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Ah, entertainment. A night out. The sacred rite of not being in your house. You’d think going to a gig or comedy show would be a simple transaction: pay a few euros, get a seat, enjoy yourself.

But no. This is 2025, and that means pain.

Because these days, buying a ticket is like joining a secret society — except instead of a handshake, there’s a 7-minute queue, a 2FA code, and a booking fee that feels like a ransom.

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Let’s break it down:

• You want to see a comedian. The ticket says €34.
• You click “Buy Now”.
• Suddenly you’re paying €47.95 after the “convenience fee,” “processing fee,” “venue restoration levy,” “carbon-neutral wristband fee,” and a mysterious charge called “admin”, which might just be for someone’s second holiday.

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And don’t even think about being late to the ticket drop.

If you’re 30 seconds behind, you’re in the resale zone, where some chancer named “TicketsGalway123” is selling your €34 seat for €112 because it’s “front-row adjacent.” Meaning: somewhere near a bin.

And then there’s dynamic pricing — which is a polite way of saying, “We’re watching you click ‘refresh,’ and now we’re going to charge you more for being too eager.”

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Want VIP access?
That’ll be another €70 for a plastic lanyard and a view of the stage slightly closer to the speakers.

Want a drink at the venue?
Hope you enjoy €9.20 for a warm can of Dutch Gold that’s been to more gigs than you have.

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And yet… we still go.

Because even though we’re being financially mugged with a smile, we crave the escape. The dopamine. The Instagram story.

Which makes it the perfect metaphor for so many everyday expenses: we pay more than we should, because we didn’t compare.

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The Moral of the Story?

Next time you’re gasping at that final checkout total, remember this:

Overpaying isn’t a requirement. It’s a decision.

Just like with insurance, broadband, energy, or mortgages — the smart ones compare first.

And the rest of us are stuck paying €6.50 to print our own ticket.