Tuesday, 31 January 2012

I have nothing to say to you. But listen anyway.

So we have reached the edge of January. We are far enough through for me to have been paid, however we are not far enough to be out of the woods just yet. So to speak. I’m not in the woods. I would like to be in the woods. I like the woods. Perhaps in a past life I was a badger. Not that I go in for past lives or anything but who knows?
Nothing to see here

But I digress, I don’t know what I’m digressing from, I have no particular point. No information I wish to impart.

Doesn’t stop me wittering on though does it?

Just because I have nothing to say and no skills or talent (this is an obvious lie in order to make a secret point that I am making secretly) doesn’t stop me thrusting myself in your face.

Thrusting in a purely literary way of course.

Friday, 27 January 2012

This is a small example of a recent conversation I may or may not have had

“Have you ever noticed how only fat people are on diets?”

Now there are not a lot of options open to me at this point. I can’t walk away from a question as easily as I can with a statement so I am forced, like a hamster into a blender, to provide some sort of reply.

I am aware of a link between those who are over weight and those who wish to lose weight. They tend to be in the same group but with clear and notable exceptions.

Detox diets, body builder’s on diets and then those poor unfortunate souls who are on a ‘special’ diet for ‘special’ people; they are the ones wandering around the supermarket checking every single individual friggen tin of friggen soup for allergy advice and ending up with a basket containing an apple, an alpro ‘yogurt’ and their one hundred and fortieth packet of ‘Mrs Crimble’s Large Coconut Macaroons’ that they can haul back to their desk and gnaw on in misery while simmering hatred permeates their continuously starving and unsatisfied semi living corpse.

So after considerable consideration I have to confess that I do not concur with the claim that ‘only fat people’ are on diets.

them darn diets
I decide to provide my default reply, not wishing to enrage the stupid.

‘Ok…’ I say, with a slight upwards tilt indicating that I may be interested in what they are about to say. I realise quickly that this is a mistake.

“Well I think it is the diets that make them fat.”

Right. Wonderful. This is the little nugget of insight you wanted to share with me is it? This is what your little flaccid brain has been pondering over for the last year and a half is it? This little fallacy soaked ‘fact’.

God (and by God I mean shorthand for evolution + time x chance) has given you a brain and this, this! Is how you have decided to make use of it.

To ponder over random and trivial incidents and notions and then squish this poorly interpreted misinformation through your little ‘logic’ processors until you have tied all the scraps of drivel together into your own little fantastical delusion of truth.

Well let’s cancel all scientific research shall we?

Cos now we have you to think about things for us. We can all just sit back and eat cream puffs, mocking those crazy fools eating ‘healthy food’!

Thursday, 26 January 2012

Dream Crusher

That should be my job title.

Now anyone anywhere would assume that I would revel in destroying the dreams of others. That I would enjoy informing others of their shortcomings. Of watching their bright eyes fill with pain and their little voices say ‘oh’ in that little way that says ‘you’ve just destroyed my last hope of happiness’ .

And by and large I do.

But it is exhausting.

Tuesday, 24 January 2012

What are you doing?

I am seething with hatred.

After having spent the weekend in a place the internet forgot, I feel that I have had my tentacles clipped, resulting in a state that only an enraged one-legged squid can empathise with.

Added to this is the fact that I have a duty to be bound to a desk and made to work.

Some specimen somewhere has decided that all partitions should be removed so that everyone can see everyone else's faces and hear everyone else’s conversations.

this'd be worf watchin'
The thinking behind this current state of affairs is beyond me but it has resulted in me being dipped, like a lice ridden sheep, into the conversation of those around me.

I can now confidently say, with some confident confidence backed up with a hint of confidence, that football is the most puerile conversation topic in existence.

It is a game. A GAME. A play thingy. By definition a game is a distraction, a non event, something without consequence or impact to the wider world.

Is your life so utterly without meaning or significance that all you can think of to discuss is the result of other people’s hobbies?

I’m sorry I have to go now and watch live knitting online. Then shoot myself in the face.

Thursday, 19 January 2012


I’m not normally one to comment on current affairs. Well I might be. Ok I am. But that isn’t the  point here, so stop distracting me.

Right so that Ship, you must know the one. Even my cave dwelling associates are aware of the ship..

OK, so now we all know what we are referring to, let’s got on with the controversial opinion shall we?

That bloke what ran the ship, the captain. Now I mean he really has been shown to be a slimy git, git of gits, king of gits.

I'd just call in sick tbh
Not only is he a git, he is also an idiot.

However I will say this on his behalf: If my workplace was sinking, even if I was the one what had sunk it, I would trip and fall into a lifeboat as well.

He’s just an employee, just a manager with a silly title (mind you, I want people to call me captain) and everyone seems to think that he should act like chivalrous naval officer.

Pish Posh.

Wednesday, 18 January 2012

Don’t Look Now!

I will admit that I have been neglecting you my little creatures.

But like little cacti you can survive long periods of intellectual drought. Well done.

I’ve had good reason to be away from you, I have been busy like a little busy bee. I am still undecided as to how much I enjoy busyness. I despise it and yet cannot get by without it. Like mucus.

However I have not been stargazing. No matter how tempting they make it all sound with their enthusiasm and their regional accents and their iPad controlled telly box.

It is flippin’ freezin’ outside!

I don’t know what possesses them all to stand around in a field looking at the moon when there is a perfectly good interweb and a whole library full of books. All of which can be accessed at reasonable hours and without so much as a draft.
why would you bother?

Oh go on then, whine about how it’s ‘not the same’ to look at a photo when you could be ‘looking at the real thing’.

Well I hate to break it to you, but you ain’t looking at the real thing, you are looking at a reflected (or refracted, I know how these things work you know) image of a thing that is so far away that the image you are looking at now, is not what is happening now. So you may as well look at a photo. Or even better a CGI image. They are cool.

Yes I know, I know! I have moaned about ‘not having the real thing’ on here before. I am aware of this.
But looking through a telescope isn’t the real thing either. If you could get major tom to take me there on his rocket ship I might be interested. But I am not going to be tempted into a field at night by an over-enthusiastic  amateur with a tube.

Not again.

Thursday, 12 January 2012

Something wicked this way comes

That’s a quote don’t you know.

I wasn’t going to write a bloggy blog today. I know I haven’t written in a while, I know I know!

But your little face of faces is looking up at me with pie eyes and large, globular, mercury, spoons that dig out my pity and pour it onto the floor meaning I have to put up a ‘slippy floor’ sign.

So I’ve relented and I am here with my festering melancholy.

“Why the melancholy?” You ask with a tiny little squeaky voice of tinyness.

Well we are still in January for starters. I’m not one to wish my life away but living in January is a melancholy thing. I wouldn’t want to live here permanently. It reeks of failure.

always happy with a stick
Everyone, everywhere inspecting their lives and falling short of their own expectations. Their delusions of adequacy manifesting in unfulfilled goals and futile resolutions. The only peak of their lives, a pointless pseudo-religious capitalism fest, is behind them and they see their turgid future stretching before them in vast unending waste. I’m imagining something rather like the fens.

So it is in the middle of this foul swampy bog of stench that I am currently camped. You find me waiting for the reeking veil of fog to raise itself from the earth and free me from its clutches so once again I can trudge along the ever forward march without reflection.

Other than that I’m quite chirpy.

Friday, 6 January 2012

Who buys this crap?

Scam Scam Scam Scam Scam Scam Scam Scam Scam Scam Scam Scam Scam Scam
Review Review Review Review Review Review Review Review Review Review

“What the hell are you doing? Have you got your face stuck on the keyboard again?”

Er no, I’m becoming an internet millionaire. Obvs. God! Do you know nothing!?

Being something of an erratic sleeper and not knowing when to walk away, I often getting stuck in weird website cycles…

I get trapped in long drawn out American rants of craziness that tell you how great their thing is for pages and pages of nonsense before ‘reluctantly’ agreeing to part with it for only 


you try to leave their page and it refuses to let you, you try to shut down the page and it threatens you with face explosion, your only hope is to switch off the computer before it encases your brain and steals your identity but in its dying screams it offers  a special offer of just


before finally dying in fits and shakes and oozing out a little bit of sick.

Late at night when you’re sleep deprived this is a rather horrific experience.

Naturally I assumed that no one, no one anywhere ever would actually buy this stuff, surely they all run screaming as the computer tries to insert its USB into their glabella.  

But according to radio 4 (and who wouldn’t believe Radio 4?) one bloke spent $15,000 on the crap! The crap then told him to sell crap but he hasn’t sold any crap so he just keeps buying crap. He just keeps on, like he’s a brainless zombie repeating the phrase ‘must be scammed’ as he tap taps on his little compooter.

Well apparently all you have to do to get these foo’s to buy from you is to use the words ‘scam’ and ‘review’ on your website, they will come scurrying from their dark little recesses and buy what ever the hell you tell em to.

I’ve never been one for ethics, so here go’s:

I have an amazing secret… just for today I will sell you this secret for only 


Thursday, 5 January 2012

That didn't last long

Round, like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel.
Never ending or beginning,
On an ever spinning wheel
Like a snowball down a mountain
Or a carnival balloon
Like a carousel that's turning
Running rings around the moon
(Words and music by Alan Bergman and Michel Jean Legrand)

Well that musical interlude was lovely wasn’t it?

Well it was if like me you’ve had the dawning realisation that once again we are back here. Back in this place of hate and rage.

this is the spiral
I am tainted with the spittle of my own fury induced rants and I must face the prospect that the light will always lead us back into the darkness.

The universe is heading slowly into chaos but not in a straight line not in an eternal forward motion but in a descending spiral as we plummet into the inevitable discord forcing us to live and re-live the moments we dread most of all…

All this has happened before and it will all happen again.

But from now I shall not be the self consumer of my woes!

I’m gonna spread them all over your faces. My woes that is, just my woes.

Wednesday, 4 January 2012

I may have been hasty

I take it all back. I take back my venom and insert it in my teeth and I suck back up my bile through a little acid proof straw. Mmmmm

“Why?” You ask with exasperation at my constantly changing winds (I should see someone about that).

Well because I have seen it! That’s why!

Admittedly, the excitement that’s supposed to come wrapped in the plush velvet packaging of the New Year had passed me by.

I struggle to get excited by things I have seen so many times before, except that episode of Fawlty Towers, you know, the one with the Hamster.

is a hamster
Anyway, I was not excited by the New Year until I turned over my laminated calendar and saw the little blue squares, no they are not left over acid tabs but bank holidays!

An extra couple of days off shovelled together to celebrate some old woman who’s been around a bit but who cares!

Now comes the arduous task of deciding whether to take extra holiday around that time and make a grand holiday of it or whether to save up all my days and have many millions of super long weekends.

What are you going to do?

No, wait! Don’t answer that, it was the excitement talking, I don’t actually care.  

Tuesday, 3 January 2012

Right well we all made it.

Ooooohhh a new year, how exciting!

Numbers, that no one pays much attention to at any other time of year, have changed, leading to an unspoken group decision to have a party and shout a bit at midnight. Somehow we all feel that this will suddenly make our lives simultaneously improve.

Well good luck with that.

this bloke in this film
It’s  not like this whole 2012 thing is a ‘new’ year any way. 2012 has been talked about so often and in such great depth that I’m already bored with it. I feel like it’s half over; now 2013 that would be a ‘new’ year!

But 2012?

There’s been films, situation comedies, panels of committees of boards set up to discus it, and of course that flippin’ logo.

Even that bloke in that film was wearing a dirty old hoodie with 2012 on it. See, it was old news then.

Even the Mayans were so bored with the prospect of 2012 that they gave up writing calendars and vowed never to write another.

Well we’re all stuck with it now aren’t we? We can’t skip it the way Samoans skip Fridays.

So in the words of a joyously apathetic friend:

“Happy new year! Hope it’s alrite”