“And our ankles will be vaporised first because they’re not covered by denim”

-my friends, on nuclear war.

Last night I invited a rag tag collection of people round for a dinner party of sorts – we made moussaka, discussed our lack of a defining generational crisis and subsequent rebellion against nothing-in-particular, drank too much wine and shouted at each other about sex, politics and the possibly forthcoming nuclear holocaust. Then I drunkenly made a batch of crepes and we revelled in our own pretension. It was lovely.

You know somebody else who likes to post about pretentious things their friends say? This girl.  She’s hilarious.

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