Our Crack Tongue & Groove
What fresh hell is this?
Show me someone who would rather be a child than an adult and I’ll show you someone who’s never felt the sheer life-giving force of being able to walk out of their local corner shop while proudly swinging a four-pack of Kestrel Super Premium Lager. Being a child is rubbish. You can’t go to bed when you want, you have a permanently snotty face, and you get soul-sapping presents like colouring in books. Because, and let’s not beat about the bush here, colouring in books were terrible even when you were six. Look! A parrot! Already drawn for you! Now fill in the feathers with these frankly inadequate felt-tips! Scribbling all over a pre-printed image is, well, childish. And now adults are turning to colouring in books in their deluded droves. They think that it’s going to help them with their “mindfulness”, which is a form of mediation that deserves a ‘What fresh hell is this?’ all of its very own. (As far as I can tell it involves breathing slowly and emptying your mind of all thought, like the contestants on The National Lottery: Who Dares Wins.) But why any adult in their right mind would ever want to take up colouring in is totally beyond me. COLOURING IN! Sometimes the simplest ideas are the worst. Whatever next? Adults regressing to babyish pursuits? (Note: DO NOT Google “Adult Babies”, not unless you are confident you can totally erase the history cache on your computer.)