The communal kitchen. A bastion of peace, away from the hurly-burly of intense computer games development.
We congregate there to forget our woes. To ignore our dodgy animations. To disregard our inability to write code that even compiles. And to draw cartoon sexual-organs on the newspaper.
The discussions are varied and broad, including (but not limited to) topical news, football, women, bodily-functions, celebrity gossip, politics, women again, movies, music, cake, TV, family, and women.
The roulette wheel of our borderline-ADD intellects lands on “last night’s TV”. The conversation goes something like this.
“See Louis Theroux last night?”
“Yep. He’s good, eh? He seems so deadpan and neutral, and yet gives these people just enough rope to hang themselves with.”
“And he manages to pick the strangest groups of people! He’s really good at letting people show what nutjobs they are, without them realising it.”
“Yeah. Like the Klu Klux Klan lot. Or the swingers. Or those Paedophiles. They didn’t seem to see how insane they were!”
“Apparently he’s coming here next week to film people who play Warhammer.”
“Oh, piss off.”