club then dont complain about people being drunk or the place smelling like alcohol because that is what it does

The Thing!

Glad to see my opinion is in the majority, surprised, but glad nonetheless.

phasers

All my friends ever want to do is go to nightclubs, get pissed and eat disgusting fried food on the way home.

I can't get drunk no matter how hard I try (And I tried a lot when I was younger) and I hate being in really full places so I generally give it a miss. I end up staying home a lot.

I like going to dinner or the cinema or staying in to watch movies

Kiera

Turd Ferguson wrote: »

No, I'm saying that if you go to a pub/club then dont complain about people being drunk or the place smelling like alcohol because that is what it does

Was she really complaining tho? She doesnt like drunken idiots. I dont see that as moaning tbh. Fair enough she doesnt like the smell but why would that stop her hanging out with her mates if they go to the pub?

You're telling her she shouldnt go to a pub or club because she doesnt drink.

Cathy666

To answer the OP's question, yes, I dislike the mainstream social scene. Not because of drunk people or their behaviour though. I don't like 'mainstream' music, so clearly most pubs wouldn't suit me. I actually enjoy the company of drunken idiots, especially at festivals.

Anyway, if you're not into the mainstream social scene, try this: Don't go to clubs and pubs. Why not go to a restaurant, or to a dinner-dance (seems like the OP's kind of thing) or have friends over to your house instead?

jumpguy

One of the big drawbacks of the clubs is their music is too loud. Yeah, that's old manish, I know, but once I went out and I had titinus for FIVE days after it. On top of that, I had the hearing of a drooling old man in that time. It was a ****e night out too.

Sometimes though it can be good when the women are shlutty though and well worth it. It's hit and miss too much of the time though.

Turd Ferguson

Kiera wrote: »

Was she really complaining tho? She doesnt like drunken idiots. I dont see that as moaning tbh. Fair enough she doesnt like the smell but why would that stop her hanging out with her mates if they go to the pub?

You're telling her she shouldnt go to a pub or club because she doesnt drink.

It may have sounded like that but what I meant is that if you are going to complain about going to a place then dont go. And yes it was complaining. If someone doesnt like drunken idiots thats fine, but why then would you go to the drunken idiot breeding ground and complain when the place is full of drunken idiots?

Kiera

Turd Ferguson wrote: »

It may have sounded like that but what I meant is that if you are going to complain about going to a place then dont go. And yes it was complaining. If someone doesnt like drunken idiots thats fine, but why then would you go to the drunken idiot breeding ground and complain when the place is full of drunken idiots?

Who does like drunken idiots tho?

The Thing!

It appears that some posters are of the opinion that I am of advanced years. This is not the case. I am on this earth a mere twenty years. People of all ages are able to appreciate exactly how abhorrent the night club experience is.........

I am convinced that people young and old share my views on this topic.

nice1franko

Kiera wrote: »

Who does like drunken idiots tho?

other drunken idiots

Turd Ferguson

Kiera wrote: »

Who does like drunken idiots tho?

I do. I think they are great fun. Most people probably dont like them though, but they go to pubs/clubs anyway and they dont complain because they know what they are getting themselves in for. If you dont want to be around drunken idiots then stay at home or go to a restaurant or cafe or the cinema. There is a wealth of places that are not populated with those folk

nice1franko

The Thing! wrote: »

It appears that some posters are of the opinion that I am of advanced years. This is not the case. I am on this earth a mere twenty years. People of all ages are able to appreciate exactly how abhorrent the night club experience is.........

I am convinced that people young and old share my views on this topic.

Wait til you get your hole, young man and you'll be on here waxing lyrical about how fukcing great nightclubs are.

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laugh wrote: »

You are no fucking Joyce.

muppetkiller wrote: »

Christ that was painful to read.

xzanti wrote: »

Somebody had a thesaurus for breakfast :pac:

Calibos wrote: »

Another young man overcome by the exuberance of his own verbosity. :rolleyes:

HUNK wrote: »

A1. This is an English essay right? :pac:

Mossy Monk wrote: »

Isn't that the truth.

Dublin_Gunner wrote: »

Seriously OP - if you speak like that in real life, then its probably no wonder you have crap nights out.

Maybe you should stay in with your pipe & slippers in future.


Or was this an attempt to try and show of your somewhat strained literacy skills before handing in an essay?

Your post was trying just a little too hard to be clever, and ended up, well, crap.

.

Ah leave him off, I thought it was funny

Not a big clubber myself, more because I hate the music than anything else. But if a club/late bar has decent (or just not terrible) music I'll happily go there. Still though, prefer boozey nights in.