They were, like, snuggling and cooing and, like, looking at dogs on their phones?
They were, like, wearing black zip-up bootees?
They, were, like, picking their nail paint and comparing their fingerless gloves?
They said “per-fect” a lot. Actually, “pah-fect”.
“Pah-fect”.
“Pah-fect”.
“Pah-fect”.
Travelling east on the Overground on a Saturday afternoon. At Highbury and Islington, contented Arsenal fans got on – they’d just seen the destruction of Palace – joining the shoppers and others on their way home.
The girls – young women, actually, but engaged in a friendship performance based on enacting reversion to childhood – were picking out favourite puppies.
“Aaaaaw!”
“Aaaaaw!”
“Aaaaaw!”
“They look like teddy bears!”
“When his ears are up!”
“So cute!”
“He’s, like, checking himself out!”
Scrolling, excited, holding hands. What was their story? How did they meet? Where were they heading? What would they do with the rest of their day?
It was difficult to make them out. It seemed fair to assume, though, that they weren’t that silly always. From the look of them, the sound of them – an RP vocal fry – they had advantages in life. Their retro ecstasy of girlie puppy-doting seemed a manifestation of this, a self-confident self-indulgence in full public view.
The Arsenal fans were quiet, digesting their five-goal feast. The shoppers were quiet too. The girls gushed and giggling on.
“Pah-fect!”
“Pah-fect!”
“Aaaaw!”
John Vane is a pen name used by On London publisher and editor Dave Hill for sketches and fiction. Buy his London novel Frightgeist: A Tall Tale of Fearful Times. Follow him as John on X/Twitter.
No idea what vocal fry means but if it’s the type of voice that renders ‘friends’ as ‘frans’ then I know what you mean. But, like, using ‘like’ as punctuation is, like, so 80s valley girl. Haven’t we moved on?