The world is over populated. Just peer out your window and look at them all, there’s millions, bloody clogging up everything; the street, the pub, the shops, the prisons, the schools, the hospitals … basically everywhere you will find them; people! Bloody people, with their skin, beliefs, careers, families and lives! I've never been a fan of people. Yeah, there's a handful of them that I wouldn't slaughter if push came to shove, but for the most part you have to admit that they are quite shit. I've spent the majority of my existence adopting inanimate objects as my close friends and it's served me well. Inanimate objects don't complain about their jobs or their relationships and the majority of them serve an actual purpose unlike 75% of the human race.
But what can we do? It's not as if we can just start rounding up people and killing them, is it?
Morally, legally and humanitarianly [I made that word up – I think; it's not in my Dictionary and the OpenOffice doesn't recognise it] the answer is most definitely; NO! But if we push our morals, laws and humanitarian beliefs to the side the answer becomes; YES.
Firstly, let's simply picture the world; natural resources are running low, there's some kind of recession happening, our fellow man is starving to death and Lady Gaga is topping the charts. It's not a pretty picture to say the least, the world is looking like a Picasso painting, if instead of paintbrushes he used a double-barrel shotgun to blast squirrels onto the canvas. Is this the kind of world you want for your children? Or your children's children? Or your grandchildren? Or your children's children's children? Or your great-grandchildren? [The word children has lost all meaning to me now, I've used it so many times, it no longer looks like a real word] Well is that what you want? If the answer is 'Yes', you have failed at being human. Nobody in their right mind would want such horrors to continue on for the proceeding generations. It is time we stood up now and made a change for the better, by doing something selfless for those to come after us, so that we will go down in history as the people who saved the world by murdering half of the population of the world.
OK, I understand that this idea is not going to be popular straight away. Somewhere down the line I intend of incorporating an iPhone application into it so it will become more popular then celebrity endorsements in order to garter more support. But as it stands currently, this idea is extremely unpopular, as far the school kids of ideas go, this one is the guy in the classroom that stinks of hamster turds and chews table legs. I understand that.
I also know it's not a new idea and has been used before, often referred to as 'genocide' or 'ethnic cleansing'. But my idea does differ from these. I'm not going to lie, to begin with I was in deep thought about how the people that were going to make the ultimate sacrifice should be chosen, but in the end I realised that by simply picking out people I would be no better than Hitler, Pol Pot, Stalin or George Bush!
So after sleepless nights trying to figure out how this would all happen, I eventually came to the conclusion that we would decide who lived and died by the simple flip of a coin. Tails; your tail is safe, Heads; your head is coming off. Simple as that.
Of course this is not going to be forced on people, because if people are as good as people are always telling me, they'd have no problem killing themselves in an attempt to aid the future of mankind. Would they?
I've come to terms with my existence. I know fully well that I serve no real purpose, outside of creating this very idea, that will go towards saving the planet and it's inhabitants, but saving the world is a minor thing in my eyes, I not even add it to my C.V. I'll step up and flip the coin when my time is up and if it's Heads, I'll happily take one for the team, 'one' being death, the 'team' being humanity.
Imagine a world half as populated; everyone would be housed, fed and clothed. That 'Carbon Footprint' would drop drastically as there would be half as much traffic – no more traffic jams for those that choose to drive. Natural resources would be around for a longer time period. All this can be achieved by simply wiping out half of the population of the world. It seems like a small sacrifice for a huge gain. Like I've already said, it's not going to be popular and right now you're undoubtedly thinking I'm some kind of sick fuckwit for even coming up with the idea, but eventually it'll sink in and you'll be somewhere soon, more than likely Christmas shopping in some shopping centre and it will dawn on you, that if half the people there were wiped out the whole experience would be less stressful. Eventually you see it my way. Most people do in the end.
Saturday, 6 November 2010
5 Slightly Unique & Unoriginal Films
We all have aspirations, no matter how strange they may be. Mine, for example, is to write for a living. Preferably comedy. More preferably comedy for TV or film. Yet when I attempt to sit down and come up with an idea for a story nothing seems to happen, instead I sit here dwelling about it and happening to start ranting to myself in the form of writing. It's a weird circle to say the least. Because right now what I am doing is stupid. This could all be a massive waste of my time. If I deem this unworthy of being posted online, I'm the only person to have read it. Yet, if I post it online it still may not be read by anyone, other than myself. The way this is going at the minute – I'll be the only one to read it as I'm 148 words in and not one part of this has been funny. [Here I was going to simply write; “Fanny Flaps” in an attempt to make a reader laugh at random funny sounding words, I didn't, instead I've just told you that that was what I was going to do, which in turn is an attempt at making you laugh]
Why won't you laugh?
The problem is, like most people I want to be original, unique, I want people to think I'm some sort of trailblazer. Yet, I'm not. So I'm starting to think what's the point in trying to be something I'm not. Maybe I should just copy other ideas. So here's a list of five possible films;
Project #1: Romantic Comedy (Codename: Grab 'n' Snatch)
A simple formula, if you've seen one you've seen them all. Boy meets girl, boy gets girl, a mishap takes place, they break up, the mishap gets solved, they get back together, happy ending. All I have to do here is follow this path, sprinkle in some jokes and I have a Script. Although I shouldn't repress my need to be slightly original; I need a different setting so my film won't be pointed at and labelled a simple rip-off of another film. So here we go;
Brian and Stacy get set up by some pushing mutual friends. They hit it off. Until one day when Brian is out doing his nightly muggings, when he robs his new girlfriend; Stacy Armstrong, who just so happens to be a Police Officer! In the tangle Brian slices Stacy's face to bits. Now he must prove his innocence and go back on a robbing spree to afford for Stacy to have a plastic surgeon to fix her face. Now Brian must prove his love the only way he knows how; be stealing purses. But will it be enough to win back Stacy? How long can he avoid the long Armstrong of the law?
It's got everything you want from a romantic comedy; a mismatched pair, a man attempting to prove his love, car chases, explosions and sliced faces!
Project #2: Spoof Movie (Codename: Spoof Movie, Slogan: “The Scariest Epic Teen Movie where a Diaster Happens”)
Project #3: British Gangster Flick (Codename: It's Dyer in London)
You know the Guy Richie type of film. It'll involve drugs, swearing, guns, violence, swearing, Danny Dyer and swearing. Simple enough plot; our protagonist; Danny Dyer is a run-of-the-mill marijuana dealer, he's asked to do a favour by a notorious London drug baron (also played by Danny Dyer), but something goes wrong; he gets ripped off. Now the drug baron wants Danny Dyer to get him his money back or Danny and his whole family are all going to be shot up like a smack-head's vein. Danny must enlist the help of his mates (all played by Danny Dyer) to rob another drug baron (played by Jason Statham). But that mission is put in jeopardy when Danny Dyer falls in love with Jason Statham's wife (played by Danny Dyer). Later on Danny Dyer figures out he was set up by the [original] drug baron. What will he do?
It has Dyer written all over it.
Project #4: Coming of Age Film (Codename: British Pasty, Slogan: “Smash that Pasty”)
This is your American Pie style film. A bunch of teens on a mission to get their end away... but this time set in England! So it has all those quintessential British traits; pregnant teenagers, someone gets glassed, the word “gash” said over 300 times, racist cab drivers, red telephone boxes (used in the sex scenes), people throwing up in the street and Danny Dyer has a cameo as an umbrella.
In the end everyone realises that the most important thing isn't sex, nor love, but condoms.
Project #5: Extreme Asian Horror Film (Codename: My Thai Bride's Revenge)
My speciality, although again with a British twist. Man meets Thai girl online and over time they become close. She moves to England and they marry. Although man lives in a really racist part of the UK where the BNP have a strong-hold. One day she's beaten to death while out on a walk. Then strange things begin to happen to the BNP members. Enter archetypical Asian-Woman-Ghost-with-Long-Black-hair that does horrific things to the ones that killed her. It gets gory, someone is run over by a combine-harvester at one point.
This film also teaches people not be racist.
Of course I would also have to take a major role in casting for this film. The part of the Thai Bride would have to be played by a real Thai lady (for authenticity reasons), so I would be forced to go on a reconnaissance mission to Thailand to set up auditions to find the perfect candidate. All expenses paid for by the film company, of course. This reconnaissance mission could take up to forty years, that's how dedicated I am to this picture.
This list kind proves my point, I barely put any effort in [and it shows] to come up with these ideas. Why am I wasting my time trying to be original?
Monday, 18 October 2010
5 Worst Times to Have an Acid Flashback
There's probably never a good time to have an Acid Flashback but I got to thinking about the worse possible times an ex-LSD user could have a flashback. Now I've never had an Acid Flashback and I doubt I ever will, as I've only done LSD once. I didn't hallucinate, I just felt really euphoric. Although I did wash it down with a bottle of Southern Comfort and I was on my own. Boredom is a disease that must be destroyed at any cost. The other reason I did this is because people seem to like lists, apparently they're easier to read when compared to my long-winded rants that occasionally go off topic, much like this is now, so let's just get down to it;
5) At the Alter of Your Own Wedding
It's supposed to be the happiest day of your life but if you have a flashback whilst stood at the alter, it's safe to say things could go pear shaped. First you just think it's nerves but by the time you've stripped naked, shat into hands and you've smeared large quantities of faecal matter all over your grandmother-in-law [to be], it's safe to say you are experiencing an Acid Flashback. This will more than likely put an halt to the days proceedings and eventually ruin the relationship with the woman that you was to marry, leaving you to die alone.
4) In an MRI Machine
Imagine you've been struck down with some strange illness and you've gone to the hospital for the doctors to figure out what's wrong with you. They've got all their best doctors trying to diagnose you, even the guy with the limp is working on you. They think they've sussed it out and they're just checking your body for anything irregular in the MRI machine, then BAM; you have a flashback. They think it's a new symptom and they go on a new path trying to figure out what's wrong with you. The flashback stumps them and eventually you die of some curable disease.
3) While Sky-Diving
Now this would never happen to me, I'm not into extreme risk taking hobbies such as sky-diving, if I want an adrenaline rush I'd simply inject myself in the neck with a syringe full of adrenaline and kick the wall of the hinges [yes, the wall, not the door, anyone can kick a door of the hinges, it takes a real man to kick the wall of the hinges]. Anyway, having an Acid Flashback whilst sky-diving is going to be shit. Firstly death is inevitable [as you're not going to be able to get a grip and pull the chord to release your parachute – I mean a mental 'grip' not a physical, hand-grasping-the-chord 'grip'], which is good reason for it to be shit, yet the whole process of falling through the atmosphere while tripping your fucking balls off is really going to fuck with your head for the next couple of minutes of your life. You'll be praying for increased falling rate just to end the madness that's taking place in your mind. I'm sure when you're turned for a solid based form to a liquid based form with the help of a concrete [and velocity], you'll breathe a breath of relief – if you could breathe, it's probably safe to say your lungs are so intertwined with gravel they'd be completely useless and you had a Donor Card too – that was pointless!
2) Whilst attempting to Summon Satan with an Ouija Board amongst Friends that Believe in Supernatural Beings and are Extremely Gullible.
If you can't see where this is going you're a fool. So... you're sat around an Ouija Board with some mates that are “well in to ghost and that”, of course being a rationally thinking person you fully well understand that spirits and Lucifer don't exist, you're just there to pick on the others. But midway through, you're hit with an Acid Flashback. Your gullible as fuck mates wonder what the fuck is going down as you spaz out and talk crazy. One shouts out; “He's speaking in tongues!” They all squeal like little four year old toddlers, as they clamber around the room, spilling the Ouija Board to the floor. “He's possessed by Satan”, screams another friend. Then one of your mates [probably the one you secretly hate, but everyone else likes him so you're forced to hang around with him, even though you know he's really a proper cunt] decides to be a hero and come to the rescue [see, told you he was a cunt]. He quickly grabs the nearest heavy blunt object; lamp, bottle, small child, and proceeds to smash your skull open, whilst quoting The Exorcist; “May the evil inside of you be gone, may the evil inside of you be gone …”, he continues to pound away as your brain slowly oozes out of your cranium, forever spouting lines from The Exorcist; “... you're mother sucks cocks in hell!” [see, he really is a cunt]. It's safe to say you're no longer having a flashback because you're dead.
1) When Defending yourself in Court on Charges of being Clinically Insane
OK, maybe the average Joe Bloggs doesn't find himself in this situation that regularly, I understand that. But imagine it; you're in court having to defend yourself on charges of being clinically insane, I'm not sure how you made it to this point, maybe it had something to do with you using shit as paint substitute on your grandmother-in-law [to be] at your wedding. Either way you're there. It's actually going quite well, you're presenting yourself as a normal run of the mill citizen that just had a 'bad episode' once and people shouldn't judge you on that. Then the inevitable happens, you start tripping out, you attempt to clamber out of the witness box onto the Judge's lap, he yells for security, you take his wig and place it on your head, elevate yourself to his desk and begin to dance around like a Native American. Security attempt to capture you, so you try to fend of these 'cowboys' with your 'axe' [the Judge's gavel]. You strike them across the head. You jump from the desk and run towards the jury, propelling yourself into their box, crawling across them as you lash out pain with your 'axe'. Eventually security grab you and everything calms down, by the time you come around from the flashback it's too late. You will be spending the rest of your days in one of those jackets where the sleeves tie together at the back.
So there we have it. Remember children drugs are bad and you should never do them.
5) At the Alter of Your Own Wedding
It's supposed to be the happiest day of your life but if you have a flashback whilst stood at the alter, it's safe to say things could go pear shaped. First you just think it's nerves but by the time you've stripped naked, shat into hands and you've smeared large quantities of faecal matter all over your grandmother-in-law [to be], it's safe to say you are experiencing an Acid Flashback. This will more than likely put an halt to the days proceedings and eventually ruin the relationship with the woman that you was to marry, leaving you to die alone.
4) In an MRI Machine
Imagine you've been struck down with some strange illness and you've gone to the hospital for the doctors to figure out what's wrong with you. They've got all their best doctors trying to diagnose you, even the guy with the limp is working on you. They think they've sussed it out and they're just checking your body for anything irregular in the MRI machine, then BAM; you have a flashback. They think it's a new symptom and they go on a new path trying to figure out what's wrong with you. The flashback stumps them and eventually you die of some curable disease.
3) While Sky-Diving
Now this would never happen to me, I'm not into extreme risk taking hobbies such as sky-diving, if I want an adrenaline rush I'd simply inject myself in the neck with a syringe full of adrenaline and kick the wall of the hinges [yes, the wall, not the door, anyone can kick a door of the hinges, it takes a real man to kick the wall of the hinges]. Anyway, having an Acid Flashback whilst sky-diving is going to be shit. Firstly death is inevitable [as you're not going to be able to get a grip and pull the chord to release your parachute – I mean a mental 'grip' not a physical, hand-grasping-the-chord 'grip'], which is good reason for it to be shit, yet the whole process of falling through the atmosphere while tripping your fucking balls off is really going to fuck with your head for the next couple of minutes of your life. You'll be praying for increased falling rate just to end the madness that's taking place in your mind. I'm sure when you're turned for a solid based form to a liquid based form with the help of a concrete [and velocity], you'll breathe a breath of relief – if you could breathe, it's probably safe to say your lungs are so intertwined with gravel they'd be completely useless and you had a Donor Card too – that was pointless!
2) Whilst attempting to Summon Satan with an Ouija Board amongst Friends that Believe in Supernatural Beings and are Extremely Gullible.
If you can't see where this is going you're a fool. So... you're sat around an Ouija Board with some mates that are “well in to ghost and that”, of course being a rationally thinking person you fully well understand that spirits and Lucifer don't exist, you're just there to pick on the others. But midway through, you're hit with an Acid Flashback. Your gullible as fuck mates wonder what the fuck is going down as you spaz out and talk crazy. One shouts out; “He's speaking in tongues!” They all squeal like little four year old toddlers, as they clamber around the room, spilling the Ouija Board to the floor. “He's possessed by Satan”, screams another friend. Then one of your mates [probably the one you secretly hate, but everyone else likes him so you're forced to hang around with him, even though you know he's really a proper cunt] decides to be a hero and come to the rescue [see, told you he was a cunt]. He quickly grabs the nearest heavy blunt object; lamp, bottle, small child, and proceeds to smash your skull open, whilst quoting The Exorcist; “May the evil inside of you be gone, may the evil inside of you be gone …”, he continues to pound away as your brain slowly oozes out of your cranium, forever spouting lines from The Exorcist; “... you're mother sucks cocks in hell!” [see, he really is a cunt]. It's safe to say you're no longer having a flashback because you're dead.
1) When Defending yourself in Court on Charges of being Clinically Insane
OK, maybe the average Joe Bloggs doesn't find himself in this situation that regularly, I understand that. But imagine it; you're in court having to defend yourself on charges of being clinically insane, I'm not sure how you made it to this point, maybe it had something to do with you using shit as paint substitute on your grandmother-in-law [to be] at your wedding. Either way you're there. It's actually going quite well, you're presenting yourself as a normal run of the mill citizen that just had a 'bad episode' once and people shouldn't judge you on that. Then the inevitable happens, you start tripping out, you attempt to clamber out of the witness box onto the Judge's lap, he yells for security, you take his wig and place it on your head, elevate yourself to his desk and begin to dance around like a Native American. Security attempt to capture you, so you try to fend of these 'cowboys' with your 'axe' [the Judge's gavel]. You strike them across the head. You jump from the desk and run towards the jury, propelling yourself into their box, crawling across them as you lash out pain with your 'axe'. Eventually security grab you and everything calms down, by the time you come around from the flashback it's too late. You will be spending the rest of your days in one of those jackets where the sleeves tie together at the back.
So there we have it. Remember children drugs are bad and you should never do them.
Monday, 11 October 2010
Best Man for Hire
I'm opposed to marriage, it doesn't make sense to me. A large portion of marriages fail and although a few couples stay together, I simply assume they live miserable lives and would divorce but they're used to each others company and they know they're not going to get anyone else, so they just plod on until death do them part. Plus, one day I hope to have some money in my bank account and I don't see why my 'wife' should be entitled to that just for marrying me. Also, the whole ceremony seems like too much. Seriously women, what's wrong with you? “I want a big church wedding!” Get a grip, why throw so much money at something you'll eventually regret? Of course if I ever do get married [which I not], it'd have to be a simple affair; registry office, t-shirts, jeans, trainers, Southern Comfort, Wedding Space Cake. A Church wouldn't even be on the cards. I can't enter a House of God without bursting into flames. Although that seems like a good escape plan if I ever get trapped by some woman; [Vicar talking to my Bride;] “Sorry, no wedding today. Your fiancé spontaneously combusted when he entered the church, now he's dead.” Yes, that is me pointing out that I'd rather be dead than married.
Although I'm opposed to marriage I would love to be someone's Best Man.
This might seem hypocritical, but let me point out I'm against me getting married, if other people have deluded themselves into thinking that marriage is for them, they're more than welcome to go ahead with it. I'm not going to attempt to talk anyone out of it. I will advise them to open a secret bank account so they can afford to live after the inevitable divorce comes. But that's it, other than that I will give them [false] congratulations and wish them all the best [as they'll need it].
Anyway, like I said, I would love to be someone's Best Man. Being a Best Man is the best role possible in a wedding - well the clue is in the title. The Best Man gets to all the best stuff; organise the stag-do, give a speech and fuck the best looking bridesmaid. Who wouldn't want to be the Best Man?
If I was someone's best man this is how things would go down:
A usual Stag Do would consist of large amounts of alcohol and probably a strip-club with the Groom eventually getting handcuffed in a random place after being stripped naked. I like to think of myself as a unique individual, but the typical Stag Do is already fucking awesome, of course I'd just have to turn it up a notch;
Firstly forget just a one night Stag Do, the one I'd organise would be a weekend affair. Starting Friday afternoon ending Monday morning.
Secondly forget Blackpool or Brighton or some other shitty UK destination for all the action to go down. Nah, we'd be taking a quick flight to Amsterdam – Mecca for stoners. You see, large amounts of alcohol is good, but intertwined with copious amounts of cannabis is much better.
Thirdly forget a simple strip-club, because we'll be having orgies with the top-priced prostitutes, the best Amsterdam has to offer. It's important for the Groom to have some of the weirdest sex ever, seeing as soon he'll be married and everyone knows married couples only do the missionary position on the rare occasions that they do actually have sex.
It's important that the Best Man's Speech is funny, so it's a good job I'm fucking hilarious! Of course, the speech would consist of some brilliant and embarrassing stories about the Groom. I'd then denounce the idea of marriage, just to make the mood of the room uncomfortable. I'd then proceed to use the word 'cunt' as many times as possible. Then I would drop a freestyle and promote my album. I'd end the speech with a video of our prostitute-filled orgy from Amsterdam, with the backing track of some horrendous heavily metal band.
*The speech is totally dependant on how drunk I am at that stage of the day. It could be what I just described or it could be a drunken, slurry rant that nobody can comprehend.
*Again this depends on how drunk I am, I may end up pulling the worse looking Bridesmaid depending on the strength of my beer-googles.
So there it is. Simple stuff, but bound to be legendary.
Now the problem for me; I need someone to be a Best Man for. Yes, I have plenty of friends, but they're not the best looking group of people [no offence guys] and even if they are likely to get married I know I'm going to get looked over for the obvious reasons [see the list of things I want to do – situated above]. I know that I'll get passed up for a friend that is sane and willing to help the proceedings of the wedding go well, whereas I'll simply be a massive hindrance to the whole situation.
So I'm willing to hire myself out as a Best Man to anyone willing to take me on. No charge. Just the pleasure of being your Best Man is payment enough. Leave contact details in the comment box below.
*Ben Broughton is also available for Lesbian Hen Nights too.
Although I'm opposed to marriage I would love to be someone's Best Man.
This might seem hypocritical, but let me point out I'm against me getting married, if other people have deluded themselves into thinking that marriage is for them, they're more than welcome to go ahead with it. I'm not going to attempt to talk anyone out of it. I will advise them to open a secret bank account so they can afford to live after the inevitable divorce comes. But that's it, other than that I will give them [false] congratulations and wish them all the best [as they'll need it].
Anyway, like I said, I would love to be someone's Best Man. Being a Best Man is the best role possible in a wedding - well the clue is in the title. The Best Man gets to all the best stuff; organise the stag-do, give a speech and fuck the best looking bridesmaid. Who wouldn't want to be the Best Man?
If I was someone's best man this is how things would go down:
Stag Do
A usual Stag Do would consist of large amounts of alcohol and probably a strip-club with the Groom eventually getting handcuffed in a random place after being stripped naked. I like to think of myself as a unique individual, but the typical Stag Do is already fucking awesome, of course I'd just have to turn it up a notch;
Firstly forget just a one night Stag Do, the one I'd organise would be a weekend affair. Starting Friday afternoon ending Monday morning.
Secondly forget Blackpool or Brighton or some other shitty UK destination for all the action to go down. Nah, we'd be taking a quick flight to Amsterdam – Mecca for stoners. You see, large amounts of alcohol is good, but intertwined with copious amounts of cannabis is much better.
Thirdly forget a simple strip-club, because we'll be having orgies with the top-priced prostitutes, the best Amsterdam has to offer. It's important for the Groom to have some of the weirdest sex ever, seeing as soon he'll be married and everyone knows married couples only do the missionary position on the rare occasions that they do actually have sex.
Best Man Speech
It's important that the Best Man's Speech is funny, so it's a good job I'm fucking hilarious! Of course, the speech would consist of some brilliant and embarrassing stories about the Groom. I'd then denounce the idea of marriage, just to make the mood of the room uncomfortable. I'd then proceed to use the word 'cunt' as many times as possible. Then I would drop a freestyle and promote my album. I'd end the speech with a video of our prostitute-filled orgy from Amsterdam, with the backing track of some horrendous heavily metal band.
*The speech is totally dependant on how drunk I am at that stage of the day. It could be what I just described or it could be a drunken, slurry rant that nobody can comprehend.
Sleeping with the Best Looking* Bridesmaid
I'm not going to go into detail, this is between me and her. All I'll say is that it will involve a dead squirrel and a power-tool.
*Again this depends on how drunk I am, I may end up pulling the worse looking Bridesmaid depending on the strength of my beer-googles.
So there it is. Simple stuff, but bound to be legendary.
Now the problem for me; I need someone to be a Best Man for. Yes, I have plenty of friends, but they're not the best looking group of people [no offence guys] and even if they are likely to get married I know I'm going to get looked over for the obvious reasons [see the list of things I want to do – situated above]. I know that I'll get passed up for a friend that is sane and willing to help the proceedings of the wedding go well, whereas I'll simply be a massive hindrance to the whole situation.
So I'm willing to hire myself out as a Best Man to anyone willing to take me on. No charge. Just the pleasure of being your Best Man is payment enough. Leave contact details in the comment box below.
*Ben Broughton is also available for Lesbian Hen Nights too.
Minimum Wage Slave
I’ve been in constant employment for seven years, ever since I was studying for my A-Levels, in my own sad way I’m quite proud of this fact and seeing as I was voted; “Most Likely to Claim Dole” in my year at school, I feel proud that I’ve proven my ex-classmates wrong, it’s one of the few things I have over ex-classmates; apart from not having multiple babies (with different mothers), not having been to jail and not having a serious (Class A) drug problem – yes I have my alcohol and marijuana addiction, but it could be worse.
The problem is I’ve worked for the same company for all this time. It’s one of those big supermarkets; I not say which one because I don’t want to advertise it in my Blog (if they throw me some of that money that they pay for Z-List Celebrities to be in their television adverts, I’d probably consider it). Anyway, the thing is although I’ve worked there for so long, I’m still treated like a piece of shit, in fact, I’m treated worse than a piece of shit because pieces of shit don’t just get shouted at for any reason so the shouter can feel better about him/herself. That’d just be weird to see someone screaming at a piece a shit, although it would be entertaining. Take a minute now to picture a gentleman in a shirt and tie, stood leaning over a piece of shit, bellowing at it, tiny splats of spit exiting his mouth as his rage increases, his face getting redder and redder, as the pile of shit simply stays still (it is a shit after all, what else do they do?). Now imagine a fly landing on the shit, the man is still shouting, the fly begins to take off and accidentally flies into the man’s mouth, he panics and chokes to death – it may be impossible, but it’s a slightly funny image. In an attempt of bringing this back to whatever point I was making; I thought that being treated like a piece of shit was just the usual thing that happened when you started a job (at the time I was 17, I kinda believed I’d get the short end of the stick for a while), but SEVEN YEARS (yes, capitals, it’s a long time) later I’m still in the same position. Stagnant in the ranks of a supermarket, feel free to mock my insignificant existence.
Stop the mocking, continue reading …
The thing now is that as I’m entering the real world I desperately need to make more money, living life without student loans is so fucking hard. I can barely understand how people have done it for so long. It kind of makes me wish I’d used those loans a little wiser too. All I did with that cash was fritter it away. I wasn’t even one of those idiots that goes out on the first day (of getting the loan) and blows it on a massive wide-screen plasma TV, now I actually wish I had done that, at least I’d have a massive wide-screen plasma TV in my possession. I wish I’d have gone to the Casino with a grand, walked up to the roulette table and placed it all on red. Yes, I could have lost it all but at least I would have taken a chance to make more money. I have nothing to show for all that loan money that’ll I’ll be paying back for the rest of my life*.
So I have to work for that money, the problem is the more time I spend at work the more I want to kill myself. When I’m at work and the hours slowly drag by, I keep thinking to myself; “I’m here earning minimum wage for this shit”. At times my thoughts drift to me plunging a screwdriver into my temple just to break the suicide inducing monotony. The thing is, I think, no … I know I’m so much better than my job – OK, I’m not going to find the cure for cancer, but come on I surely deserve something better than lugging shopping trolleys around. I’m sure plenty of people think/know that too. But I couldn’t give a fuck about what other people think/know, this is the real world after all now, it’s time to look out for number one. The last sentence is worrying to me, as I’ve just reread it, I’m a socialist and work is making more right-wing the more time I spend their. Although, I’ve never understood why more people aren’t socialist that share my position. The amount of people in this country working for companies that make unbelievable profits but only see pittance, must be huge, yet they all just take it on the chin. For fuck sake people, when are we going to rise up? Make it fast, because the way I’m leaning to the right, I’ll be a full blown capitalist, hell-bent on protecting my own interests, making as much money as possible and voting Conservative by the end of the week.
Growing up I actually deluded myself into believing what teachers used to spout about education being the key to everything, that’s one of the reasons I attended University. But look at me now; working a shitty job and in loads of debt. No career prospects to look forward too. Why the fuck did I even bother? I could have just stayed in my incest ridden town working the same shitty job (that I have now) and avoided this gargantuan debt situation that haunts the back of my mind every time I attempt to sleep. It’s as if a little oager is by my bed, whispering in my ear as I start to nod off; “Think of that debt Ben … You’ll never pay it off … That anchor’s going to weigh you down for the rest of your shitty life.”
The thing is I’m only just starting to come to terms with the fact that I’m going to have to walk down the same path millions of people have walked before me. The same path millions [of people] are walking down now. The same path millions will follow me down later in life. I’m just going to have to work a shitty job for the rest of my days. I’m going to have to swallow my pride, rid my mind of any thoughts of my own grandeur and be ordered around by ill-informed, unappreciative, lazy bosses, I’ll have to work with fellow employees that will do aspects of the job wrong and leave me to carry their weight, I’ll have to take shit from customers and still treat them as if their were some kind of deity that must be praised and I’ll have to do it all with a fucking smile on my face. Grinning from ear to ear as the pennies slowly amount into my bank account because I am nothing more than a minimum wage slave.
I thought there was more to life than this, but I guess there’s not. I suppose I’ll just slip into the life that most people live; working a dead-end job, just scraping by, living for the weekend; getting wasted on what little extra money I have to relieve my mind of the horrendous week that preceded Friday night. That’s the rest of my life in a nutshell. That’s what I have to look forward too, and sorry to break it to you; but that will more than likely be your future too. Of course there’s always the slim chance you’ll get a career, best of luck with that. Me on the other hand, I could win the Lotto, maybe I’ll get lucky and get hit by a bus or maybe I’ll just spike myself in the temple next time I’m work.
*I do have my crippling alcohol addiction, but I don’t count that, it was already festering, it’s just that the loan money took it into overdrive.
I know after a long hiatus, this isn’t ‘very funny’, but as most of my half-finished Blogs I had were deleted, I’ve started from scratch. This was more about me getting shit off my chest. I’ll be back with drug talk and cock jokes soon enough. Peace.
The problem is I’ve worked for the same company for all this time. It’s one of those big supermarkets; I not say which one because I don’t want to advertise it in my Blog (if they throw me some of that money that they pay for Z-List Celebrities to be in their television adverts, I’d probably consider it). Anyway, the thing is although I’ve worked there for so long, I’m still treated like a piece of shit, in fact, I’m treated worse than a piece of shit because pieces of shit don’t just get shouted at for any reason so the shouter can feel better about him/herself. That’d just be weird to see someone screaming at a piece a shit, although it would be entertaining. Take a minute now to picture a gentleman in a shirt and tie, stood leaning over a piece of shit, bellowing at it, tiny splats of spit exiting his mouth as his rage increases, his face getting redder and redder, as the pile of shit simply stays still (it is a shit after all, what else do they do?). Now imagine a fly landing on the shit, the man is still shouting, the fly begins to take off and accidentally flies into the man’s mouth, he panics and chokes to death – it may be impossible, but it’s a slightly funny image. In an attempt of bringing this back to whatever point I was making; I thought that being treated like a piece of shit was just the usual thing that happened when you started a job (at the time I was 17, I kinda believed I’d get the short end of the stick for a while), but SEVEN YEARS (yes, capitals, it’s a long time) later I’m still in the same position. Stagnant in the ranks of a supermarket, feel free to mock my insignificant existence.
Stop the mocking, continue reading …
The thing now is that as I’m entering the real world I desperately need to make more money, living life without student loans is so fucking hard. I can barely understand how people have done it for so long. It kind of makes me wish I’d used those loans a little wiser too. All I did with that cash was fritter it away. I wasn’t even one of those idiots that goes out on the first day (of getting the loan) and blows it on a massive wide-screen plasma TV, now I actually wish I had done that, at least I’d have a massive wide-screen plasma TV in my possession. I wish I’d have gone to the Casino with a grand, walked up to the roulette table and placed it all on red. Yes, I could have lost it all but at least I would have taken a chance to make more money. I have nothing to show for all that loan money that’ll I’ll be paying back for the rest of my life*.
So I have to work for that money, the problem is the more time I spend at work the more I want to kill myself. When I’m at work and the hours slowly drag by, I keep thinking to myself; “I’m here earning minimum wage for this shit”. At times my thoughts drift to me plunging a screwdriver into my temple just to break the suicide inducing monotony. The thing is, I think, no … I know I’m so much better than my job – OK, I’m not going to find the cure for cancer, but come on I surely deserve something better than lugging shopping trolleys around. I’m sure plenty of people think/know that too. But I couldn’t give a fuck about what other people think/know, this is the real world after all now, it’s time to look out for number one. The last sentence is worrying to me, as I’ve just reread it, I’m a socialist and work is making more right-wing the more time I spend their. Although, I’ve never understood why more people aren’t socialist that share my position. The amount of people in this country working for companies that make unbelievable profits but only see pittance, must be huge, yet they all just take it on the chin. For fuck sake people, when are we going to rise up? Make it fast, because the way I’m leaning to the right, I’ll be a full blown capitalist, hell-bent on protecting my own interests, making as much money as possible and voting Conservative by the end of the week.
Growing up I actually deluded myself into believing what teachers used to spout about education being the key to everything, that’s one of the reasons I attended University. But look at me now; working a shitty job and in loads of debt. No career prospects to look forward too. Why the fuck did I even bother? I could have just stayed in my incest ridden town working the same shitty job (that I have now) and avoided this gargantuan debt situation that haunts the back of my mind every time I attempt to sleep. It’s as if a little oager is by my bed, whispering in my ear as I start to nod off; “Think of that debt Ben … You’ll never pay it off … That anchor’s going to weigh you down for the rest of your shitty life.”
The thing is I’m only just starting to come to terms with the fact that I’m going to have to walk down the same path millions of people have walked before me. The same path millions [of people] are walking down now. The same path millions will follow me down later in life. I’m just going to have to work a shitty job for the rest of my days. I’m going to have to swallow my pride, rid my mind of any thoughts of my own grandeur and be ordered around by ill-informed, unappreciative, lazy bosses, I’ll have to work with fellow employees that will do aspects of the job wrong and leave me to carry their weight, I’ll have to take shit from customers and still treat them as if their were some kind of deity that must be praised and I’ll have to do it all with a fucking smile on my face. Grinning from ear to ear as the pennies slowly amount into my bank account because I am nothing more than a minimum wage slave.
I thought there was more to life than this, but I guess there’s not. I suppose I’ll just slip into the life that most people live; working a dead-end job, just scraping by, living for the weekend; getting wasted on what little extra money I have to relieve my mind of the horrendous week that preceded Friday night. That’s the rest of my life in a nutshell. That’s what I have to look forward too, and sorry to break it to you; but that will more than likely be your future too. Of course there’s always the slim chance you’ll get a career, best of luck with that. Me on the other hand, I could win the Lotto, maybe I’ll get lucky and get hit by a bus or maybe I’ll just spike myself in the temple next time I’m work.
*I do have my crippling alcohol addiction, but I don’t count that, it was already festering, it’s just that the loan money took it into overdrive.
I know after a long hiatus, this isn’t ‘very funny’, but as most of my half-finished Blogs I had were deleted, I’ve started from scratch. This was more about me getting shit off my chest. I’ll be back with drug talk and cock jokes soon enough. Peace.
Tuesday, 28 September 2010
Just to let you ... NO!! Not all my work!!
Hello.
This is not an actual Blog post, well it is, but it’s not if you get my drift. I’m just informing anyone that will read this (that’s you), that I have not died.
I’m sure some vicious rumours of be in circulation; that I was found face down in a bath full of Southern Comfort (not true), I was beaten into a coma by a Bangkok lady-boy (also not true), I was arrested on account of indecent exposure (no comment).
The fact is my PC recently picked up a virus (proof machines do emulate their masters) and I have been yet to restore the piece of shit to it’s usual self. In the process I have lost a large amount of work; Blogs I was working on, short stories and scripts. Of course this has put me on the back foot (that’s putting it likely). With me being an absolute fool, I rarely back up any work even though I was working with a PC that has displayed endless amounts of problems for the years that I’ve had it. In the future I will adopt what I like to call the Onyx procedure and back-the-fuck-up (bacdafucup - quite a good joke, although I’m sure 99.9% of people not get it).
I’m still yet to be in the possession of a computer that is able to correct to the glorious thing that is the internet, so I’m limited to I can do. This is, of course, an horrendous ordeal for me because most activities in my life revolve around the internet. It has given me a chance to read books, but they’re barely interactive, no wonder they’re a dying form of medium.
I’m quite unhappy that although I have been away for over a month I have no new followers. Damn you people. All I have in my life is my Blog and my happiness is measured on how many people follow me. I want to be stalked.
Anyway, this has just been a senseless rambling. If you missed the point, I was poorly trying to make, I’ll sum it up now for you; I have no internet access, everything I was working on has been lost. Usual rants and shit such as that will return as soon as these problems are fixed.
Peace.
Ben Broughton
*I’d like to note that this was written on a Mac, that’s set to US style spelling and I have no idea how to change it to (real - yeah, I said it) English. For all their apparent great abilities, they surely are fucking annoying. Although the worst aspect has to be that fact the ‘ctrl & c’ isn’t ‘Copy’, instead you have to press ‘c’ and the bloody ‘Apple Key’ (aka ‘cmd’). That really annoys me.
Monday, 16 August 2010
The Cervical Civil War
After some self deliberation [with myself] I have come to the conclusion that soon enough I will cut off most of my friendships with friends that happen to be the opposite sex.
But Ben’s that’s sexist, you can’t be sexist!
Wrong! I shouldn’t be sexist, yet I can be sexist. I shouldn’t push an old lady down I flight of stairs, but I can. Do you see the difference?
This has not come about because they are the weaker sex, or anything to do with that, it has come about because of woman’s hate for themselves. So they only have themselves to blame.
Women love to moan, complain and bitch, that’s a scientifically proven fact. But the recent level of moaning, complaining and bitching has reached astronomical levels, so much so that I can no longer bear listening to a female slag off another female. Yeah, it used to be funny listening to one girl slag off another girl behind her back, but I think I’ve well surpassed my quota of bitchiness and backstabbing.
The fundamental relationship between three women goes like this;
Woman #1 talks to Woman #2 about Woman #3
Woman #2 talks to Woman #3 about Woman #1
Woman #3 talks to Woman #1 about Woman #2
With such backstabbing and two faced actions I’m surprised Women were even able to rise up all those years ago and stop being slaves to men. What would Martina Louisa Queen and Michelle XX [Chromosome] have to say about this if they were still alive? It’s almost as if women united, got the vote and thought; ‘Well, now we’re equal to men we have no common enemy, hey, let’s hate each other’.
In the 2005 French film 13 Tzameti people ‘compete’ in a mass game of Russian roulette, in which the individuals stand in a circle, each man pointing a gun at the person in front. They all stare at a light bulb, when it goes on/off they fire. This is the perfect analogy for female relationships, but instead of a gun women are armed with knives and they just keep stabbing each other in the back, then they all turn 180 degrees and begin to stab another woman in the back.
No matter how much feminists want to wave their fishy figures at men and blame them for all their own downfalls, women are much more destructive to themselves then men could ever be. Men maybe sexist, misogynistic and chauvinistic, but it is the envious backstabbing of women that is the real problem facing the female race. A male may call a promiscuous woman a ‘slapper’ or a ‘slag’ to his mates, but it’s the friends of this promiscuous woman that will completely character assassinate the poor girl behind her back to anyone that’ll listen.
But why does this happen? We are women so hell bent on ruining each others reputations and lives?
I don’t know, to be honest, if I did I would be able to bring peace to the female kind. I have my theories, of course, but I have things on everything from religion (total fabrication) to abortion (good stuff).
It’s doubtful that there’ll even be peace between women; we’ll be seeing Palestinians and Israelis skipping around the Gaza Strip hand in hand before females learn to stop bitching about each other at every opportunity. The best advice I can give is just remain out of the way of the crossfire, you never know when you could get dragged into a civil war that you’re not a civilian of.
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