Consistency is rather boring. Consistency is an average cup of tea, every day of the week. Consistency gets stale, and isn’t rewarded if you’re not the best in what you do. Remember that kid in maths who consistently got 60’s? Let’s call him Arsenal.
Now Arsenal’s parents aren’t too upset, I mean Arsenal’s passing right? 60% isn’t too bad, not too far from the top and far enough from the bottom to not think about Maths Lit. But Arsenal won’t ever crack an A, or get a high enough grade to study engineering at that farmer university half-an-hour outside Cape Town. Things started off so well too; primary school was a breeze. He just bossed it at St. Andrews – walking across that pedestrian crossing like he owned the place, kid never waved to thank the stopped cars, man Arsenal wasn’t about that. But primary school ended, and Arsenal got pimples. I mean like proper pimples, pimples that have a damn pulse.
Socially things aren’t going too great either. I mean, sure, Arsenal tries, but he’s just a step behind. Wearing heelies in 2012, and rocking a gelled fringe, bellbottom jeans and a classy BadBoy T-shirt to his grade 11 dance. I mean, sometimes things go to plan, a good project here and there, and an oral that gets a couple laughs from the popular kids. But more often than not, he falls short. His parents have no idea what to do; even they can see he’s fallen a little short of expectations. His love life (what he calls his “Champions League”) has just deteriorated into embarrassment each and every time – flirting with this one, flirting with that one, a coke-float date with his parents here, and a romantic dinner with an unsuspecting hitchhiker at BP there, until finally scoring an own goal and setting up his best friend.
So now here sits Arsenal, underachieving and wearing his heelies without the wheels. Lost and unsure about what the future holds. Does he do what he’s done for the past 20 years? Well no, because that would be idiotic. Don’t you think Arsene?