Wellington Wankers and other cheap stereotypes

It must be time for some stereotype bashing. I haven't done it in a while so its only fair I belittle semi imaginary people who can be found on the streets of Wellington. 

Except for the emo kids who must be real because razor blade sales are at an all time high at the 24 hour Star Mart*.

The Wellington Wanker

A recent migrant to the city. Typically are a Knights fan from Auckland who recently moved here to support the Wellington Phoenix. Noticeable for having yellow fever. If they don't have the fever, the Wellington Wanker can be found at any poncey office, practicing law.

The Men In Black

Now that the man in black Johnny Cash is dead, the man in black title officially belongs the 30 something white gentlemen who wear tasteful yet soulless black suit as they work in some tall building somewhere drinking lattes and spending too much time on Facebook. This would be me but I can't stand coffee.

The Men Who Wear Blankets

Well it is coming up winter soon so that's alright I suppose.

The Emo Kids in Manners Mall

I call them emo because they wear eyeliner, dye their hair green and listen to the Clash.

Or rather they would listen to the Clash if they had got an education instead of having babies and feeding them chips from KFC.

After selling their Ritalin to grandma the kiddies finish watching Oprah and get on down to the Mall where they all hangout out, each noting how depressed the other is and seeking to out do them.

The Glassons Clone

Cloning is alive and well in Wellington.

 Glassons is churning them out blonde by brunette. Easily identified as they all where the same thing. Dresses with the cut just below the breast in fashion? Cloned.

Skirts rounded at the bottom so they look like they are wearing a wind socket?

Cloned. T Shirts supporting the latest cause du jour? Cloned. At this time I should point out there is nothing wrong with buying T Shirts with Optimus Prime on them from Jay Jays. Any more than 6 is a lil odd, but still acceptable.

The coffee Junkie

I'll have a trim fat soy latte with no marshmellows and some of your best corporate spit thanks.

These pretenders of coffee refinery have no soul. As much as I support multinationals, globalisation, SUV production, Big Macs and free trade, corporate coffee grinds my gears..

The Hurricane

Big, black and could knock out the shit out of you if he knew you silently were mocking him for wearing eyeliner. Dreams he could swap shades with the Emo kids at the mall but the coach banned him from hanging outside round Courtney Place as he got into too many fights.

The dicks that ride bikes and turn right into Victoria Street from Dixon Street

These inbred jeds are the worst.

Still high from their morning ciggie, these hippies ride their bikes to work try and make the above turn ... into a bus only lane and do not understand when they are nearly KOed by the bus turning rightfully into the lane. Once an aggrieved rider caught up to a bus and started smashing on the driver side line in an attack more pyscho than Jason Bate's mum to which the driver told him to fuck off back to the bike shed and read the rode code. Bless.

* I can't back it up but you know its true.

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