Saturday, 21 November 2009

Mr Nobody.......

Do you know who I am Ladies and Gentlemen? I am the most unimportant man in the world, that’s who. Do you know why I am the least favoured man on the planet? …….well I will tell you.

I am Male, I am Caucasian, I have no children, I am not a homosexual, I have a full time job, I claim nothing from the state, I am not an ethnic minority, I am not disabled, I am not a criminal, I am not a drug addict,
(Sorry, I mean I am not addicted to any form of barbiturate, through no fault of my own. In fact it simply has to be someone else’s fault that I am hooked on a class A drug. Even though it was completely my decision to take the drug in the first place, I am blaming my parents for not cuddling me enough, my school for not recognising my ‘special needs’, the police for not being understanding enough, Jimmy Cartwright at school for calling me a name when I was five, that very much hurt my feelings, Grandad for taking me fishing, when I really didn’t want to go, and the whole world for generally being beastly. There, that’s much more politically correct isn’t it? We can’t go round upsetting the poor little drug addicts can we)
and last but no means least, I tend to play by the rules. That is why I am completely irrelevant.

I am often tempted to cut a leg off, Have a sex change, cover myself in gravy browning, adopt a child, join an Islamist sect, live in a caravan, quit my job and live on handouts, indulge in petty crime, and start lifting shirts, just to get some fucking attention!

You see, probably up until about fifty or so years ago, all of these people were persecuted, ridiculed and abused, and it was almost seen as the "norm" for it to be that way. Of course that is completely and utterly wrong, and thank goodness that, in general, this country has become a much more liberally minded and tolerant place. But you see where it all falls down (As usual) is that us bloody human beings just can’t leave things alone. We couldn’t just change things so that the persecution of these people became unlawful and morally irreprehensible, we had to keep going and keep going, until they were put on a pedestal. They were now the special ones, and everybody that tried their best to put them there, became lower class citizens! After all, "We are all equal, but some are more equal than others."

So the inevitable outcome of this, is that I am completely invisible! I am not "special" you see. I am not in a minority. I am Mr. Nobody.

There are millions of me about though, yes literally millions of me. Getting up at the crack of dawn, going to work, paying taxes, paying bills, going through the rigmarole and expense of acquiring all of the relevant legal documentation to enable me to drive a vehicle on the public highway. Claiming nothing, and not being eligible to claim anything from the state, being criminalized for petty trivial misdemeanors, (Feeding the ducks…….no really!) and generally slogging my guts out.
Oh what a fool am I. What I really should be doing, is…….

Changing my name to Mohamed/Polovski/O’reilly, becoming a woman and having three kids, not bothering with any of that silly vehicle documentation stuff, it doesn’t matter if I get caught, the fine for having no tax, insurance or MOT is less than it costs to obtain it all in the first place anyway, and I shouldn’t bother with a license either, if I haven’t got one, they can’t take it away can they, tee hee. I should be slipping over on a recently mopped floor. The benefits of this are amazing apparently, compo, and state benefits for the rest of my life, ‘cause I will have a pretend bad back. While I am at it, I should buy/steal some sort of mobile home, plonk it where I like, build what I like around it……. planning permission, rules, what’s that?....... Don’t you pick on me with your tyrannical rules and stuff, I will be an ethnic minority you know, that’s persecution that is. I should develop a drug habit, steal from Mr. Nobody to fund it, blame it on my childhood, my parents, my teachers……. the boogie! Whatever, get Mr. Nobody to pay for my "Rehabilitation" in the Maldives, Come back, develop a drug habit……. Meanwhile, allow my feral feckless brats to run amok terrorising the local community, blame it on the boogie! Get Mr. Nobody to pay for councilling and cuddling sessions for them, pick up a load of leaflets from Chief Constable Hopeless about parenting skills, (They are excellent for making roaches for spliffs) Get Mr. Nobody to buy me a nice new shiny 42" plasma (a bit like the one I stole off him a few weeks back) sit on my ever expanding arse, and play on-line fucking bingo all day!.......I can’t wait. (Deep breath)…….

The liberals have taken over, and completely fucked up the asylum Ladies and Gentlemen. We now live in a country where the Government, the police, teachers, and all the Mr. Nobody’s are scared shitless of upsetting anyone whose name isn’t Smith/Jones/Mule etc. We have made all of the above people so "Special" they have started to believe the hype. They must wake up in the morning, look in their state funded mirrors, and say to themselves, "Hello gorgeous, you really are special."

We don’t live in that equality driven society that we all dreamed of, we exist in a world where the "Special ones" are the ruling class. Why is there the NBPA? (National black police officers association). Why do we have the MOBO’s? (Music of black origin awards). I know I sound like the bastard love child of Richard Littlejohn of the Daily Mail, and BNP leader Nick Griffin, but there is a serious point here, if the equivalent "White" versions of these were set up, arrests would be being made as we speak.

It’s not just black and ethnic areas where blatant favoritism is shown, (I’m really going to get it in the neck now!) but women have much more "Equality" than me. Women’s rights this, and women’s rights that, Women against this, women against that. Feminism, womenism, vaginaism.

Lets just be done with shall we, and massacre all men. They can have a few kept in cages for reproductory requirements, although the levels of man hating and man bashing are so astronomical now, that all women will probably be lesbians in a couple of hundred years anyway, so the caged men will just be sperm donors. Will they kill all male infants at birth, just keeping the healthier specimens back as "Donors?" Dear God, sends a shiver down the spine. (Is it safe to stick my head above the parapet yet?.......)

Our new found "Equality" has even wriggled its way into sexuality. Now look, I absolutely, honestly, really couldn’t give a shit (Please forgive that very much unintended pun) where any man lodges his willy, but do gay men have to push it in my face (Pun very much intended, couldn’t resist it) Gay pride for example, it’s not that I have anything against Gay pride as an organization, but if I was to set up ‘Straight and proud’ and go on marches proclaiming "Its great to be straight!" I would be accused of being homophobic, and Chief Constable Hopeless would be round mine handing out leaflets on ‘Sexual diversity and you’ quicker than you could say "Are you free Mr. Humphries."

We have gone too far with it all, I don’t mind how far it goes really, but why can’t us Mr. Nobodys come along for the ride too? Why do we have to be left behind?

As I have been tapping this out, something has slowly been dawning on me. For centuries, "White" man has been stomping around the globe, pushing people about. Nicking land off them, tyrannizing, enslaving, and generally lording it up at other people’s expense. For as long as we can remember, men have looked down on "The little woman," seen anyone with a skin darker than their own as second class citizens. Persecuted Homosexuals, and turned disabled people into freak show exhibits.
Perhaps we are finally getting our come uppance. Perhaps we are finally getting what we deserve. Am I paying for the activities and attitudes of my fore fathers? Could be, Mother nature seems to have a way of redressing the balance one way or another.
But hey, Mother nature, can’t you slow down with the change a bit, maybe even swing it back in my favour a little…….no? Karma i suppose.

As an end to this rant…….er I mean lecture, I would just like to share with you an example of Karma that I witnessed the other day. It seems that it is not only Ethnic minorities, feckless chavs, women and homosexuals that see me as Mr. Nobody. Drivers of big cars seem to see me that way too. For years I have been slowly coming to the boil about drivers of such cars as BMW’s and such the like. Their arrogance, selfishness, their complete lack of willingness to concede that other road users have as much right to be on the roads as them. To the story…….

Part of my journey to work, involves traveling along a straight piece of road, that has another road joining it at a very acute angle. The road joining "mine", is a junction, and the users of it are expected to give way. Having used it myself, I will concede that it is bloody awkward to see if anything is coming. The wing mirror just doesn’t cut it, and a severe craning of the neck is required to spot somebody coming. Of course a good hefty glance over to the right when one is half way down the road can help immensely as one approaches the junction, but this is obviously far too taxing for most people.

One car out of a hundred can be forgiven for genuinely not seeing me coming, but the other ninety-nine are just arrogant bastards. These are people that also see me as Mr. Nobody. They are far more important than I am, Their time is far more precious. The place they have to be is far more crucial than mine, and their business far more pressing. I have honestly lost count of the number of times that I have had to slam the brakes on, as they gaily bowl out of the junction, with not a second thought for my existence.

Just the other morning I was traveling along said bit of road. Foot twitching, ready to jump to the brake pedal, I saw one of the most beautiful pieces of karma I will probably ever see. BMW boy was approaching the junction behind a council truck, and I have to give him is due, (to a small extent); I did see him glance over his shoulder. Never the less, even though he saw me coming (I know he did, we made eye contact) he decided to arrogantly press ahead anyway, after all bollocks to me, I am Mr. nobody. Unfortunately for him (Fortunately for the rest of mankind) the guys in the council truck weren’t arrogant bastards, and they had courteously and rightfully stopped. As I drove past and glanced left, I almost became erect as I witnessed a very crumpled bonnet, and a beautiful plume of steam rising gently to the heavens. The added bonus is, is that the hefty truck he ran into had not a scratch on it! I wish I had had the courage to stop, and dance around his steaming pile of dented arrogant metal, like a Morris man around a Maypole! It’s funny where little instances of Karma can arise…….isn’t it!

You know that there is an old Chinese proverb that says……."If a man sits on…….Sigh, hang on, sorry....... if a man/woman/hermaphrodite/individual caught in the thorny dilemma of undecided gender alignment, sits on a…….HANG ON HANG ON!!! Bollocks to it. Political correctness can really fuck up a proverb can’t it!

.......If a man sits on the river bank long enough, he will eventually see the bodies of his enemies float by.

Tuesday, 17 November 2009

Old father time.......

I’m sorry, I can’t seem to help myself, I’m not proud of it, and I probably should be ashamed, but there is no denying it…….Old people get on my fucking tits!
Sigh…….Don’t get me wrong, deep down I do have the utmost respect for them. The unbelievable hardships they endured during two world wars, are completely beyond my comprehension, and should never be forgotten. My life today compared to theirs, can only be described as a Utopian paradise, but, let’s be honest, they are bloody annoying aren’t they?

Why don’t they listen? And no it’s not just because they are possibly hard of hearing, it’s because they are so busy jabbering on, that they don’t bother to listen. You know how it is, we have all been there. You ask them a question, and before you have finished asking it, they are already saying "eh?" so you start asking it again, at which point they butt in and start answering you. Proving that they did hear you the first time, they have just got into the habit of thinking that they haven’t heard you.

At what point during our descent into old age, do we forget how to drive a car? If by some miracle, or a rapid advance in medical science I reach, let’s say eighty, will I have totally forgotten what the pedals and big wheelie thing In front of me are for? When we get older, does our perception of speed increase? It must do, I suppose this would explain why little old men in hats seem to be under the impression that going over thirty-five mph will cause them to black out or spontaneously combust.

The number of times I have been driving along, and to my astonishment, have seen what appears to be nothing more than a Trilby driving a 1979 Morris Mariner towards me! Is that really safe? Should that really be allowed? Surely if you are looking through the steering wheel and not over it, a disaster is only just around the corner. But they don’t crash do they, no everyone else is doing that around them. There they are dribbling along, while in their wake is an ever growing line of steaming, disfigured metal, as people have taken drastic action to avoid their decrepit incompetence.

What age will I be, when I decide that it’s ok to just stop without giving any kind of warning or notice? I was watching some old biddy the other day. Wandering along at seventeen mph, and without any concept at all that there might be other poor bastards on the public highway, just stopped! The poor sod behind her stood on the brake pedal with both feet, smoke billowing from his newly flat spotted tyres. Still she appeared to have no idea at all that she had nearly been rear ended.

After the bloke had sat there for a couple of minutes picking his teeth out of the leatherette finish of his dashboard, flashing his lights, bibbing the horn, waving, shouting, etc. he attempted to drive around her, at which point she decided, without making use of the mirrors, to slowly pull away. If I had had a fucking bazooka to hand, she would have been toast!

At what point do we decide that we are no longer going to try and use modern technology? My God I get fed up with old cronies whittling on about how they can’t use "Those new fangled" things like a computer or a mobile phone. At what point does our brain seem to stop being able to process the information needed to operate what is essentially simple pieces of equipment. To be honest, I have got to be careful here. I hope Miss Marple isn’t reading this, or she will be crossing her arms and raising her eyebrows. The number of times she has witnessed me dribbling and stumbling about whilst trying to use one of those "Do it yourself checkouts" at the Co-op.

I always feel sorry for the poor girl who has to come to the rescue of poor souls like me, when we have made the red light flash for the umpteenth time. It is quite embarrassing when I’m told that I have scanned the same tin of beans seventy-four times! Or I have collapsed in to a quivering wreck, because the machine has asked me to input the code for fresh produce or whatever.

Don’t remind me of that bloody thing in the bank either, you know, where you can deposit money into a machine instead of giving it to someone at the counter. That is like a white knuckle ride for me, who needs Alton towers!

You see, age is a very peculiar thing to me. I have great trouble getting my head around it. When I was a child of say eight, my grandfathers would have probably been in their fifties. Not old at all, especially by today’s standards, but at the age of eight, they were ancient. They looked old, they seemed old, to my little mind, they were old. Now, my Father is approaching sixty-five, and apart from being maybe a little rounder, and a little more grey, he doesn’t seem any older or different to me, than say twenty or thirty years ago. It seems that if you get older with someone, you don’t seem to notice their ageing, but if you have only known someone as being "old" you just seem to see them as……. well,"old." That probably doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, but I hope you catch my drift.

For example, I have only known Miss Marple’s Grandmothers as elderly ladies. I can in no way imagine them as young, virile, bouncy girls. With pert bosoms, lily white taught skin and a spring in their step. I know they were, but the brain seems to refuse to comprehend it.

It’s very much like I see myself I suppose. There is no way in the bloody world that I see myself as forty-two. It’s impossible, I can’t be. How did that happen? Ok, when I get out of bed these days the first few steps are like walking on a bed of nails because of the pins and needles, and my knee keeps giving way. There is the bad back, dodgy hearing, aching teeth, constantly painful elbow, balding head and creaking limbs, but mentally I don’t feel any different to when I was twenty-five. I think our brains stop getting older by the age of about twenty-five, but the bloody body keeps going. Having said that, there does seem to be some kind of cut off point. It’s like our brains stay twenty-five up until about the age of seventy-two, then the switch flicks over to "Old git mode." You suddenly can’t drive, use a mobile phone, hear people, stop talking about how things were better in "Your day" listen to what people are telling you, and on and on and on.

I’m not looking forward to the day that I think it is essential to wear a belt and braces. Do you get a letter from some governmental department, or the Queen, telling you that today is the day to start wearing your waistband under you armpits. Is smelling musty a gradual process or, does it happen over night? What age do you have to be, before you no longer worry about looking a complete twat on the dance floor?

Again I have to be careful here. Do you know, it’s been weeks since I wore a pair of jeans! Choosing instead to wear some nice comfy slacks! …….shit. (Think I will go out and buy myself a leather jacket and some ripped jeans…….maybe even a bandanna).

I have often seen an elderly couple, and wondered how they see each other. Do they both still see those young, frisky, energetic, slim, taught skinned kids that they used to be? Or do they see old people? I have been with the lovely Miss Marple for thirteen years now, but I don’t see her as being any older. I suppose I have the advantage that she was very young when we met (Wonder if I am off the register yet? Could do with my computer back as well) and so she hasn’t actually changed much at all. How will I see her when she is seventy? How she will see me doesn’t bare thinking about! She probably won’t be able to see much of me anyway, behind all those tubes and oxygen cylinders etc. Wonder if she will be able cope? Being married to Davros!

How does an old person see themselves? Does our elderly neighbour, who, without wishing to be unpleasant, has a face like a road map of inner London, see himself like he used to be, or as an old man?
I seem to have softened my stance somewhat. Perhaps it’s because I know that I am racing ever faster to the land of 'elderly'.

When I am prime minister, I will make it compulsory to have some kind of assessment at the age of seventy-two. On your seventy second birthday, a black van will arrive at your house in the early hours of the morning (Don’t worry, you will be up, old people always are!) and you will be whisked off to a secret government facility, where you will go through a vigorous assessment procedure. For a week you will be tested to see if you can drive, operate contemporary equipment, cope without multiple trouser fastenings, listen, Urinate and defecate un-aided. Not whitter on and on, eat quietly, drink without the aid of a straw and generally function without slowing people up, getting in the way, and being a bloody nuisance!
If they fail the test, It will be a bit like ‘Logan’s run’ They will be told they are off to some kind of sanctuary, in reality, through the door, twenty foot drop straight in to the furnace!


I feel a bit bad now. You see, i wrote this round about the time of Remembrance day. Seeing all those old soldiers etc has reminded me of the incredible sacrifices people of that generation made. Don't be too hard on me, it's all (mostly!) just a bit of fun.......They can be fucking irritating though can't they?

About Me

Smileville, Smileshire, United Kingdom
Don't let the bastards grind you down! peace and love x