A girl at a house party who spent the entire night explaining to everyone she spoke to that “her friends think [she’s] mental” has recently been revealed as extremely fucking bland.
Revelers at the party, which was to celebrate “Big Stu” Beresford’s early release from a 6 month stretch for tax evasion, were both bored and confounded when the unnamed girl insisted on telling everyone her friend’s opinion of her.
“She just wouldn’t stop! I could hear her in the kitchen telling my mate Tom how mental she was while he attempted to mix half a litre of gin with some leftover milk in a pyrex jug, we’d run out of clean glasses and teacups, and I could hear her saying it again to Pete and Dave racking up in the shitter,” explained a clearly distraught Mr. Beresford.
“I literally have no idea who the fuck she is or how she got an invite. I can’t even remember her name, she had such a droning voice. All I recall is she said she was doing a creative fashion degree at Goldsmith’s college and she was wearing willfully clashing patterns on her leggings, knee high thermal socks and retro football jersey. She looked like someone had thrown a nail bomb in a Sue Ryder shop.”
“I was also a bit confused by the fact she kept mentioning her friends but seemed to be completely on her own and insisted on instagramming everyone she spoke to with hashtags like #Rave #Friends and #Mental.” Mr Beresford continued, a rising tide of anger seemingly swelling behind his eyes every time he recounted the evening.
“She was irritatingly posh and looked a bit like a horse” offered Sarah, another of Mr Beresford’s friends who was at the celebration. “We thought a big bump of ketamine might shut her up, or at least stem the rate of social media posts, but the minute we offered it to her she turned her nose up at us and snorted with a mule-like intonation saying ket was dirty shit.”
“It was bloody good stuff too!” assured Mr Beresford.
“She didn’t seem to see the irony at all when she then asked me for a line of coke. I obviously said no, because the last thing we needed was her talking for the next 6 hours solid, but she must of got something from someone because after that it was literally hell on earth.”
“She insisted on telling everyone how much she was into grime and started yelling ‘SHUTDOWN’ every time a new track came on the system, then she started lecturing one of the crew on why she only ever drank fair trade coffee and how every time we bought a Starbucks we may as well be tearing the calloused skin off a farmer’s hands ourselves.”
“We thought asking her about the cost of her Huraches and how much Nike sweatshop workers get paid might have knocked the wind out of her sails but it literally didn’t even make a dent. She’s still in the house now!” Said an inconsolable Mr Beresford.
“I’ve literally decided to skip my first parole hearing so I get sent back inside. Hopefully she’ll have left my house by the time I get out again.”
