The origin of species - chavs

I had to take a break from my blog on Monday and take a lie down and do some yoga to calm myself down. Well I would do yoga if I could actually stretch down to reach the tips of my toes but unfortunately my fatty midriff sits as a flabby barrier to my goal. I feared that if I blogged on Monday I would potentially write some angry gibberish because this one has made me livid, yes, livid.

So what could it be that has made me so angry, what could have possibly riled me up so badly that I considered yoga? Chavs, the fake Burberry gold chain hoop earring wearing chavs. For those who are lucky enough to not live in this dump we call England I owe you some background, the rise of the chavs has been meteoric. Overnight they seemed to spring up around the towns of the UK as if an alien being had dropped onto earth, fake Burberry their uniform as they plot the downfall of this country.

What is it in particular that makes me so angry? Well if you have to ask you have obviously had the pleasure of never meeting one. 

They seem to think that the world owes them a favour when they have done nothing in return. They have it too bloody easy in this country. They have grown up in a family where their parents haven't had to work, sponging off the state, and in turn they have complete disregard for society and believe they should be looked after by everyone else whilst offering nothing back. Instead they slouch outside the local fried chicken shop shouting obscenities at everyone who walks by.

If you fight back against one of these disrespectful pricks you may be lucky enough to see them walking. It's not a walk a normal person does, no, instead they somehow manage to keep the slouch and stumble towards you dragging one arm by their side like a monkey who just had a stroke. They may even try and communicate with you, it's not English they speak but their own garbled language of words they somehow seem to all understand but is gibberish to most.

So where do these vile creatures come from? Could they really come from out of space. Alas, sigh, it's not as glamorous than that. Is the chav a result of inbreeding? I would say almost categorically, yes. Its the only explanation for the origin of scum.  I bet Darwin never saw this coming.

Non-Celebrities

England, oh England what the hell are you doing?  What have you done to annoy me this time?  Well the list is long and plentiful but today I am going to discuss your obsession with the non celebrity before the throbbing vein on my forehead bursts with all this pent up rage.  My issue is the sheer number of people you idolise who seem to have no discernible talent.  Every country has celebrities sure but England seems to be obsessed with anyone who appears on TV or somehow gets into the public eye no matter how vile they are or how little talent they actually possess.

Crap magazines filled with gossip about the said non celebrities and their awful crappy lives that England can't seem to get enough of.  I don't care if your latest marriage is falling apart, keep it to yourself.  I don't care if you are getting surgery to make your already disgusting breasts even bigger.  I really don't want to read details about which guy you shagged  in order to get a new story for these degenerate publications.  I really couldn't give a crap and neither should anyone else.  These people make a living selling stories of their awful lives and the British public lap it up quicker than Jordan changes her husbands.  The worst part is these people are actually idolised, people want to be just like them.  Instead of aiming to do something positive and fulfilling with your life people now aim to become a celebrity.   

The rise of celebrity shows only seems to make my blood boil even further  Celebrity love island, throw a celebrity out of a plane, send a celebrity to a jungle and watch them suffer.  For the love of god will you please stop with the madness!  They invade every form of media possible, there is no escape. 

We now even have a celebrity classification system for the importance of the celebrity.  A "Z" list celebrity is someone who has appeared on a reality TV show but has done nothing of note since all the way up to an "A" list celeb who appear in Hollywood films.  

Lets take a look at a couple of case studies.  Jordan, the ultimate non celebrity.  She can't sing, she can't act, she can barely string a comprehensible sentence together yet she got her tits out and now she is a multi millionaire.  Kerry Katona, she was briefly in a crappy girl band and has since done nothing of note except being an atrocious mother and nearly killing herself by shoving bags full of coke up her fat nostrils.  Yet these people remain in the public eye and still make the front page of newspapers and magazines as they sell intimate details of their lives for the public to lap up.  Why do we care?  Why do we read about them?  Why the fuck do we idolise these people?

I can't see how this situation is going to get any better.  I am exhausted from crap celebrity overload.  I'm going to have to sit down, close the curtains and hide for a couple of days and hope Jordan's massive breasts or Kerry Katona's drug ravaged nose don't find me during my non celebrity detox.

Shit, the vein just burst.    

Friends from lower socioeconomic groups - are they worth the trouble?

Well I have decided to take a different approach to this post.  Instead of preaching my angry ways onto you I have decided to leave my point as an open question.  Is it worth having friends from a lower socioeconomic group or are they just too much trouble?

Now don't get me wrong, I am not saying that we shouldn't mix with lower classes in the workplace or in other aspects or our lives but should we choose to have them as friends?  I am by now means rich, far from it, but I don't expect the rich to mingle with me.

You may think this is just the blabbering of a mad man but consider this.  Recently I met up with a friend who I hadn't seen for many years.  I was hoping she had married into a different social class or undergone a transformation but it wasn't to be.  She was still the same chav I knew all those years ago.  We started off with a trip to the shopping centre where I was dragged around Primark and other god awful shops.  How you can have a good conscious manufacturing a t-shirt for a pound I have no idea?  But I digress; it then came down to where we should eat.  I offered a few suggestions, a nice Japanese I knew of around the corner (reasonably priced, non offensive menu for everyone) but she assured me she knew somewhere to eat; in her words "it's proper nice".

Please tell me when the hell did Nandos become 'proper nice'?  Fucking Nandos.  I had a dry piece of chicken stuffed into a stale pitta bread with some cold chips and spicy rice.  They didn't even come around to my table to take my order, I had to queue up to order with a bunch of other idiots.  I overheard the conversation of two gold hoop earring wearing track suit wearing girls as they checked their shopping receipts:



"Hang on I think I paid too much, whats ten percent off ten pounds?"
"I think its about seven quid"
"Yeah, they charged me too much, nine quid for it."






Well that was it, I had to leave my friend in the queue whilst I wept in the bathroom over the sheer idiocy of the 'restuarants' patrons.

So, what is the answer to my question?  Well fuck it I'm bored of giving a balanced argument (as I have quite clearly demonstrated above).  They are not worth it, stick with people who don't drag you around shops where the goods are produced by slave labour and eat with people who don't think its acceptable to go to a 'proper nice' restaurant and have to queue for your food.  Call me a snob, I don't care, I know what I like so don't drag me down. 

Vegetarians

Well this was bound to happen. I have been biting my lip for too long, I have kept my opinions to myself and now much like the vegetarians themselves I find myself backed up and constipated so it's time to release and raise my middle finger to all the hippy loving meat free eating vegetarians out there.

My hate for vegetarians is deep rooted and based on more than just their anti meat sentiments. It's the hypocrisy of being a vege that really gets on my wick. Now don't get me wrong I do have, believe it or not, some vegetarians friends (although they are in the firing line for my next friends clear out). This is actually where the problem started; we have to agree to meet at certain restaurants that don't have many stairs because their diet simply doesn't give them the energy to ascend stairs. When they do finally get to their seat and slump down in an exhausted heap, we order the food and almost instantly the eye brow is raised as soon as I mention a meat based dish. Of course as soon as there is a slight raise of an eyebrow or a quiet grunt, I immediately go on the offensive. Yes, if you can believe it, I have a short fuse.

Firstly, it is your choice if you don't want to eat delicious meat. It is not my
choice so keep your opinions to yourself.  Secondly, if you are that bloody concerned about animals why are you wearing leather shoes and have a designer leather handbag. Do you not realise you are wearing animal skin on your feet you stupid hypocritical arse?

Now I don't happen to believe in god, I have an education, but if you do happen to believe in god and you are a vege then answer me this: if god didn't want us to eat meat why would he have made it so damn tasty? Now please don't eat get me started on those bean munching vegans! Have you ever seen a healthy looking vegan, no, because they don't exist.

So to sum up, be a vegetarian by all means, that only leaves more meat for me, but for the love of god please don't preach to me about my love of meat. Next time you do you might just get a pork chop slapped across your face.

Valentines day

I have had the whole weekend to rage over this one, no scrap that, all of my adult life.  This could be the big one, the one that finally breaks the camel back and sends my rage spilling out into the streets of England as I uncontrollably rant, insulting the town folk as I rampage through the villages.

My least favourite day of the year just behind Easter.  No not 9/11, Valentines day.  The day where lovers are legally allowed to make everyone else int he world feel crap about being single and lonely.  But this isn't just one day, no, February is named lovers month.  The build up occurs around mid January as shops are flooded with cuddly heart toys, mountains of cheap cards with dumb arse poems and declarations of love.  The price of roses inexplicably rises to take advantage of those who believe that one day a year they have to woo their lover with shitty gifts  that no-one actually wants.  What is going to happen to the love teddy after February 14th?  It goes to the back of the cupboard along with the repressed feelings of disappointment that their partner no longer satisfies them in bed or actually gives a shit about them anymore.

Walking home from work on Valentines day is not recommended for the singles, do yourself a favour and get a cab that night.  Men and woman clutch desperately onto their shitty gifts showing the world that someone actually cares about them and they are not alone.  In the windows of restaurants are the lovers who like to show the world that despite the fact their sex life dried up a couple of years ago, they can still gaze into each others eyes one day a year and hide all those feelings of disappointment and dissatisfaction that they have been harbouring since last February the 14th.  The streets are filled with couples who cling desperately onto each others hands so that the world doesn't think they are alone on Valentines night.   

Who came up with this concept in the first place?  The greetings cards and gift companies who spotted a dip in their profits margins between Christmas and Easter.  This day isn't about love, its all about money and I say well done to those companies who charge you a disproportionate amount of money for the crappy gifts they import from a sweatshop in China.  Yep, that's real love right there, your £9.99 teddy they bought for 20p from a child who worked 20 hour days just to get your shitty gift ready in time.


So this Valentines day join me in my crusade.  Don't buy any gifts this year, don't give a shitty card that gets binned immediately, don't book at a restaurant who double their prices for one day a year.  Instead this year stick two fingers up to this pointless day.  You have 14 days left to comply or face the full force of my anger.

New year resolutions

Well I'm sure by the time you read this all the fatties won't have lost any weight and gone back to the pie eating ways but this point still needs to be made.  New year resolutions, what is the fucking point?  Every year a bunch of unhappy losers make promises to themselves that they have no chance of keeping:
"I will get thin" 
"I will go to the gym four times a week" 
"I will give up smoking."
Why not make a resolution to stop being a lying twat?

But how does this affect me I hear you ask?  Despite the fact I have to listen to the fat lady Maureen that sits next to me at work jabbering on about how she feels so much better after a week of healthy eating (despite the fact I saw her in Starbucks tucking into a muffin a couple of days ago and so fact there are no signs of weight loss or a decrease in the number of chins that prop up her fat face), they seem to encroach in every part of my life.

I'm not saying I am any Brad Pitt or whoever the  kids are into nowadays but I am smart enough to know that if you eat a balanced healthy diet, don't drink all the time and occasionally drag your tubby lard arse down to the gym, you can maintain a decent weight.  Sit at home watching Jeremy Kyle and eating cheeseburgers and you will soon look like one of his guests.  Instead of following these simple rules it would seem that as soon as the clock strikes twelve on news years, people decide they want to be someone different.  Why this specific change of time seems to have this affect on people I have no clue, perhaps the realisation that the last year of their life has been as dull as every other year of their miserable existence?  Well here is some news for you, nothing is going to change.  You will still be fat, you will still smoke, you will still be dull.

So the problems start when I go to get lunch.  The local McDonald's is suddenly clear of people allowing the excess of fat to seep out into surrounding air.  Instead I find the grease monkeys queued up in my local salad bar, staring at cucumber and tomatoes like they are foreign objects that used to only exist between a burger and a bun.  For most of January my local salad bar is inundated until the fatties get bored and slowly start to wobble back to their local grease hole to get their chubby fill.

Then there is  the small problem of my gym.  Suddenly there is an influx of people deciding that this year they will get fit and healthy.  Sure, fill up my gym for a week, take out a years membership, then f-off by the end of the month and be stuck with a horrendous monthly bill for something you have no intention of using again.  Going to the gym once a month does not give you a reason to eat anything that is put near your greedy lips.

So why not just do us all a favour and skip the resolutions.  If you can't stick to them for more than a couple of weeks don't bother at all, leave me in peace and stop ruining January for me every frigging year.  Know your role in life and fill up the burger joints fatties.  

Political correctness

Well this is odd, I feel clam today and I am nearly running out of things to write about that make me angry. Ha ha as if, that's about as close I get to a joke.   There are so many bloody things that are making me furious today but I barely know where to start?


So whats the most pressing matter on my mind today, oh of course, that sexist moron Andy Gray. Now I know a lot of you might not know what this is about, basically some retired footballer who commented on Sky Sports was sacked for a number of sexist remarks he made about a female linesman...line woman? Who cares, all that matters is that she is a woman doing a mans job (Andy Grays opinion). Did he deserve to be fired for making this remark?  Of course not, as much as I dislike the Scottish, this is political correctness gone mad yet again.

"Why can't woman drive?
Because there is no road between the kitchen and the bedroom."
Andy Gray doesn't make any friends as he speaks at a woman's rights conference.












Does it really matter what some washed up old codger actually thinks about woman linesmen, lines woman, ok I'm going with lines person. Of course it doesn't, just ignore this dinosaur and he might go away but fired from your job, really? How many people can honestly say they haven't made a remark at work that could have got them sacked. Who hasn't called that slag who works in HR the office bike? Who hasn't called their boss an arse licking back stabber?

Lets put an end to this argument, can you look at this photo and not have a good laugh?  Even you feminists might release a little bit of pee as you try your best not to giggle?  Right?  Ok maybe not but most balanced minded people can look at these situations and laugh them off.  Just lighten up people and get on with your boring lives and let the rest of us have a laugh. 

Well as much as I hate political correctness gone mad, one good thing to come out of this is that I don't have to see the overly opinionated Scottish twat on my television every time I want to watch football on my overly expensive Sky TV subscription.  Anyway he can't have been paid much right for what he did.  1.7 million a year you say?  Holy shit on a stick I think I just had a hernia.

Apple

Apple, could they possibly be the most annoying company in the whole world and the source of much of my anger?  Why yes they very well could be thank you for asking.  For starters why name your company after a perfectly delicious fruit?  When you all sat in a meeting discussing a name for a company did the conversation go a little something like this?

"OK guys, we need a name for our company.  Any suggestions?"
"Well I was thinking we could name it Banana?"
Nervous glances around the room as Steve displays the new logo (see left).
"Don't you think that might be a bit phallic Steve?"
"Plums?"
"OK anyone but Steve got any ideas?"
"Apple?"
"Are you just naming fruits Steve? Oh fuck it, lets go with Apple."


Boys and girls that is the story of how they came up with the name Apple (Wikipedia I can be your source on that).  Besides the name, I am an understanding man after all so I can just about forgive that faux-pas, what is it that really annoys me about the company.  Oh where to begin.

The adverts - we are so hip and trendy, we are a bunch of guys in their fifties making cool products because we are so down with the kids.  Play some underground music, show some models dancing with our products and we will sell millions.  Why not show your real customers using your product?  Some fat shite with the iPad resting on his belly whilst he tugs off to xTube.   Also, to really annoy people why not show an unrealistic advert of how easy our products are to use.  Yes, I regularly sit there flipping through the apps on my iPad with no loading time or slowdown.  Web pages load in an instance over my shitty 3G connection.

The products - make great products, sell them to me and we will both be happy.  Make my product outdated as soon as I have spent a months wages on it and the hate will boil to dangerous levels.  My shitty old iPhone makes me look particularly outdated as the kids shuffle past with their higher resolution screens mocking my small number of pixels.  My iPad looks to be redundant shortly as you add a camera that should have been fricking there in the first place!    

The software - is iTunes the biggest load of crap I have ever used?  What a stupid question, of course it is.  I can only sync my iPod through iTunes so I am forced to buy music from this crappy software.  What if I was to try and add an app or buy music another computer?  You can't you prick the software screams at me, how dare you demand convenience.  Don't even get me started on what happens if my computer breaks and the nightmare is it to get it working on a different PC.    

Flash - why can't I view bloody flash sites on my device?  Why?  I simply don't understand!  Is it actually because you are run by megalomaniacs who want to control the world?  Yes?  Great I thought so.

Well now that Steve Jobs is off with an angry case of syphilis (you heard it here first) maybe Apple will fuck off and leave my bank balance alone.  Oh your products shine but they are going to cause the last clinging hair on my bald head to fall off.

Facebook and all that bloody poking

Guess who has made me angry?  200 million of you that's who.  What could you all have possibly done to make me so angry on such a mass scale.  Why Facebook of course, the final nail in the coffin of social decorum.  After a relentless barrage of emails from people I barely knew and had no inclination to keep in touch with, I joined Facebook and was immediately inundated with friend requests, pokes and to my utmost disgust, people tagging me in photos.  Firstly, who ever thought poking me was a good idea obviously doesn't know me and as such shouldn't be allowed to communicate with me in any way.  Secondly, the friend requests.  If I haven't spoke to you in twenty years the chances are its because you were a prick and I had no intention of keeping in touch with you.  Thirdly, if one more person finds themselves in possession of me in a photo, do not think it is your right to upload it online and tag me.  I often pull an involuntary gurn whilst having my photo taken and I have no intention of broadcasting this to the world.

So there are the rules, don't interact with me, don't become my friend and don't for the love of god post photos of me online.  Now we have got that out of the way let me get down to the true reason I hate Facebook so much. 

It's the people who think it is perfectly good etiquette to post endless updates about their happy, perfect life's or post pictures of their wonderful holiday whilst I am stuck in this miserable piss hole having to go to work everyday.
"I got married to the most perfect man on this earth"
"I look into the eyes of my children and see a wonderful happy life ahead."
"Look at me and my Hollywood style good looks and minty fresh breath"
Oh fuck off you twat, no-one wants to hear how bloody amazing your life is.  Why doesn't anyone post the truth about their miserable existences.
"Got the test results today and it turns out I do have genital herpes."
"I'm sitting in all alone on a Saturday night and that bottle of vodka and sleeping pills are looking increasingly tempting."
"I can't get an erection." 


Now that makes for good reading, the truth would make you a whole lot interesting your boring bunch of bastards.  For now I think it is best I retire my Facebook account before I end up insulting everyone who I have know for the past god knows how many years.  How bloody old am I anyway?  Too bloody old and I thank you not to ask again.  

Self helps books

It wasn't going to be long before these hit my radar.  The incident in question occurred as I browsed my local book emporium.  I stumbled into an unknown section drawn in by the desperate moans of the needy and weak and watched on as they consumed the crap that was shovelled down their throats by con men and very smart self promoters.  

Now don't get me wrong, its not the industry I hate, any industry that makes millions of dollars by feeding a load of bullshit to these desperate saps has my blessing.  No, its the idiots that are stupid enough to spend their money on that crap; I say milk them for all they are worth.  The fatties whose latest fad diet promises to lose them all the extra blubber they are carrying, the single woman who desperately cling onto their last egg in hope that a man will take pity on them and fertilise it, those whose careers are going nowhere simply because they are just not smart enough to ever better themselves and are too thick to realise this.  

I picked up one of the books and flicked through the contents; The Secret.  For all those people who have an education you are unlikely to have read this pile of shite, the basic premise is imagine what you want an through the Law Of Attraction it will come to you.  The Universe will deliver if you imagine.  As an experiment I have sat here for two days imagining Angelina Jolie sucking me off and so far no sign of her. 
Is that the biggest load of crap you have ever heard; the answer if of course yes.  But this book has sold millions of copies to desperados who believe that if they sit there imagining, they will get whatever they want.  No dick shits, hard work is the key to getting what you want.  The actual secret, the real secret, is that Rhonda Byrne has made a hell of a lot of money off you saps and instead of spending all that time imagining you actually could have done something with your life. 

So this is for all those people who buy these books; to save you a lot of money, instead of buying that expensive book simply read the tips below:

• Losing weight - stop eating so much and do some exercise fatty, its quite a simple rule.  Eat cheeseburgers, get fat.

• Can't find love - appear desperate and lonely and no-one wants to know you, be interesting a people will take notice.  Of course scrap what I just said if you look like a monster, love in that case is an unattainable goal unless you can find someone who is equally as horrendous so as to take pity on each other.   

• Career going nowhere - it is likely that if you are buying one of these books you are a low level worker with no job prospects anyway.  Accept that you just aren't smart enough to better yourself and spend your money on something that will make you feel better like a case of beer.

• Sex guides - the oldest of all the self help books.  If you need one of these you are likely shit at sex and reading this is only going to make your partner chuckle as you try something a bit different a fail spectacularly.  Just accept  the fact you can't satisfy anyone.

Glad to get that one out there; their was an aggressive stress vein that popped up on my forehead that is only now starting to go down.

The elderly have made me really angry!

I can really say what I like about the elderly, its not as if they can work out how to read this and get offended.  Technology overtook them faster than their nappies fill after a bag of prunes.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not condemning all the elderly, after all I appreciate the work of Madonna.
   




"You are only as old as the man you feel" says the 52 year old paedophile as she saddles her 21 year old dimwit.  That might be true but unfortunately you can't change the fact that your face looks like a cats skull squeezed into a latex balloon.





So excluding Madonna what issues do I have with the elderly.  Did you really have to ask?  Surely it is obvious to everyone?  No?  Well consider this if you will.  They seem to have a ready made excuse for being set in their ways to ensure they don't have to follow the same rules as everyone else, the fact that they slow me down in the street and have a lingering smell of cat piss is neither here nor there.  No, its the fact they seem to have a subset of their own rules that gets on my wick.  They seem to think its fine to be racist, homophobic, ageist and whatever other kind of discrimination they can come up with.  No-one else is allowed to say what they like so why should they?  It used to be different in my day, they coo as they tuck into a cream tea and stuff a scone down their wrinkly throats.  It is still your day your stupid old twat, you are still alive so follow the rules like everyone else.  Times change and so should you.  My solution to this, set aside a small island, the Isle of White will do, and if they don't like following the rules ship them off to the island and let them moan there so we don't have to hear their racist or homophobic rants.  After all what use are they to us except for distributing Werthers Originals?


Case in point - these old bag of bones turned away a gay couple from staying in their b&b.  Get with the times your pair of wrinkly monkey faces.  Being set in your ways is not a decent excuse in a society that is modern Britain that sets out rules to ensure that old twats like you two can't discriminate at will.  Being old is not a good excuse, your extra years should give you a wiser outlook.  The fact is you run a business and as such you comply to the rules of the country.  Just because you own a fancy old persons tea pot does not give you the opportunity to make up your own rules.  Also, this one is making me really angry, why do all old people have ships even if they have never been on a boat?  Oh that could be a whole different post, don't get me started.


So old people your notice has been served.  If you want my taxes to prop up your pensions get with the times and stop thinking that because of your age you can say what you like or I will personally ship you all off to the Isle Of Wight where you can spend your days moaning about young people, complaining about those queers and blacks that you seem to fear so much whilst your cover yourself in cat urine.  Indecently how do they do it, do they spray the cat piss on?

Wikileaks - lets all support a rapist

It was only a matter of time before this annoyed me, well when I say a matter of time I mean the first time I read about this.  So just to recap, a mentally ill man who was allowed to become a solider (I need to tackle this separately or I will go off point) gets access to a number of classified documents and sends them to some Australian prick who thinks in the interest of freedom he needs to publish these documents online between sessions of raping Swedish woman.

"I don't consider it a no until they can say stop in at least ten different languages" - Julian Assange 2010 - Time Magazines 2010 Person of the Year (I narrowly missed out)





Of course most of the public sympathise with this man and we all hope he can freely carry on distributing classified documents and raping woman.  Think about it, these documents are classified for a reason.  The reason being we shouldn't be reading them.  I can already hear the hippies spitting out their raw juices in shock, "but all data should be available to everyone man."  Yes of course you greasy haired twat, lets publish all your private information online and see how you enjoy the experience.  That time your uncle fondled your tiny cock will make great reading and explain to your drugged out twat of a girlfriend why you find intimacy so daunting.   

Why were these documents classified?  Because we live in a world where somethings have to remain secret.  Yes, its true hippies, even I shouldn't know everything, you especially shouldn't know anything.  The reason the US government (and trust me I have more to say about them in another post) distributed these documents is because their departments were notoriously segregated and the free flow of data between them limiting.  To open up these channels could save your stupid hippy life.  Do you think free love can defend yourself and your family against a nice big missile or do you think the government might be helping you just a little bit?  Let them get the fuck on with it so you can carry on stuffing copious amounts of drugs mixed with detergent up your nose.

No this isn't a picture of a giant spliff.

Should the documents have been published.   No.  Of course they bloody shouldn't.  Secrets are secrets for a reason, because they are on a need to know basis and most pricks in this world don't need to know them because they don't have the intelligence to realise that the world isn't a lovely, friendly place.  It's a shit hole and lots of people want to kill you. 

Some things need exposing sure, his publication on Scientology manuals is a particular good read but from now on Julian, get in touch and I'll let you know what needs exposing and what you should just leave the fuck alone.  Lets start with Swedish woman....

Parents

Parents - is there a more annoying group of people on this planet, I think not.  "Oh look at my child, isn't the cutest thing you have ever seen?" they gush.  No, the child could be mistaken for a monkey.  It has your wonky nose and your husbands balding hairline.  It is going to end up as a combination of you two so lets face it, what chance does it realistically have? 

Parents, have a good think about this question.  Mothers, as you show off the latest little sprog that you pushed out of yourself, as you pretend to doat over your loved one, are you truly happy?  Fathers, are you truly satisfied with your newly vaginally bucketed wife, not just a little satisfied with life but truly happy?  Whilst your childless friends live in wonderful clean houses and are able to travel the world, you are living in that stink pit that always smells of children no matter how much you clean and instead of seeing the world you are forced to spend you last penny on a new pair of trainers for little Johnny who demanded the latest design so he doesn't get picked on by the other little brats at school.

Can any parent say they are truly happy bringing up a spoilt little sprog who has no concept of how much freaking money they cost. "I want a playstation, I want a skateboard, I want clothes, I need food", blah blah blah.  It's not even as if at the end of a hard day you can sit down and have an intelligent conversation with no, no, instead you have to clean up their shit or some other equally as disturbing job.

You see the most well kept beautiful people suddenly lose all sense of pride when they become a parent.  They stop washing, they don't bother with the makeup, their sex lives are non-existent all because the condom snapped and little Johnny appeared nine months later.  Having a child is no excuse to stop looking after yourself!  They go to bed early the little lightweights so have a shower then, pluck the eyelashes that are threatening to create a monobrow and for the love of god do something for yourself.  Your little lodgers will leave you behind as soon as they have independence and never truly appreciate what you have done for them.  And what are you left with; a shambles of a sexless marriage if you are lucky and a face full of stress wrinkles because the Tesco value moisturiser was the only product in your price range. 

Oh and one more thing, why should I have to spend my taxes on your freaking children?  You decide to pop one out, you pay for it.  Don't make me give you a weekly allowance to raise it, its yours, it belongs to you, do it yourself.  If you can't afford it, don't have one!  I can't afford a new flat screen TV so I don't have one.  Simple as that.  And trust me, that flat screen TV is going to give me far more joy than the little brat who will force you to watch cartoons when all you want to do is watch late night porn on that dodgy satellite channel.

Students - the mass unwashed

Lots of angry students protesting through the streets of London, throwing fire extinguishers off the top of buildings and smashing up ambulances.  So what is this terrible, horrible, disgusting act they are protesting against?  Yes people of the world, they are smashing things up against, wait for it, paying for their own education.  Shock horror, surely not?!  How dare we as a soceity condemn them to pay for their own education.  Now don't get me wrong, I do believe education should be free for all up to the age of eigtheen, I'm no ogre although perhaps stupid kids beyond hope (we have all met them) should be forced to leave a bit earlier to save us some more money, but after that kiddies you are on your own.

As with most countries in the world I no longer have to subsidise your miserable degree with my tax money.  No longer do I have support some young twat for three years as he pisses my money away whilst studying film studies, media studies or some other ridiculous degree at some substandard university coming out no wiser or smarter than when he started.  If the students can't prolong my miserable life or find a humane way to end it when my bowels finally give up the fight with gravity, I don't need to pay for them.   In fact the number of brain cells the government are saving them whilst they destroy them during one of their many drinking binges, they might still have a chance of contributing something to society.

Go to university by all means, come out with an excellent education, earn more money that me, you deserve it.  But don't complain because I won't subsidise three years of smoking pot and pouring an ungodly amount of cheap vodka into your poor liver.  Pay for it like everyone else.

"Well my mum and dad didn't have to pay" those miserable little shites complain as they rampage down oxford street.  Well my parents didn't have central heating, a black and white television and I had to share the same bath water as them as it was too expensive pouring a new one.  I sat in a pool of my mum and dads own filth.  Thats right you spolit little brats, times change, deal with it and pay for it.  

Now one good thing to come out of this whole sorry episode is that we got to see how Camilla would look having an orgasm and lets face it, that is something we have all wanted to see at some point in our lives.


 



"Oh Charlie, thats either wind or your finger just achieved the impossible."

Is it wrong if I superimpose a big cock in her mouth?  Probably, but she is asking for it.

This Angry Life

There are too many things in this life that make me angry it is difficult to pick just one to write about at any one time.  As my build up of anger is starting to push a hernia out I thought it best to try and release my anger in the form of these fancy new blog things.
Is there anything you need to know about me?  Not really, I live in England which doesn't help my general mood, just know that I get pissed off very, very easily.  Everything and everyone annoys me; ugly noisy children and the parents who try and pretend their lives are wonderful despite the fact they often have pleasant dreams about throttling their annoying offspring, young people who have the slouching postures of eighty year men because they think walking sideways with your back bent over is somehow cool, old people who walk too slow despite the fact that most of them are still capable of maintaining a decent speed. 
So where to start.  I can't say I usually take popular opinion so where better to start than picking apart the mass unwashed.  Students of course.