Thou Shalt Not be a guiding influence

It’s that time of the evening again; as the clock slowly begins to tick towards the small hours and your blood alcohol levels quickly begin to dissolve any ability you may have once possessed to form a coherent sentence people begin to drift towards the sanctity of the kitchen, away from the thudding of the bass, to where the party games really begin.

Sadly the simpler days of “Pin the tail on the Donkey” and “Musical Statues” have long since been forgotten, along with complimentary party hats and mountains of pastry based goods, in favour of slightly more risqué versions of the classics we once knew to be “Musical Chairs” and “Pass the Parcel”

As well as the old favourites new additions such as “Morality and Self Respect” played in very much the same style as “Hide and Seek” are thrown in for good measure but no student house party is complete without the very game guaranteed to strike fear into pseudo intellects the room over;

Topical Russian Roulette.

Which weighty topic will leave you teetering on the brink of social suicide this evening?

Will it be;

Religion and the battle of the imaginary or not so imaginary deities?

Art and the associated movements which still continue to elude you three years of art history lectures later?

Or

Music and the “genre defying” bands you have never heard of and definitely couldn’t spell?

Odds are you’ll be subject to endure at least two of the three before the bottle of cider you’re cradling like the child society expects you to have produced by your age runs dry and it’s probably a smart idea, unless you plan on becoming a hermit through choice, to have uttered at least one cohesive sentence during that time.


But never fear for help is at hand; simply make your excuses, brave the Alton Towers esq bathroom queue and dig out this handy little guide; Your fairy godmother of pretentious banter if you will.

We’ll have you quoting Kerouac and discussing Duchamp with conviction before you turn into a proverbial pumpkin.


This week: RELIGION

Avoid at all costs,

No more good comes from drunkenly discussing the mystery that is the creation of the universe than discussing why Kerry Katona thought she had a career to attempt to revive in the first place.

A mind field if ever there was one.

Religion is thankfully a subject that the vast majority of party goers leave well alone but should the time come, and trust me alas come it shall, when you’ve become cornered between the proverbial rock and the hard place, or in your case the fridge and the halfwit who seems to be single handily attempting to revive the teenage Goth boom of the nineties, and who subsequently gathers most of their religious beliefs from the Living TV favourite “Charmed” then it’s probably best you know your Pagans from your Protestants in order to be rid quicker than you can reference Richard Dawkins.

Rather than spending precious Gillmore Girls rerun viewing time researching such nonsense may I suggest a hasty viewing of the 1996 film “The Craft” staring Queen of the nineties Goths Fairuza Balk. This invaluable 101 minutes of nineties cinema at its best should provide you with everything you ever need know to suitability engage your new pentagram toting chum just long enough for you to make a hasty dash for the door.

Failing that you could always distract them with a shiny semi precious stone or a coloured candle, if Charmed taught me anything it’s that they can’t get enough of that sort of shit.

Faux Goths aside all religions are essentially the same, encompassing blind faith in a being (or indeed beings) of higher spiritual standing than us mere morals and a sometimes dubious confidence in a collection of teachings that admittedly were probably produced with all the best intentions.

Despite this there are like anything various degrees of belief within each religion, a concept that seems most suitably simplified through the medium of hair metal.

Cast your minds back to the well published falling out of the notorious hair metallers Axl Rose and Slash.

As the line up of Guns and Roses changes yet again and Slash with his frankly astonishing head of hair exits stage left you now find yourself left with various chapters in the Church of Guns and Roses.

Firstly you have the original fans worshipping at the alter of the hay days whist polishing their aviator sunglasses and backcombing their hair like its 1987, often referred to as the “Fundamentalists” due to their unwavering faith in “Appetite for destruction” despite the fact that it is regarded by many non fans, more commonly know as atheists, as being actually a bit shit.

Then you’ve got the congregation of Slash air guitaring around the room like a Dad at a wedding and taking a much more level headed approach to proceedings, usually only visiting the place of worship on the major holy days to appease their conscious and avoid being smited down on their way home from the pub next week.

and lastly there are the disciples of Rose punching photographers in airports across the globe and inciting hatred from other bands and atheists alike with various half truths, more widely regarded as “the extremists” and generally missing the point entirely.



So there you have it, all three singing from fairly different hymn sheets but to essentially the same tune of “Welcome to the jungle”

Simple, no?

Either way I wouldn’t worry yourself about it, you’re going to wake tomorrow, red eyed and laced with regret from the evening before and no God could ever make the effect of three litres of own brand cider any less bearable, regardless of who you believe made the bird or the bees.