The painful things kids today will never understand

What a shock, it’s a week before my birthday and along comes another blog referencing how old I feel.

Tradition right?

Well as I turn twenty-bloody-seven next week I thought it appropriate to hark back to yesteryear and all the painful things that us twenty something’s used to have to suffer as kids, that the brats of today will never understand.

Let’s start.

The agony of having to make a £10 top up last you an entire month. And having to draft text messages that were short enough to go into one message so you didn’t get charged a whole 50p!

The worse agony of not managing your 0ne2one balance correctly and being lumbered with no credit for ten days before your Mum would top up again. Kids today will never understand the pain of not being able to reply to the text from a boy you proper fancy because you spent all your credit downloading the new Luck & Neat ringtone for shit brick Nokia.


bro, I can only take incoming calls this week.,

Scratching your favourite CD. Balling. Your. Eyes. Out. Spending a week rubbing it with your polo shirt to try and bring it back.

The heartache attached to dial up internet. Restricted use so your Mum could still use the phone. The slipper to the head when you went over and the phone bill came in. 20 minutes waiting for it to connect. Slow loading pornographic  imagery. Hell on earth.

dial up

Having to convey your emotion without the use of emojis. Where am I?!

Getting so lost because your Dad’s A-Z was from 1979 and you checked that before you left the house because nobody knew what GoogleMaps was.


so, I come out of here and turn right, yeah?

Having to have change to get on a bus.

Having to lie about your age when you didn’t have enough change so you could still try and blag child fare even though you’d been working 2 years. Shocker.

The blisters you’d get from rewinding your favourite VHS. Cos it got hella tangled in the machine when you were watching it for the 19th time that week.


erm, my finger is stuck in the white wheel of death.

The pain of having to actually be home in time for your favourite programme because your Mum was already recording something for your Nan on BBC2 and you had no other chance of seeing it.

Having to wait a whole other week for the next episode because damn box sets didn’t even exist.



Knowing if you missed a film at the cinema you’d have to wait the best part of a year for it be released. On video. That would cost about £20.

Walking somewhere without music. Cos your Walkman was hench and you couldn’t be bothered to carry round 8 CD’s at a time wherever you went.


miss, I didn’t bring any books to school cos I’ve got 8 albums in my bag

Having to have batteries for EVERYTHING you owned. Like now, these kids are going on holiday with one charger and all the entertainment they’d ever need. Us? 18 packs of AA’s just to keep our GameBoy going for the flight.

Having to actually stick to a plan made on a Friday for Saturday night because you had no way of contacting each other in between times. So actually having to be where you said you’d be, when you said you’d be there. Mind blowing.

Having to handwrite entire pieces of coursework. Remember that bump we all had on our fingers by the end of term from our biros. These kids ain’t got a bloody clue!


but, remember these bad boys!

& lastly

The terror of having to talk to someone you fancied on your home phone. In your living room. When your Mum was watching Corrie. Mortifying.



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