News Satire People Food Other


By Kieran Blake on February 10, 2017 in Satire



Jo Morton sat alone in his newly acquired ‘micro-unit’ in Vaucluse on New Year’s Eve while he live-streamed the party-to-end-all-parties to his friends via social media.

The young professional squeezed into his multi-million dollar property and broadcast the thrilling extravaganza to all of his contacts across his various social media platforms.

Morton recounted the scintillating experience, via FaceTime, as he completed the brief clean up the morning after.
“Basically, the unit is only big enough to hold two people at any time,” he stated, before delivering a not-so-stunning concession.

“Yes, I’m single. Maybe it’s because after I moved in I had to update my Tinder profile to say I can only date women who are size six or less, otherwise there’s just no space in the flat.”

On the night in question he flicked between his phone, laptop, tablet and desktop in order to connect with contacts, some of whom he even knows personally. He admitted that the first person he invited to the celebration was his bank manager.

“Let’s face it, I’ll be beholden to him for the rest of my life,” Mr. Morton said. “He was thrilled to send a work experience kid to attend the celebration via Skype.

“From about 8pm I tweeted my emotions, I reflected on my year through WhatsApp group chats, and I set out my resolutions on Messenger.

“I filmed the local 9pm fireworks and uploaded that to Youtube, just for something different. In between all of this I posted photos of food and drink on Instagram and got hundreds of likes.

“The only awkward moment was when I accidentally posted a smiley emoji after a friend told us all he’d been sacked just before Christmas.”

A tight budget forced Mr. Morton to be creative with catering.

“The Instagram photos of spirits were actually just water in bottles I raided from the recycling bins downstairs, the red wine was blackcurrant juice, so I feel surprisingly spritely this morning, and the food photos I put on Pinterest were actually of plastic display food that I borrowed from a mate who runs a sushi restaurant.”

Morton confessed that the huge barista machine dominating his kitchen was actually real, as were the tapas and hors d’ouvres he enjoyed while watching the midnight fireworks on television.

“That said, it was a nightmare trying to keep the smashed avocado out of shot because that would have really annoyed my parents, who lent me a small fortune to help buy the place.”

Amazingly, at about 2am Mr. Morton discovered that one of his Viber contacts actually lives in the flat next door.

“I thought about inviting her over, but that would just be weird.”