I recently went to a local quirky eater for lunch. You know it; white washed uneven walls adorned with mediocre badly framed photos of austere 1960s bathing shelters, chipped enamel milk jugs with indigenous fresh flowers? That’s the one. The food was great, up to its usual standard so not an issue there. Alas, I came out of the place with a form of tinnitus, the word ‘guys’ ringing in my ears. Ok guys, what can I get you?, Everything ok for you guys? Thanks guys, have a great day! Well hey, guys, that drives me spare. Enough I say. Not only that, and this really wrecked my buzz, the majority of the waiting staff were bearded, pierced and inked to the last. I have no problem with tats, rings or indeed beards. In fact I’m married to a beard who, much to my horror, ordered a flat white (slippery regressive slope there, just saying). When it opened first this eatery prided itself on being the ‘Other’ to the rest of Galway restaurants i.e. hip, trendy, vintagey cottagey, artisanal (oh I don’t know, I’m not an interior decorator) as opposed to the GBC with stainless steel milk jugs, matching chairs and beans on toast. Not a thing wrong with that either, we were reared on it. But seriously, someone needs to pen a sharply worded letter and inform the powers that be of the demise of The Hipster. Indeed The Guardian the stalwart liberal voice on all things broguey, beardy and tweedy lamented its passing back in June 2014. Soooo last year, guys. Lunch was superb, the boy Jamie might even have cheered on from his foody heights as I savoured my quinoa salad with all the pomegranate jewels, seeds and tasty greens. At least I didn’t get lunch served in a welly or on an ironing board as has been gastronomically à la mode recently. That’s great, guys, I’ll have that old style on a plate, thanks. When next I darken its door I will sport one said Hipster by the neck, drag it to the counter and inform management Pythonesque that ‘E’s not pinin’ for the fjords! E’s passed on! He has ceased to be! E’s expired…’is metabolic processes are now ‘istory! ‘E’s off the twig! ‘E’s kicked the bucket, ‘e’s shuffled off ‘is mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin’ choir invisible!
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