• Eric Rushton

Rich Tea, Poor Me

Updated: Jul 2, 2020

I’ve been quite stressed recently because I’ve been eating through a lot of mobile data. I’m only halfway through the month and I have less than 100mb of my allowance left. Knowing how reckless I’ve been – and knowing that I only have myself to blame – has made me feel really annoyed, so I’ve been sleeping in my jeans all week because it’s really uncomfortable and I want to punish myself.


Streaming YouTube videos of the Sugababes on the bus to uni has been doing the most damage. They have this song called “Ugly” which I like because it talks about how beauty is subjective and that personality is the most important thing. I’m not sure I agree though, because some things are objectively worse than others. For example, rich teas are objectively worse than any other type of biscuit: they’re disgusting – they only exist as a little reminder that life is inherently awful. They should only be consumed as part of a mild act of self-harm; they act as gateway to more severe forms of self-punishment such as watching all three hours of Sunrise with Eamonn Holmes.


What I’m trying to say is that I feel like a rich tea at times: I’d maybe be an attractive proposition if there were no chocolate digestives around, but even then it would only be to indulge another person’s own sense of self-hatred.


Being back at uni has reminded me that I need to figure out what I want to do with my life. People generally advise that you should do something related to what you’re good at, but the only thing I’m good at is having awkward and stilted conversations with people – and Krishnan Guru-Murphy has already cornered that market. It’s annoying as well because I’m surrounded by people who are driven and have basic social skills, whereas I’m someone who keeps his eyes closed on the bus because I don’t like making eye contact with people.


I’m too incompetent to do anything. I went to the shop the other day without my wallet and didn’t realise until I got to the checkout. I couldn’t pay and it was one of the worst things I’ve ever experienced; bombing at buying milk is far more embarrassing that bombing at stand up. Feeling like you don’t deserve to perform at a comedy club is one thing, but feeling like you don’t deserve to shop at Iceland is something much, much worse. Everyone around me just seemed to be staring in disgust, almost urging me to leave so someone else could take my place.


I’ve done a few gigs as well in the last few weeks, and I did a gig in Stafford that seemed to go pretty well. I was feeling good about it, although I was worried the happiness would evaporate, so I bought myself a McDonald’s to try and extend the party for a little bit longer. The guy hadn’t put the lid on my hot chocolate properly though, and I ended up spilling it all over my jeans. This ruined everything, I felt like I was having a good night, and it was annoying how something so promising could end up being so disappointing; it was like how Barack Obama ruined his promise of closing down Guantanamo Bay by proceeding to be really shit a closing down Guantanamo Bay.


I’ve also been having to socialise a bit in the last few weeks. I don’t really like socialising: I’m the type of person who brings a Battenberg cake to house party, so I’ve got something to eat with my cup of tea, while I’m sat in the corner watching question time on my phone. I went to a club on Friday, which was awful because I hate nightclubs. My favourite thing about nightclubs is leaving; I love the feeling of leaving a nightclub – it’s what keeps me coming back. Also, there’s a weird vibe in nightclubs because everyone’s judging each other and it makes me feel like a product on a shelf – not even a good one, a shit one, like a packet of rich teas.


Anyway, that’s about it.


Cya x


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