We assumed our fear of being alone stemmed from sharing a womb. However, on closer inspection, we’ve realised everyone is riddled with the same need for interaction.
We don’t think we’ve ever sat calmly in our own thoughts since Grandma told us to, “just sit in peace on the couch for two blooming seconds will ye!”.
For example, a journey on public transport goes as follows. Sit down, observe neighbouring travellers, take out phone to message friends, send half an e-mail reply, check Facebook, play Flappy Bird, reply to Twitter, ask flatmate what time she will be home, Google when the next episode of Girls is on, vacate transport vehicle and call afore mentioned friends based on availability to chat.
Why can’t we just be in our own heads? Our hands are forever twitching to our social media. Perhaps loneliness isn’t the right word, maybe it’s more about our need to be constantly active and desperately trying to distract ourselves from processing our thoughts?
In order to save our generation we must find a cure. It must be something that a) distracts us b) keeps our hands active c) be torturous/challenging enough to consume our minds d) locks us in a room for over an hour. Ruling out both solitary confinement, a padded room and being on a flight, our very last solution was hot yoga. If you’re unfamiliar with hot yoga, imagine the humidity of the rainforest, the sweat of a coal miner and more moves than a contortionist for 90 minutes – that’s sure to keep us from our iPhones.
For all the proper health benefits of hot yoga, you’re probably best doing some research, but we can’t recommend it enough. Aside from the detoxifying, the spinal stretching, and the discipline, being ordered not to leave a roasting room so you can’t check your phone is curiously rewarding.
Don’t get us wrong, the first thing we do as soon as our instructor bows their head and says “namaste” is bolt for the door, rush to our locker imagining every sort of disaster possible described over a flurry of text messages on our phones. Our heads are screaming, “I HAVE BEEN UNCONTACTABLE FOR OVER AN HOUR!”, as we wonder whether the sky has fallen down whilst we were in downward dog.
Alas only one e-mail from Groupon and the world is still revolving on its axis. How queer!
We are becoming an army of needy communicators and only yoga warriors can stop us. Get your shorts, two litres of water, £1 for the lockers and join us in rationing our phones and fighting our lonesome minds to find companionship with ourselves.
Luke Kempner’s tour-de-force comedy heads this way, to the Brunton Theatre in Musselburgh, on Thursday, April 17 in an extended version featuring exclusive new material.
Having made his name with the YouTube hit Downstairs at Downton, and after appearances in musicals including Les Mis and Avenue Q, Kempner’s debut solo show won critical acclaim and sell-out audiences at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe. We’ve seen the show – there really is something for everyone and even if you’ve never seen Downton it is genuinely brilliant.
Here’s a rough plot. As celebrities start appearing at the abbey, cultures clash and eras hilariously collide in this brilliant parody, which takes in many other popular TV shows and familiar modern voices to help the cast of Downton save the estate from financial ruin – again!
Even Stephen Fry and Lady Cora agree: “A fine impressionist, giving a splendid display of Downtonry” says the latter. Book your tickets! Visit www.thebruntontheatre.co.uk or call 0131-665 2240.