Why I Hate ... Starbucks

The other day I happened to do something which shames me to no end. I broke a rule I had set down for myself. Although as a general public we follow rules and laws placed down by other people, I tend to follow my own set of rules, these (rules of mine) range from many different things, but I’m getting off topic. The rule that I broke was; never go to Starbucks. Sadly, after all these years of avoiding those evil places I stepped foot in one, possibly risking my socialist status in society. I didn’t enter on my own accord; of course, I was with an individual that wanted to go. I, in no way, shape or form wanted to enter Starbucks, but we do strange things for the people we love.

My hatred of Starbucks stems from my hatred of coffee itself. I think it’s vile; it’s what I imagine Satan’s cum to be. It’s so easy to hate coffee, when it is usually grouped together with tea, a drink I love. I show further hate for Starbucks coffee, because of all the fancy-types of coffee you can purchase, all of which seem to me be written in an uncomprehendable language. It’s basically fancy names for fancy shit.

One thing about Starbucks, much like Subway, is one is not enough for a city. Let’s take Derby for example, last count; I counted three Starbucks, all in a radius of less than half a mile. What is the reason for so many? There isn’t one decent record shop in Derby but we have three Starbucks, there’s something wrong with the world we live in; where a disgusting drink is given priority over quality music, it’s almost as if Hitler won the war, in my opinion.

So as I sat in Starbucks, the stench of coffee beans filled my nostrils and I could feel the vomit slowly creeping up my throat. As the sick gargled in the back of my mouth, I contemplated spitting it out on the floor, but I’d feel too sorry for the minimum wage earning bastards that worked in Starbucks – who’d be left to clean it up. So I did what any self-respecting person would do; I swallowed it. Gross, I know but it tasted better than coffee. Luckily for me, the sink of arrogance from the customers sat in Starbucks quickly neutralised the smell coming from the coffee. This is another reason I hate Starbucks. For some reason going to Starbucks is seen as something good to pompous people. It’s filled with individuals that see themselves as better than the general public because they’re drinking at Starbucks. These are the kind of people that really believe what they’re discussing is important and that they’re really intellectuals, but the truth is I’ve heard more knowledgeable discussions on a preschool playground at lunchtime.

The major problem is Starbucks is Americanism at it’s finest. As soon as you enter a member of staff should give you a pistol and a pamphlet entitled; “How To Shoot Up Your High School”. There is nothing wrong with adopting a slight bit of American culture, but it seems that the worst parts of Americanism is pushed on our nation and we’re fooled into believing companies such as Starbucks are what we need. When they’re not. Why can’t we have a nice British place to drink a cup of tea? Oh we have, it’s called home! So stay at home people, Fuck Starbucks!

Who Wants VD?

Valentine’s Day is almost upon us! You have to love Valentine’s Day, it’s perfectly situated in the year, at a point were the general public has just paid off their overdrafts from the expensive Christmas time and then along comes Valentine's Day to get you right back into that overdraft. I’m starting to believe that greeting card shops really do dictate the holidays we have, there’s always some reason to give our loved ones pieces of card with pretty pictures on them.

I’m often told that Valentine’s Day is just for pussy-whipped guys to buy their women nice jewellery. But it’s much more than that. It is the one time of the year that desperate guys, such as myself, send cards and gifts to the girls we’re stalking – anonymously, of course. We’re desperate, and terrified of being rejected.

Why do these things have to be so complicated? Because we all know that things get complicated around VD (Valentine’s Day). As VD slowly approaches, many things can happen. Firstly we’ll take an example of a young man in a relationship. So, I’ve had this happen to me before; you’re in a relationship with some skank, who says she doesn’t want anything for VD. Usually saying something along the lines of; “You show me you love me everyday, we don’t need to confirm to these Clinton Cards based scams!” But when VD finally comes around, you’re in the shit. Because it was all a load bullshit! So you’re stood there with bags and bags filled with gifts she’s got you and she’s empty handed, calling you a heartless prick. Then you get into a massive fight, she storms off, goes down to the local, gets pissed and sleeps with your brother, who gets her pregnant, then they empty your bank account and move to America – or is that just me?

Next we’ll take the example of a single gentleman. So, you’ve been in love with this girl for months, you’re always accidentally bumping into her so you can smell her hair and feel her soft, hairless skin rub up against yours – it gives you goose bumps and a slight erection. You’ve created a shrine in her honour inside your wardrobe out of bits of rubbish she’s discarded; chewing gum, notes, shopping lists, hair, toe nails, old sanitary towels … all the usual stuff. You think to yourself; “I’m the only guy for her, nobody else would go to these lengths!” So it dawns on you; a VD card will win her over and you’ll finally be together! The problem is, if you’re some kind of perverse, twisted sicko, you really do believe that a £1.99 Hallmark card and a withered rose will make a girl love you. But sadly this is not the case, the girl in question only sees you as some kind of perverse, twisted sicko with a £1.99 Hallmark card and a withered rose! And once this comes to light, you snap … her neck. Accidentally of course, you never meant to. You then roll her up in a carpet, stuff her into the boot of her car and drive. You have no idea where you’re going or what you’re going to do! You end up in the Peak District, lost. No signs of civilisation for miles, then you realise this is your chance! You take the girl out of the boot, stick her in the front seat of the car, once you’ve had your wicked way with her of course, remove all her teeth (something else for the shrine), remove the licence plates from her car and set it alight, burning her corpse and hopefully any evidence that links you to anything that happened here. Then you spend the rest of your life jumping at every knock at the door! Is it the police? Have they finally figured it out? You’re so traumatised you can no longer hold down a proper relationship, that’s why you become a peeping tom or a stalker! You live your life everyday, just waiting for it to all end – or is that just me?

How to Get Drunk for Free

Yes people, I’m here with some vital information. We all like get George Best’d once a day, but it can be an expensive habit. So I took it on myself to compile a list of ways to get drunk for less.

1) Go to a gay bar. Don’t worry, you don’t have to flirt (although it may help), most of the time desperate homosexuals will approach you. They will buy you your drinks and you’ll get pissed. But don’t get too pissed, don’t make mistakes you may regret in the morning as you are woken by Jeff’s warm breath on the back of your neck.

2) Get a glass collector. Most pubs/bars/clubs have staff that collect glasses, they usually use a plastic glass carrier, that the empty pint pots fit nicely into. You need you firstly need to ‘acquire’ one of these. Once you have, go around any pub/bar/club collecting peoples drinks, any that are half or less full. Quickly walk off and drink that drink.

3) Talk offensively to women. We’ve all tried to put the moves on a girl only to end up with her throwing her drink in our faces. So, what you do is say some of the most offensive shit you can say to a bitch so she throws her drink in your face. As you sense the drink coming, you’re first instinct is to move, but don’t, just open your mouth as wide as you can. This will lead to most of her alcoholic drink landing nicely in your cake-hole, then you simply swallow it and move on to the next girl.

4) Drink n dash. Firstly this can only be done in a busy pub/bar/club. Secondly, you must be dressed ordinary and not be standing out too much. Thirdly, don’t do this at your local. What you do is; push your way to the front of the busy bar and place your order. Make sure you order a variety of drinks; pints, shots, bottled beer, liquor and so on. Yes, this seems expensive, but don’t worry you’re not paying. As the first batch of drinks are bought to you, wait for your opportune moment (when the barman/barwoman’s back is turned), then you make off with what drinks you want. I find that downing the shots at the bar then making your way to the exit with the bottled beer the best tactic. Usually you can drink a bottle of beer by the time you get to the door. By the time the bar staff notice you’re gone and they’ve raised the alarm, you’re on to the next place doing it again!

5) Vulture the itbox. Most pubs have electronic trivia games; my personal favourite is the itbox. What you want to do is linger around these later on in the night. They suck drunken people towards them. As a drunken person plays a game on the itbox, you sneak in to pretend to be interested; paying them a complement on how well they’re doing always goes down well. As they begin to get more engrossed by the flashing lights and as they try to determine which one of the Spice Girls was ginger one, you swoop in and take their drink and slowly make your get away. It could take up to 20 minutes before the person notices their drink has gone, by that time you’ve drank it and the best part is they never really paid much attention to you so they have no idea what you look like.

6) Bet someone at pool. It doesn’t matter if you’re any good or not, but the person does have to be quite drunk. You will need money for this. Bet someone £10 (or whatever you want) on a game of pool. Make sure both of you put the prize money on the pool table. Now, what you do is take a long time to take your shots, eventually your rival will need to piss (this is why you must play someone that is quite drunk – sober people don’t piss as much and are often quite good at pool). Once they leave to piss, take the prize money and get the fuck out of there. Move on to the next pub and buy some drinks with your winnings.

7) Utilise the smoking ban. At my local Wetherspoons at home, you are not allowed to take your drink outside with you when you go and smoke, this leads to many drinks being left on the table closet to the door. If you’re lucky enough to find a pub like this, your actions are quite simple; swoop in, steal the drink of your choice, drink it!

Smoking Banter

My breakfast for the last four years has always been the same thing; a cup of tea (with milk and two sugars) and a cigarette. Yes, a cigarette, I don’t eat it of course, that would be silly. I smoke it. Of course a cup of tea is good to open up your lungs in the morning, but who wants that? I close them right back up with a smoke.

Nowadays smokers are some of the most persecuted people in Britain. Yes, I really said that people! I’m talking about the smoking ban. We’ve been living with it for a while now but that still doesn’t mean I’ve accepted it. I thought this was a democracy I was living in. But clearly nobody asked me about how I felt on the issue. This unwanted ban has leaded me to not being able to enjoy a nice cold pint and a smooth smoke in my local pub for a long time. Instead I have to go outside and smoke in the cold. Not so long ago I was in a pub and I accidentally sparked up one of my Mayfair Superkings (the brand of kings… on a budget) and I was ejected from that establishment. It’s charming; I get thrown out for inadvertently lighting up a completely legal drug while my friends are in the toilet cubicles snorting lines of cocaine, which last time I checked was an illegal drug.

And why do we still have the health warnings on packets of cigarettes? We know they’re bad for us, let up people!

“Smoking seriously harms you and others around you”
So what…? Fuck the people that are around me. I’m antisocial; I prefer to be on my own. I don’t want people around me.

“Smokers die younger”
No shit! Smokers know that smoking kills us. Why do you think we do it? It’s slow suicide! I’m too pussy to go jump off a bridge or hang myself, I’ll take cancer thanks. Plus how long have people been working on a cure to cancer? I’m sure they discover it in the next few days, it’s been long enough. And what’s wrong with dieing young anyway? People that die young are always remembered more than people that died old.

“Smoke contains benzene, nitrosamines, formaldehyde and hydrogen cyanide”
That sure is an interesting fact there. I never knew that. And I still don’t know what the fuck any of those things are, or what they do to me. But I’m guessing it’s not something good.

“Smoking kills”
Plain and simple! Yes it does. But it makes me look cool, and I’ll trade looking cool for dieing.

“Fajciari zomieraju mladsi”
Foreign cigarettes! They feature those annoying warning labels but you have no fucking idea what they say, it sure does make smoking a more pleasurable experience.

At the end of the day I know the risks of smoking but I know the risks of unprotected sex with prostitutes and I’m still doing that. But I’m not scared of cancer. I’ve survived mad cow disease, SARS, bird flu and a load of other media scares, I’m not saying cancer is a media scare, I’m just saying I’m tough.

And now the government has added scary images to my packet of cigarettes. Do they really think that a tumour growing out of someone’s throat is going to stop me? I’m an average looking bloke; I want a tumour growing out of my throat! It’ll set me apart from the mediocre looking motherfuckers that plague England! Imagine a tumour like that, what a conversation starter; “Hi good looking, I couldn’t help but notice you were staring at my cancerous tumour from across the bar. Would you like to touch it?” Women like a man that stands out, so I heard. Wouldn’t these warnings work better if they were less gender specific? Right this instant I’m staring at my packet of fags and I see “Smoking when pregnant harms your baby” OK, this is not going to stop me, I’m on the pill.

But seriously, why are smokers looked down on like we’re some type of unintelligent form of society? Why don’t other forms of society get this constant hammering from health freaks? Why are there no warnings on cars? “Warning, you may crash and die.” Where are the warnings on alcohol? “Warning, drinking this may lead to you making a move on the wrong woman which in turn will lead to her massive boyfriend kicking seven bells of shit out of you.” And what about pussy? “Warning this vagina may contain syphilis and AIDs.” If you’re trying to ruin smoking for me, you may as well just ruin all the things I like with your pointless scare mongering, you cunts!

Was She Filipino? Am I a Paedo?

I know the title of this Blog is enough for it not to get read and perhaps even get my Blog deleted from your favourites list. But this is a true story and I can fully explain myself.

The story starts about a month ago. I had a dream about a beautiful girl, and I mean a really beautiful girl. So beautiful in fact that I thought it was only possible for her to exist in my dream. In no way was this dream a sexual one. It just featured a gorgeous girl. When I awoke all I could remember about this girl is that she was from the Philippines.

Fast forward three weeks and while at work I saw a girl fitting the description of the girl in my dream. She was stunning, so stunning in fact I almost got whiplash turning my head to double-check her. While staring at her I almost kneed a young toddler in the face, seeing as I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking.

This is where the problems arise because this girl looked quite young; I’m willing to bet she was between seventeen and fourteen. This clearly raises some questions about me. But before I get labelled and put on a ‘special’ list, let me just explain that I’m only saying this girl is outstanding, I’m not saying anything sexual about her and I haven’t had many sexual thoughts about her.

When it comes to young girls I don’t have the best reputation seeing as last year I was with a seventeen year old, but that is completely legal. I don’t see any problems with it. It’s easy to judge from the outside, but I’m sure any twenty-two year old would go out with a beautiful seventeen year old.

Of course, I’m no idiot. I know one day in the near future I will end up in a small room, with bars on the window courtesy of the Her Majesty. But I always thought it would be for possession with indent to supply or something cool like murdering Jeremy Clarkson, I never thought I’d be … what this Blog makes me out to be. If you get my drift?

I’m not one of those, let me just say.

Update

I have seen her again, at work. This time, I got extremely close to her, not on purpose, I’m not a stalker. She just happened to walk passed me. This time I got a better look at her. And I’d like to extract my first guess of her age. She’s definitely sixteen or over. But on closer inspection, I’m not sure if she really is the girl from my dream. This again makes me raise questions about myself, seeing as I found her more attractive when I thought she was younger.

This Blog is more than likely to get taken down extremely soon, or it may be used in some sort of court case against me in the future.