I have no clue about punk. So I decided to embrace that.
“I don’t understand!” Rimmer groused, pacing their small quarters.
“Of course ya don’t,” Lister replied with a resigned sigh.
“You don’t even know what I’m talking about!” Rimmer protested.
“Doesn’t matter. Ye don’t understand things generally. What is it this time?”
“Look at me!” Rimmer spread his arms. “Pink Mohawk. Faux piercings. Ripped leather clothing. This is peak punk! But they laughed and turned me away at the door.”
“Yeah.” Lister turned onto his stomach, gazing at his roommate. “Punk isn’t a look, Rimmer. It’s an attitude.”
Somehow, as a boxer-clad Lister cuddled his contraband cat, he was peak punk.
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Of course, Lister is punk
Danae
I'm just going to have to
Kahvi
I'm just going to have to repeat what I said: "I have no clue about punk," he says, the proceeds to perfectly summarize punk in 100 words. Perfection.