Surviving Without Hiddles

If you’re talking about the nude stress factor thrown upon our fragile fandom and the threathening test we’ve been put through during these hard times of abs, pecs and butts, then yes.

I’m banging the red alert button as we speak. The howling signal is drowning in all the moans and cries, but what I’m trying to say is………….

WOOOOOO BIRFDAY PARTEEH YEAAAAAHHHHHH

Wait what

It already over? Oops...

Fandom status? Casualty count? SWH surveying on the crash site. Reports on survivor wellbeing welcome. Graveyard of broken dreams on your left, pile of unopened presents on the right. Emergency tent right ahead. We've got chocolate. Welcome. Tread carefully and be safe.

Ah, yes. The hormonal integrity of every Hiddlestoner has been compromised, if not brutally violated. Immediate action recommended, preferably in the form of cold showers. Sitting with clothes on under running water of inhumanely chilly temperature and rocking self back and forth while crying loudly for mommy / favourite teddybear / any or every divine entity you can come up with (absolutely excluding Hiddles) is acceptable.

Once the ability to stand and mobilize limbs has returned, proceed to cover computer with a piece of clothing (NOT underwear, regardless of their own will to come off), or a towel, or bed covers, or any blanket, or possibly an anvil or a freight train, if available.

Dear Mr Hiddleston,

I assure you, sir, that I was about to write you a deep, thoughtful note for the year 2016, but as you showed up nude on dashboard, I don't have particularly much to say.

...except: Have you any idea what you've done, good sir?

Yours a bit suspiciously, SWH

Ummm, well. That’s not at all worrying. But yes, sleep sounds good. You should sleep. Not kill. Maybe even knit, but not kill.

Also, legal disclaimer:

I’m hereby renouncing any responsibility of any aggressive behaviour among my followers possibly caused by my misread survival tips or even the correctly read ones, and am appealing to my above recommendation not to kill anyone as my official and public position on violence, which should prove me not quilty in court for any provocation to civil disorder.

Without the charms and wits of Hiddles, getting to know people and befriending those complex creatures is not a walk in the park. (Though a walk in the park might help.) But don't you worry! Here is the basic step-by-step guide on friend-making:

Approach target. Make eye contact. Verbalize your thoughts. Censor any inappropriate content. (Examples on inappropriate content: screaming senselessly, giggling without explaining, describing your bodily state in detail, asking about other people's bodily state in detail.) Seek to connect by finding something you have in common with the target. Discreetly arrange further meetings to maintain contact. Express stuff. Share thingies. Listen and so forth. Proceed to establish and formalize the friendship by replacing half of verbal communication with disturbing sounds and faces and exclamations like "duuude" (regardless of target's gender).

In the unlikely case of any of this backfiring, pretend you were talking to your cat all along.

Hobbies. You know. That stuff people do repeatedly on their sparetime for enjoyment. Wha...? Well yes, staring at photos of Hiddles is a sort of a hobby, but possibly not the most productive one, so I suggest coming up with alternatives. No... Not that... That's... That's not... Oh whatever.

Try exercising. Or sports. Or cooking. Or collecting stamps. Or art. Or music. Or pets. Or yoga. Or knitting. Or charity work. Or reading. Or writing. If none of the forementioned works, you can always take up regular screaming and running around in aimless circles.