THE nonchalant, arrogant staff at a hipster bar hate themselves just as much as they hate you, they have admitted.
Employees at ‘Totes Jelly!’ in London’s Old Street confessed they treat their clientele like their presence is a massive inconvenience to hide the shame they are feeling inside.
Cocktail curator Nathan Muir said: “Anyone who wants to drink a ‘Fellini Martini’ from a jam-jar in a poorly lit former shoe shop deserves to be treated like dirt. That’s a given.
“But who’s the real asshole, the social media manager paying £14 for a drink that’s four quid at Wetherspoons, or the guy earning £6.70 an hour serving it?
“No, I won’t turn down the xylophone cover version of Hotline Bling. No, I don’t care if your girlfriend ripped her vintage Bronski Beat t-shirt on the rusty primary school chair.
“You knew you were trapped in an irritating nightmare when you walked through the reclaimed submarine hatch. And so did I.”
Logan added: “I hate this beard. And this retro sailor-themed tattoo. I wish I was an accountant.”
