Cider or Wee? You decide.

G’day maties,

I have risen from the ashes. And by ashes I mean bed, because that’s where I seem to spend the majority of my time.

I have been having serious holiday blues, spending every moment wishing I was back looking up at the pink castle with a cookie in each hand. (Yes, those cookies cost about €10 each, but it’s hard not to be carried away by the magic.

I could talk about Disneyland forever, and I will, because for one of my uni projects I am making a vlog. It will probably be recieved really badly, and I will make an idiot out of myself, but I know if I don’t do it for uni, I never will.

I’m also writing lots about Disney for the other Blog I’m part of. It’s actually got a lot of different content, from my strange shananigans to game reviews to Misgendering, it really is an odd ball of interesting articles. That’s mostly because it’s written by an odd ball of different people.

Check it out here:

So, apart from being sad that I’m not at Disney, I’ve been up to a few things.

Yesterday I went with Natalie to see Neil Hilborn (with special guests Rudy Fransisco and Sabrina Benaim.)

Who are they? You ask. Well, they are very famous poets who have come to the UK from the US and Canada. They came all the way to Manchester (why Manchester?) to perform their poems about depression, love and… Greggs.

They were amazing, which is no surprise. What was less amazing was that I spent 4.90 on a cider, and the plastic cup had a hole in it.

I had no idea at first, and as I was drinking I was just like: ‘Well, this is embarrassing. I’m missing my mouth more than usual.’

But then it got to half way through Sabrina’s perormance and I picked the cup up again. It had got worse. It was leaking out like a waterfall, to try and stop it I tried to press it against my leg. But instead of solving the problem, it made it worse. It soaked through my edgy ripped jeans and then they started to leak too. So in essence,

It looked, and sounded like I was wetting myself.

The cup was about half empty (or half full?) when I noticed a used, empty cup on the chair next to Natalie. I asked her to grab it, and after getting a strange look from the woman who had used it, she gave it to me and I placed it under the cup. That was the first problem solved.

The other problem was that I was now wet and sticky. During the interval I went to the toilets and was trying to dry my legs with the hand dryer, which raised other dirty looks.

Not only was I the girl who ‘pissed’ herself, but I was also the one that did strange yoga underneath a hand dryer, trying to dry my pants. It worked to an extent, but it didn’t get rid of the smell.

I decided to sit as still as possible, so that no more disasters would occur. Luck was on my side for once, and there were no more Lucie incidents, lucky for Nat.

I don’t want to bore you, so I’ll leave that there. The image of me sat in darkness, the sound of streaming liquid breifly interrupted by my swearing.

Have a good night!

(Just a note: I didn’t take any photo’s yesterday but the picture is the last photo me and Nat had together. It’s bad quality, but then again, so are we.)

I’m going to Disneyland as an adult and let me tell you, I will not ‘Let it Go.’

Before I start, I’d like to do a promo for the other blog I’m writing for, it’s a group project that I’m really excited about! Though this peice will be there, I promise there will be extra content that I won’t be put on here!

Give it a follow at:

Now, I have very exciting news…

The wise Peter Pan once said: ‘Keep adventuring and stay not a grown up’ and I honestly could not relate to anything more. Because, let’s face it, being an adult sucks.
Yes, I am legally old enough to drive. But do I? No, because I can’t afford to sell my soul away for the insurance.
Sure, I drink alcohol and do cool (sometimes sexy) adult stuff, but do I always regret it the morning after? Yes, yes I do.

As a semi-functioning human who tries her best, Disney has found a hole in my heart and filled it with something day-to-day life seriously lacks: magic.

I wasn’t enthusiastic about Disney as a kid, and when it got to the corny part of the movies where they’re all singing and dancing and I would cringe. Why are they singing? Make them stop. Why does that rat talk?

But now I know. Why shouldn’t the rat talk? And why can’t we all live happily-ever-after singing songs out the blue?

So my Mum bought a getaway to Disneyland for my 22nd birthday. That’s right folks, I’m going to where the literal magic happens and dragging my 13 year old sister with me. Nothing can stop the hype.

The thing I’ve found about planning the trip, is that there’s a lot of it for somewhere that’s meant to be fun. You need to know where you want to eat and what time you want to eat three months in advance.

To be honest, I eat when I want to eat, (which is probably far too much to be healthy.) I can’t even tell you what time my dinner is tonight. Or what time I’ll have lunch tomorrow.

I feel like a panda, sleeping my way through life and occasionally waking up to eat and, once in a blue moon, have sexy time.
Disneyland is trying to tame the wild panda in me, and so far, it’s bit of a rocky start. God knows how parents plan that far in advance, but I salute you.

I did book Inventions though, where you eat with, and meet up to 8 characters. Mickey is almost always there, since he is the most iconic mouse on the planet. I have such high hopes for meeting him, I tend to forget it’s a guy in a suit that was too short to get cast as a Prince.

When Mum first told me about the trip, I was excited. But then I realised the timing ties in with the Halloween festival, which means all the baddies are going to be out and about. Fuck Aurora, I’m meeting Maleficent and channelling my inner witch.

I have organised costumes, which is hard because you’re not allowed to dress as Disney characters, but you are allowed to dress like them (AKA: ’Disneybounding.’) So, I’ve bought Stitch and Angel onesies and I’m Disneybounding as Gaston, and Ruby is going as Jack the Skelington King.

Another thing I didn’t expect was the number of apps I’d have to download. The official Disneyland app, which tells me queue times and has a map of the park. The Photopass app, for all of the photo’s the professionals take. And then there’s Revolut, for emergency money in case I run out of cash. I feel like I’m definitely going to need a portable charger, or my phone is going to melt into my hands within an hour.

We are travelling by coach from Cumbria to Paris, overall it’s a gruelling 16 hour journey. At least there are plenty of alcoholic drinks being on board, it’ll be a miracle if I make it to Disneyland to be honest. We’re taking a blanket, snacks, books and the tablet so we won’t be bored or uncomfortable. I also have a onesie that my mum made for me, because she is a literal saint.

Of course, nothing is going to go to plan but I will update you all with everything I can next week.

Also, here’s a lovely quote to think about in the mean time:

‘I only hope that we never lose sight of one thing — that it was all started by a mouse.’ -Walt Disney

Puzzles, Garlic Bread and Surprise Parties

Guess what guys?

I am now officially 22, which means my bones are clicking and my hair is turning grey.

Okay, so I’m lying about that, but I am struggling to get out of bed. Though truthfully, I think it’s due to the bitter winter mornings that have made a sudden appearance, but it could also be my age. Which is why I have a jar of Nutella on my bedside table, ready to fuel me through the day.

I went back up north for my Birthday, it was nice to see my family and we all went to the pub. But my presents were questionable. My sister gave me those puzzles where you have to rearrange letters to make words. She told me however many I got right would be the amount of Euro’s she gave me for Disneyland. They were impossible. I spent all day, literally ALL DAY doing them and still couldn’t figure them out.

Then, about an hour later my mum gave me my second present which was a puzzle and a word search. At this point my brain was frazzled and even Google couldn’t help me. Turns out the wordsearch had nothing to do with anything and she ‘just wanted to keep me busy.’ Because, you know, I hadn’t already been busy all day with puzzles a 13 year old made.

I think I’m just bitter that my 13 year old sister outsmarted me. To be fair though, that doesn’t take much.

I still don’t know what my brother got me. When I got back from the pub I was pretty drunk and then he decided to give me his present. I unwrapped it, it was garlic bread.

But here’s the thing, about 3 years ago my family went for a meal at Nando’s. Jak had garlic bread with his meal.

The meal was great, very tasty, 10/10. But Jak went to the toilet and had a little bit of garlic bread left on his plate. And I mean a tiny bit, it was kind of like a crust.

Everyone had finished and the waitress came whilst he was in the toilet and took the plates away. Jak returned, disapointment in his eyes.

‘Where’s my garlic bread?’ He asked. And that’s when Mum said it. The thing that has haunted me for years:

‘Lucie ate it.’

I was confused. Betrayed. Horrified. But he believed her over my sincere disbelief. Everyone joined in. Ruby, Harley, Ian. They all plotted against me, and Jak is the type to hold grudges.

His birthday card to Ian said: ‘It must be hard living with a garlic bread theif.’

I have a notebook in my shower, on which he wrote ‘I steal garlic bread.’

He brings it up every. Single. Time we’re together.

So it seemed perfectly believable that he got me garlic bread for my birthday. So I put it in the freezer and forgot about it.

Until it was time for me to leave the next day. We popped into my mums work to say our goodbyes, and she asked me if I had the garlic bread for lunch. When I said no, she asked whether I was taking it home. I said ‘No. Because I trust you not to eat it and there’s no room in our freezer.’ To which she almost screamed: ‘You put it in the freezer?!’ Before dashing onto the phone to Ruby, telling her to get it out the freezer.

I still don’t know what is in that box, all I know is that it isn’t garlic bread and it isn’t freezable. I feel like this whole thing could have been avoided if they’d just given me my present like normal people.

When I got back to Crewe, celebrations with Ian began. We got a train to Alderley Edge to go to The Alchemist because I love cocktails. But when we got there, we found it had shut down in June. Thank god we had a meal booked at The Botanist after, so we just had a few drinks at their bar instead.

I don’t know how they make their Crispy Onion Petals but they are the literally food sent from above. We had a bowl of them each and some sausages, that was just for starter. I have a feeling I eat far too much, life would be so much cheaper if I hated food.

My birthday was on Wednesday, and Natalie’s birthday was on Friday. (Remember Natalie? My friend that can’t say no?) So Sadia, (Nat’s girlfriend) planned a surprise party for her. I thought it was a pretty good idea until I got there and remembered that Nat doesn’t like surprises, or attention. But she seemed to enjoy herself after she got over the initial hatred.

Sadia went all out, and got us a joint birthday cake. I mean, Natalie doesn’t like cake but since it was also for me I thought it was lovely and I will eat so much of it that I’ll hate cake until Christmas. Which isn’t that far away but would still be an accomplishment.

When they lit the candles all the fire alarms went off, so people went from singing to screaming. Turns out drunk people and fire alarms do not mix. Me and Nat then held hands and cut the cake like we were married, but watching the footage back, it wasn’t that graceful. It was mostly us trying to figure out how two people can hold one knife.

Today I had a spring autumn clean and bought some fake plants from Aldi, which is why the photo at the top seems random. I have this thing were if I get really stressed, I will clean frantically.

Nothing can stop me doing it, Ian has tried many times. I think it’s just my way of having a mental breakdown.

The plants were a bonus because I don’t trust myself with real plants, and they’re perfect for the calming atmosphere of the bathroom. Or at least, that’s I told myself when I was convincing myself to buy them. I almost didn’t because I thought: ‘No Lucie. You don’t need them.’

But I’m glad I did in the end.

Swimming, Assassinations and Ice Cream

So, I’m writing this in the back of Ian’s Dad’s car, which is good news as it means I haven’t pucked and been banned from it forever.

The south was great, and I discovered I’m a bad person because I desperately want Ian to inherite his grandparent’s house.

They have many rooms, a lovely garden (Though I couldn’t help but think ‘Oh god. The maintenence, it must take hours to cut. You can tell you’re an adult when thoughts like that cross your mind. But that’s a crises for another time.) And even their own swimming pool.

Ian has asked me politley not to kill them off, but I can’t call the assassins now, they won’t give me a refund.

I do think if I had my own pool I would be much healthier because I love swimming but hate public pools. It’s the only exercise I enjoy. But my generation is doomed to never buy houses, so I will be a poolless widow forever unless we inherite thiers. Ian won’t ask for it though. He still has a thing called pride, whereas I’m happy to grovel at their feet and tell them all the health benefits it will give me.

Whilst we swam, I asked Ian to take a photo of me on the whale. (Not real, you fools. Inflatable.) He had bought me a Little Mermaid bikini the day before and I have become obssessed with it. I asked him to take a nice, elegant photo of me. But instead he captured this monstrosity:

Thankfully, he had accidentally changed the video setting so it’s only a second long. I thank God for that every day.

Aside from swimming, we went into Brighton where I stuffed my face with sandwiches, ice cream and Shakeaway.
We walked through The Lanes and had a stroll along the beach.
There are only 2 big cities I would ever live in; Edinburgh or Brighton. Though the crowds at Brighton startled me a little bit.

Have you ever tried to eat a meatball sandwich gracefully, with the wind blowing your hair all over the place?

You can’t. It’s impossible.

So many people witnessed a stumpy ginger troll destroying a sandwich, leaving hot sauce on her forhead and chunks of meatball in her hair. Luckily Ian’s family had decided to stay home, and he already knows I’m a monster so it was fine.

Overall, it was a great getaway and even my attempted skin care got complimented.

What I mean by that, is that the day before I left, I mushed a banana up with oats and honey and smothered it on my face before placing cucumbers on my eyes. That was when Ian came home and found me laying on our bed with half of the breakfast aisle dripping from me.

I tried to explain that I’m too poor to buy facemasks but he didn’t understand.

The good news is my skin has been lovely and soft since so I totally reccommend it.

So that’s pretty much all I have to talk about this week. Now, please excuse me. I have assassins to tend to.

Is my hometown even real?

I grew up in a tiny village in The Lake District. For those who don’t know, The Lake District is a beautiful place where people pay ridiculous prices to go and stay in a cabin, or where the rich people go to retire. Either way, people don’t stay long.

Sometimes when I go home, I laugh at how much the place is like a fantasy novel, and I love it. It’s like it’s stuck in time, always a little bit behind the rest of the world. So, without further ado, here is the list I’ve made over the last few weeks:

Reasons why The Lake District is some sort of Fantasy Land

  • Carlisle is literally nick-named ‘City of the Lakes.’  Even though there are no lakes in the city? Misleading but magical.
  • In one of the villages I lived in, there is a beck leading to a river. Kids splash and play in the beck all summer, and the road even goes into the river. How many children can say their parents drove through a river on the way to school?
  • Down the road from where I live, there is an Ice Cream Farm. That’s right folks, we get ice cream straight from the cows udder. There’s a place where you can pet the calves and there’s even fake cows for you to sit on while you enjoy your ice cream. I always thank the cows for the deliciousness they’ve provided. (The real ones, not the fake ones. You numpties.)
  • There is a man in the town centre who goes by the name ‘Tatty Tim.’ I’m not even going to explain that one.
  • There is also a man so famous that our town wanted to name the Wetherspoon’s after him. I’m not entirely sure who he is or why he’s so legendary, but where you at Rowland?
  • Buses? Pfft, who needs them? There is one bus trip a week from my village, and if you get on it, you better know when it’s due to come back. Otherwise you’ll be camping there for the week. You may also have to pick a fight with the elderly if you want a seat, and NEVER sit in ‘Margaret’s’ seat, even if she’s not there. The others will batter you.
  • The biggest event of the year by far is Appleby Horse fair, where the population of 3,000 increases to 30,000 as travellers from across come together to trade horses. They literally come to celebrate horses, wash horses in the river, and leave again. I get it’s traditional, but outside of Cumbria it does seem a little strange.
  • There is a marmalade festival. I kid you not. There is an entire festival, where people stick pictures of oranges everywhere and sell marmalade? What even?

So that’s my list so far, no doubt it’ll keep getting bigger the more I travel home. But for now, Netflix is calling my name.

My irrational fear

So, today I am tired, uninspired and have blood splurging out of my lady-bits like Niagara Falls.

The reason I’m exhausted is because I had a nightmare last night. Whether bought on by the hopeless amount of caffeine that flows through my veins,  or the image of blood spraying the toilet bowl every time I wee, it was a pretty horrific dream.

What was this nightmare about? Was it gory? Were there ghosts? Were the people you love hurt? Did you die?

No, No, No and No. It was about a werewolf.

I have always had a fear of werewolves, despite the fact that they don’t exist. I think it comes from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Askaban. I was only young when it came out, and the scene where Lupins face distorts into a werewolf is terrifying in the darkness of the cinema.

Plus I come from a very rural place, and if I look into the horizon, all I can see is pitch black. Who knows what sort of beasts are lurking in that field, pretending that they don’t exist?

Okay, so having a fear of an imaginary creature can’t be that bad, right?

The thing is, it has actually impacted my life quite a bit.

I went travelling in my gap year, and I stayed in a barn in the fells of Wales. There weren’t any sheep, and that made me think that maybe a wolf had eaten them. There was no toilet where I was staying, so I had to wee outside. But I wouldn’t go out after it was dark in fear that I werewolf would be watching me from the bushes, waiting until I was vulnerable. So I held it in all night, which actually made me very ill in the end and my Mum had to send me a box of medicines and cuppa soup.

So my fear of Werewolves actually made me ill, and still stops me, a 21 year old, from sleeping…

I think I may need professional help.

VIP Interactive Introverts – A spoiler free review!

Okay, before I begin, it’s worth mentioning that recently I have discovered that I either feel nothing, or feel too much. There is no in between. It’s not even in a bad way, it’s just my own little unhealthy coping mechanism that I’m going to do nothing about, until I can’t ignore it anymore.

The reason I’m saying this is because yesterday was the first day I felt more than one emotion at once in a long time. Honestly, I’m still finding the whole thing very surreal.

I was excited to see Dan and Phil’s new show, Interactive Introverts. But I was not actively excited. It was more of a nostalgia thing.

I used to watch Danisnotonfire and AmazingPhil back in the day when I was full of teenage angst and felt like the only people who got me were these too emo-haired guys on the internet. And I got less angry and slowly forgot about their existence. (These things happen, okay?)

Then, one fateful day my little sister (She is 12 and wishes I would stop calling her that) came home from school and started talking about them.

I was taken aback, shook and took a brief trip down memory lane. For the next few months, she showed me all the videos I had missed out on. And told me that Danisnotonfire re-branded to Dan Howell. That was the moment I knew I had grown up.

She told me she was gutted because she missed their only tour, and I joined in with her disappointment, until November when they released information about their second tour: Interactive Introverts. I jotted down the time of release and got her VIP tickets for Christmas. (What else are student loans for?)

Yesterday arrived sooner than I thought it would. I don’t usually do my make-up, but I thought ‘Once in a lifetime opportunity here, stop being lazy and get out of bed.’

So I did my make-up and hair all nice, and even painted my nails. The rest of the day was a bit of a blur tbh. One second I was asking Ruby whether she was ready, the next we were sat outside The Lowry, my pale skin getting burnt by the unforgiving sun whist we ate Nutella Donuts. At that point, I was ready to go back to bed. I was daydreaming about the McDonald’s we were going to have for dinner and I could feel the nerves bubbling off of Ruby.

Something in my mind decided to make those nerves worse. I am generally an awkward person to be around, and not the sort of person you’d invite to a difficult Doctor’s appointment.

‘You know,’ I smiled at Ruby, ‘Dan and Phil are in that very building in front of us.’ Ruby just looked at me, her eyes spread wide. I should have got the hint to shut up, but I continued. ‘I think they’re in the roof.’

She face-palmed. Like, literally face-palmed. ‘No,’ She said. ‘They’ll be in their dressing room. I want to die right now.’

I frowned at her. ‘That would be the obvious place for them to be. But think about it, if I was nervous about performing a show, I would go pace in a place nobody would suspect. And that place is the roof.’

She just tutted and carried on looking worried. We were called into the theatre to queue up for the meet and greet.

A very nice man gave us our wristbands and explained the process. When he was gone, I began feeding off Ruby’s nerves again. ‘You know Doobs, I reckon they’re in that room there.’ I said, pointing upwards. I don’t know why I said it. I think it’s because I was starting to get nervous too.

I mean, I’m generally a nervous person and I was in a room full of teenage girls who were emitting nerves like they some sort of floating hormones. I only received a glare in response. Ruby gets talkative when she’s anxious, she started to talk about school and maths and friends. I nodded and commented occasionally, but I was starting to feel sick. I didn’t even know why. I’m not particularly a huge fan. Maybe it was just the way everyone else was feeling rubbing off on me, but it was the most horrible, yet thrilling thing I’ve ever experienced.

Next we were shown up some stairs, where security checked our bags. I only had a small handbag with me, and I opened it up for them to peer into. The lady asked me to open ‘that’ and by ‘that’ I assumed she meant my purse. I picked it up and began to open it before she tutted and said ‘No.No.No. The zip on the bag.’

I said, ‘Oh sorry.’ and hoped that brief bit of embarrassment would be the only shame I would put myself through.

But this lady just kept going on and on, saying over and over: ‘Why would I check that?’ and ‘That’s none of my business.’ It felt like the longest bag check in the history of security. Honestly, she was probably just being friendly and it only lasted 30 seconds but I already felt like I wanted to die.

We had to wait a little longer, and I saw a man rowing on Manchester Thames and started cheering him on. I have no idea why anxiety affects me so much, but I seem to go from a somewhat-mentally-stable-21-year-old to a completely-insane-10-year-old. I have no idea why I’m like this.

Finally, we were shown into the room where the mythical creatures of Youtube were. I was ready to have a full on break down, and to make things worse I didn’t even know why. I wasn’t even that hyped for this. I had never felt so many emotions at once and it’s like my brain malfunctioned. I don’t even remember what me and Ruby talked about.

We saw Phil first. Now, I have trouble deciding what pizza topping I want, so it’s not in my nature to have a favourite anything.

But… Phil is my favourite Youtuber. *Hides behind Eeyore blanket* I love Dan too but I don’t know, I feel like I want so much more AmazingPhil content. His live streams really make me smile, and I genuinely believe that he would get into The Good Place.

So, when we saw the back of his head stick out from behind the big temporary wall thing they had, I went from excited to just plain giddy. I don’t even know, but Ruby and I just shared this big goofy grin.

Then we saw Dan’s head, and I saw Ruby inwardly explode. Dan is her favourite, and for a moment I wanted to pause. It was probably one of the only times in my life where everybody around me was completely happy. Ruby is a big ball of puberty at the moment and I don’t recall the last time I saw her genuinely smile.

And then it was our turn to go behind the temporary wall of joy. I made Ruby go first, I wanted to see her reaction to meeting her heroes. As I went around the corner, I could feel my face flush bright red.


I don’t know. I hadn’t embarrassed myself, yet I found the fact that my face was going crimson embarrassing. WHY WAS I BLUSHING? Damn it, Lucie.

At least they were tall, so I could just talk to their chests which would theoretically stop me from jumping out the window because of awkward eye contact.

The hugs were great, but I think that’s purely because I’m not a hugger. They were pretty much hugs that said ‘Thank you for coming and being a fan, but to us, you personally mean nothing.’ Which I actually prefer to soppy, emotional hugs that I’m forced into by family members and friends.

I had prepared a surprise question for them to sign. It’s a good thing I had written it down too, because my mind had completely gone and at this point I was basically a ginger mop.


If you were an alien and came to spy on people, what would you disguise yourself as? 

I don’t know what I expected. Maybe just them to pause to think about their answers, or to look shocked at the unexpected question. Alas, the sadistic devil on my shoulder was disappointed and they handled the question well. They didn’t tell me their answers, they just wrote them down. Which is a shame, because I want to have a deep debate about it.

I mean, I think a dog would be an obvious candidate for alien’s to spy on us. But I think they’d be like ‘Right. Let’s disguise ourselves as a shiba.’ And then they’d see another breed and be like ‘Woah. No, I want to be a pug.’ And then they’d see another breed and be so overwhelmed by the cuteness that they’d never actually make a decision.

And a cactus would be good. Except the alien would end up dead as cacti are surprisingly easy to accidentally murder.

Dan asked us if we wanted a selfie, so we got one each. A nice one, and a silly one. The thing is, despite the strange bag search and my red face, I hadn’t done anything that made me want to die.

That part of me clicked when it came to selfie time. Ruby was next to Dan, and I was between her and Phil. Phil is tall, like a giant penguin, so he leaned forward to fit into the photo. For some reason, I leaned forward too, meaning I was head height with my 12 year old sister. This somehow felt wrong, and a little strange, but instead of standing straight again, I decided to step backwards.

Onto Phil’s foot,

in Doc Martens.

It was one of those scenarios where we both knew it happened, and for some reason, I was too awkward to apologise, and he was too polite to say anything.

So, I seemed rude and my face went red and suddenly jumping out of the window seemed like a good idea.

And basically that was the end of the meet and greet. Dan said ‘Thanks for coming.’ and we left, completely dazzled.


I had a beer and Ruby had a coke while we waited for the show to get started. We talked for ages about how nice and lovely they were, and honestly at this point I couldn’t get over the amount of feelings I’d experienced in one hour. My brain still hadn’t returned from planet Lucie, meaning I thought it was a good idea to spend £180 on merch.

I want to talk about the show itself, but I don’t want to ruin it for anyone, so I’ll keep that to myself. All I’ll say is that if you get the chance, it is defo worth going.

I didn’t know what to expect, how could Youtubers do a live performance? My mind is blown at the creativity and effort that has gone into the production. I’m not the type of person that thinks ‘Oh, those people are cool. I want to be friends with them.’ But the show made me actually want to socialise with them as people.

Just like in a coffee shop, discussing alien disguises or something. I don’t know.

Just go see it.