Ah, Conspiracy theorists, the meerkat of the human world. There's nothing like a guy with bad dress sense ('bad' here being by definition worse than my own, which is pretty damn low), dubious personal hygiene ('dubious' here being by definition worse than my own etc etc) and a tendency to believe crack-pot theories ('crack-pot' etc etc) to REALLY make me put my cynical hat on at a decidedly unjaunty angle. Fortunately, the English have a healthy scepticism about everything, and so the newspapers have long since given up on reporting the truth and now attempt to fabricate increasingly bizarre sex scandals, such as :
PRIME MINISTER IN BED WITH BANANA SKIN and the like.
However, there are certain conspiracies that are so obvious I'm suprised that those who aren't me haven't noticed them yet.
THE GREAT DJ CONSPIRACY - Any time that I go to a club or late night bar, all DJs are issued with a list of my favourite songs of the moment. They'll play my most liked songs only when I am headed for the toilet or already standing at the bar, and will save my absolute favourite for just as I'm picking up my coat from the cloakroom. Damn DJs.
THE DiCAPRIO CONSPIRACY - Similarly, any handsome, amicable charming men entering the club is given a list of any women that I might be likely to find attractive and also one or two others, just for the hell of it. If I am seen talking to one of these girls then a member of this crack force is required to swoop in and save her from me. Still, at least my female friends are anxious to know when I'm off for a night out.
THE 'ME' CONSPIRACY - That's right, my own body conspires against me. Why else would I oversleep on days when I'm supposed to go to work, but wake at the crack of dawn on mornings when I have the option of a lie-in? Why else would it be that I have no energy when it comes to work, but when waiting for a train I'm pumped full of kcals 'til I can't stand still? And when is it that I'm positively flowing with the energy required for a nice, long, but above all sweaty workout? Why, that's right; IMMEDIATELY AFTER A SHOWER. Sigh.
There are other conspiracies too, but I have no time to discuss them. The hot stuffy air of the computer room is affecting my hygiene, and I'm feeling more and more gulliable by the second. now I need to go change my clothes. Excuse me, theorist comin' through!
victoryusagi is a bored writier living in West Sussex. He loves the smell of Napalm in the morning.
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