Putting The 'K' Back Into 'Kwality'

I f*cking hate hippies. Goddam tree huggers. Being a smelly, crust ridden skanker and using saving the world as an excuse for doing feck all. They peculate 'cool' religions like Hinduism, everything has to be multicoloured and tacky, 'university' conversations are regurgitated over and over again - the governments corrupt, Coca-Cola (for some reason) is the scurge of the world and Corrie isn't as good as it used to be. Not since Percy Sugden left anyway.

So it was with a certain amount of hypocrisy that we turned up for a night in Nimbin. The 'town' is just a single street in size. Think oldy worldy America, except the cowboys are hippies and the whole community is based on smoking doobies. They had a hippy museum, all the shops sold gear, all the locals sold gear, the children sold gear, the police were too stoned to do anything about it and the local kebab shop had a multi million pound annual turnover. The scene was set for a barrel of laughs. And the munchies!

The signs were there from the moment we arrived. In our room there was a mad Columbian girl stoned off her babylons. As we put our bags down we said hello. Without looking around to see who had spoke, she glared wide eyed up toward the roof as if to say "God? Is that you?" In town, some old crusty had chalked 'free cricket lessons' on the pavement. A comment on Englands heavy defeat in the Ashes. We got talking to him and he was slagging absolutely everything he could about England. Obviously his 'Little Book of Facts About England' was taken from the library section marked 'Utter Bollocks' and we reckoned he could have only been as far as the street corner in at least the last 20 years.
See also: Waster
See also: Parasite
After a while he asked where we were from. In the most sarcastic, ironic tone he could muster, Tom said Spain. After another ten minutes of England bashing, he stopped and asked us "so, what's the weather like in Spain?" Jesus Christ. "Good," I thought, "at least it's not England." Get back in your hole knobhead.


Despite good being a bland descriptive word, we had a good time here. But I just can't handle hippies. There was a group of 50ish year old men sat stoned off their heads and on their 15th beer of the day. It was 2.30pm and we were leaving. "Have a good trip lads," one said, "and whilst you're out there, make the world a better place." What, by being on my 15th beer and stoned out of my head everyday by mid avo? "I will," I thought, "I bloody well will." Goddam tree hugging hippies.