24-Year-Old Dabs In Mimosa – Serious Concerns Raised

EYEWITNESSES CLAIM a slightly older man was caught dabbing in Mimosa

A man has come forward to address the fact that someone he met at pre-drinks dabbed inside Mimosa at roughly 11:30pm on a Saturday.

We were lucky enough to meet the man who witnessed the night’s events, Dan recounts his experience:

“It was your standard night, pre-drinks was going well, I’d managed to steal someone’s lemonade and somehow managed to get through 1 minute 34 seconds of Coldplay before someone more musically-informed changed the music, so all was going swimmingly.”

“Until, suddenly, a dark poisonous mist seemed to fill the air.”

“In the corner of my eye, I witnessed the first dab of the night. At first, I thought he was mimicking Usain Bolt’s victory pose, but I soon realised the movement of his arms were swifter, more aggressive, and generally more annoying. I approached the man in question with the bathroom mirror in hand, and just held it in front of him, alongside his ID.”

“I thought he got the message… how wrong I was.”

As the night progressed, Dan kept a close eye on the neanderthal, trying to distract him with deep, meaningful conversations and snide remarks about Trump, until it was time to bowl into town.

“Our walk was okay, I ditched my plastic bottle that was 90% rum 10% coke somewhere near Chambers (as you do) and put on the mask of elegance and sophistication as I told my legs to fix-up and look sharp as I approached the gates of Mimosa.”

“It’s amazing what the fear of not getting into a club can do to you when you’re hammered. I’m the most elegant and polite fucker you’d ever know once I approach those gates, man, I’d put the Queen to shame.”

“After we’d snaked our way in, I turned, staring at the man-dabber like Scar in The Lion King, hoping I’d be able to decide the fate of Mufasa. But no, Mufasa had somehow dabbed his way in.”

“Just when I thought he couldn’t become more of a prick, I was once again proven wrong. After unsuccessfully playing the first part of Für Elise on the Mimosa piano, he saw that as a victory and dabbed again. This man was dabbing to fucking Beethoven, I wanted to rip out his fucking-“

After Dan and his crew had snaked their way into Mimosa, this is where the night really started to deteriorate:

“After I’d calmed down with some rum, I sat upstairs with my friends, as their desire to smoke yet again defied the ice-cold temperature. Soon after pretending to smoke, I decided it was time to migrate to the dancefloor, in search of meaning, and resentment.”

“Upon entering the dancefloor, it appeared that the dab man had somehow managed to clear a good part of the dancefloor for his ‘performance’, and as soon as a remix of Coldplay dropped, he started dabbing at roughly 500,000 miles per hour.”

“He looked as if he was trying to rid a swarm of wasps from feasting upon his eyes.”

“I don’t think anyone else had really noticed his dabbing before-hand, maybe they thought he was being ironic. However, to my delight, they soon realised he was merely a twat. So, during his dab fit, we diverted him into Koko and sort of let him dab his way into age-obscurity.”

Dan and his friends went onto have an incredibly average night. Though, we managed to track down the illusive dabber, Blake Dempsey, he had a few words to share:

“I was telling them for whole fucking night that I hadn’t taken my hayfever tablets, my eyes suddenly burn without notice, and upon entering the dancefloor, someone had thrown vodka at my eyes, so in a frantic attempt to salvage my eyesight, I batted away the vodka. I thought I’d found solace when my friends carried me out, hoping they’d take me to A&E.”

“Nope, I had to fight my way through Koko and somehow ended up being talented-spotted for next season’s Britain’s Got Talent.”

“Fucking brilliant.”

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