Boozers Are Losers, Smokers Are Jokers, Drugs Are For Mugs

This tale takes place in a newsagent in a London borough somewhere. It could be literally any one of the London boroughs, coz they're all exactly the fucking same. If London thinks it's so great maybe it should create some differentiation between the different boroughs or something, like by making them all different colours. I'd like Harrow to be purple, personally. Just putting that one out there.
Anyways, the newsagent. A young man walks in who fancies himself something of a 'cool dude', as it were. He hasn't been to sleep since last night, and as such he thinks he's the fucking don. He hopes that people notice he hasn't been to sleep yet. He makes sure that last night's clothes look suitably bedraggled.
He strolls up to the counter to buy some cigarettes.
"10 pack of Benson and Hedges please mate," he says, making sure he sounds as if he hasn't been to sleep yet. This is achieved by dragging out his words in a tedious attempt at sounding spaced-out or some bollocks. He's basically copying the voice that Pete Doherty always does. The newsagent retrieves the packet and asks for the money. The 'proper rad cool dude' reaches into his pocket and toys with his change.
"Sorry if I take a while mate. I'm a bit spaced out," he says with an expectant grin on his face. He hopes desperately that the newsagent asks the reason for his spaciness. He doesn't.
"I said I'm a bit spaced out. From last night."
"Oh right." the newsagent says, and glances over to his television nonchalantly.
"Yeah. Haven't been to sleep basically. Even though I was wrecked. At a party," the guy continues. The newsagent shrugs.
"Okay I don't think you're getting me. I was up all night. Doing drugs and mad stuff like that. I got off with a few girls as well, and I don't remember their names. What do you think of that?" the guy says, getting a bit antsy now, which renders his forced 'spaced-out' demeanor quite redundant.
"I'm nonplussed to be honest. £3.50 please mate." the newsagent says. The totally cool dude loses his rag big time now.
"This is ridiculous, you square. I've been doing drugs and drinking and smoking all night, why aren't you outraged? Why isn't it challenging your moral outlook on life? Why aren't you appalled at the state of youth today?" he rants. The fucker doesn't even smoke, he only smokes when other people are about.
"Chill out mate," the newsagent suggests, holding out his hand for the change. This pretty much fucks the cool guy's head right up.
"What?....I am chilled out.....I'm a cool guy who does drugs and stuff........this isn't right. It wasn't supposed to be like this."
Absolute epiphany.
The newsagent shrugs again.
The cool guy stumbles out of the newsagent and his trousers fall down around his ankles. What a tosser.
The reason I told you this tale is because people should be aware that nobody gives the slightest fuck about what you do. Being aware of the prospect of drinking, smoking and doing drugs making you cool immediately cancels out any chance of you being considered cool for doing it. Coolness is ignorance of cool, and I know this because Elvis's ghost just told me, and he was well cool.
By the way the newsagent was actually an alien or something like that.