A bedroom, somewhere in Dublin. A man sits at a computer with a laptop to one side. He is in his mid twenties and has the look of someone feared by men and adored by women. Music is playing, for the sake of simplicity assume that it is something that makes the man seem cooler and edgier. Plumes of smoke waft in the air from the cigarette perched precariously on the mound of butts that fill it. A stack of empty fanta cans four high sits atop a router which sits atop a network hub. There are USB to PS2 adapters, Zippo lighters and CDs labled only as "stuff" all over tha place. The screen is filled with 3D models mid render.
A phone rings.
The man answers it, "Oh, hi Dad" he says, "You're in Dublin and you're calling over? Okay then, see you in a short while".
The man hangs up the phone.
There are the sounds of frantic activity from within the room.
"Hey" he calls to his flatmate, "my dad is calling over in a few minutes, can you see any signs of my having been smoking in here? Oh SHIT cigarette packets! FUCK! does this room smell of smoke?"
All pretences at being cool are abandoned.