This melancholic chap can't find comfort, even though he spends his leisure time navigating one of those hunky-dory plank-skates I recall providing personal transport for the hero in my beloved Back to the Future.
This teen malcontent seems rather beastly. I held my tongue for a spell, in fear of inadvertently getting his goat.
Even the adults, sporadically scattered across this tragedy-tainted utopia, seemed in need of nurturing.
And some of these tots speak like common slags! I realize now that it wasn't my place, but I ventured to box their ears of one strumpet-mouthed young woman, only to be ridiculed in slang lingo I couldn't comprehend.
Realizing that I'd revealed myself as a square old geezer, I tried to assimilate myself, using a hasty approximation of this unfamiliar ecosystem's vernacular. I felt jolly vital, using such superlative punctuation!
But when no one paid me notice, I sheepishly returned to my old skin and embraced my identity. I am Alistair "Pip" Milner, a stately, ruddy gent who enjoys teas from many lands and the occasional broad comedy. When I inquired about the farce "Dodgeball," I received several prompt responses, reaffirming my faith in the forum.
And with that, I vanished, quite as fast as I came. (As for "Dodgeball," it's the dog's bollocks!) I fancy that the next time I need an oracle to guide my viewing habits (I'm already fostering great expectations about Brideshead Revisited), I'll consult these computer talkers and humbly accept their decrees as law. Even if I can't get an answer regarding the movie, I'll learn some new "vocabular," as the kids are calling it. Cheerio!
This is not my jury summons!
Can you figure out which clickbait headlines are a gross parody of journalism itself, and which are fake?
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