Turns Out It's People
If everyone in this cafe right now formed a band, we'd be called Loudmouth Donny and The Cosmic Douchebags. It's unfair, but accurate. Like this pen would be named The Clicky Bulbous Struggler, at the South-West Pen Afficionados' annual pen-naming convention and hog roast, to which I've never been invited. There's a stupefying mismatch between its shape and its purpose, like someone's stuck a nib to a balloon and said well boss we've made it user-friendly for people who don't want to use it too much, the fuck else you want? And using it solely to make complaints about it was what qualified me to become a member of The Douchebags, Donny-less and non-cosmic until four minutes ago, when a young spam-cannon wrapped in a woollen rainbow walked in, enunciating into his phone and dragging our futures behind him, and instantly we realised our purpose. We haven't, strictly-speaking, practised, or met, yet, but we've definitely been brought together.