Life, Living and Nike's 'Just Do It' Mini Backpacks

Hi haters, sorry about the hiatus … I've been high ages.

So, what's been happening? The answer; nothing.

It's abruptly come to my attention that while I happen to just about manage to live day to day without dying or getting 'sparked out' by unnamed battler rappers, I don't really have much of a life to speak of. And while that's always been remotely true to some degree, I at least had the determination to be opinionated and passionate about subjects, to the point I would attempt to air my frustrations while hunched over my PC puffing away on a constant supply of cigarettes.

Yet those days seem a distant memory now, as I feel I've given up on giving a fuck. Don't get me wrong, things do slightly annoy me. The most recent thing being the overwhelming popularity of Nike's “Just Do It” Mini Backpacks amongst teenage boys.

They [the teenage boys] look even more like fucking adolescent pricks than they already are with those ridiculous miniature backpacks on. Seriously what is the point of these bags? They're tiny, a two month premature baby has a bigger sack. I see them as an easy way to spot out which members of a teenage group are still virgins. I was going to take it upon myself to punch anyone under fifteen [years of age] in the face if I saw them wearing one [I have no shame in beating up minors, I pick my fights and I pick the ones I'll win], and as they lay on the floor crying [and probably bleeding – cos I'm hard as fuck, mate], I'd rip the bag off their back, unzip it and proceed to shit into it. After a few minutes of deliberation, I obviously opted against this plan for two reasons; one; these bags are so small, if I was to take a dump in one the shit would probably overflow [like a toilet backing up after a Christmas Dinner Shit], two; at the end of the day I don't actually hate them enough to go to the trouble of inflicting violence on a child no matter how idiotic the latest fad makes them look, plus I'm Ben Broughton, I should be saving my faeces for better things, like; freezing them to throw at stray cats or probably medical research, cos the other day I took one the size of my forearm, no word of a lie.

Anyway, less shit talk [get it? shit talk, I was talking about shit – whoo, still got it bitches!], what the fuck am I going to do about my life? I've got to start living it, I'm not going to be around much longer. I'm 24 now, I had a mid-life crisis at 13, so I reckon I have about two good years ahead of me.

Maybe I have some sort of post-Graduation depression, I'm no longer a student and I can't adapt to 'normal society' [I use that term loosely when describing life in Derby]. I'm a bit like a prisoner released back into the community only knowing prison life. It's not as if my life has changed that much; I still hang around the same small select group of friends, any extra money goes on intoxicants, I don't do University assignments … Hey! Look at that! It's exactly the same! [Pointing out my own shitty downfalls is the only way I can cope with coming at the bottom of my class].

Now to prove I'm lacking focus and drive; THE END.