Wednesday, 28 April 2010

Job Centre Checklist...

Rape alarm. Check.

Taser gun. Check. Just in case rape alarm fails. You never can be too careful, etc.

Industrial strength hand sanitiser / Bleach. Check. It's not OCD, it's common sense.

Valium. Check. Procured from dodgydrugsthatwillprobablykillyou.com

Vodka. Check. To help wash down Valium. Procured from Lidl as am now forced to economise. Yum.

Sunglasses. Check. Yes, tis rude to stare at people less fortunate than self, but with sunglasses, they’ll never know. And it also prevents people from recognising me, see, so it’s win-win.

Pen. Check. As do not like using theirs because a) you don’t know who has used them and b) They are often chewed or have been coughed on and have reams of sellotape inexplicably wrapped round them which attracts hair and bogies. Not mine, I hasten to add.

Anti-boredom drug Eg. Suppository / Ecstacy / Miaow Miaow or similar. Check. For employees there. I’ve never met people so uninterested, despondent and jaded. Apart from my Dad, but he doesn’t count.

Coldsore cream. Check. Everyone in there seems to have one.

Bible. Check. So I can read the bit where Baby Jesus has a hissy fit and screams, WHY HAVE THOU FORSAKEN ME, PA? (or something along those lines) and feel empathetic and sage-like.

Please note, if you ever have to sign on and see someone who appears to be off their tits on drugs and booze, who also appears to be wearing sunglasses and is reading the Bible as he strokes his chin... do NOT say hello. If you do, you might get tasered. You have been warned.

Alternative Career #6: The New SuBo...

Pros: I said, SUBO not SUMO. You know, as in Susan Boyle. I could do with being plucked from obscurity whilst having global fame, riches and a council house in Scotland thrust my way. I’m not doing anything else at the moment. Besides, I’ve got as much stubble as her, I’m equally as rotund and after a few sherries, I look just as vacant. Mentalism is in my family genes and I even know ALL the words to I Dreamed a Dream. I know, get me.

Cons: Whilst I may know all the words to I Dreamed a Dream, I fear that my rendition might not go down as well as hers. I think I might struggle with the ‘money note’ at the end. Besides, it’s a bit depressing isn’t it? All that woe and self pity – that’s not what Joe Public want is it? I’d sing something more uplifting and joyous. Like Aga-do. Thinking about it, I don’t know how I’d cope with someone like Piers Morgan rejecting me by hitting his buzzer as I approach the climax of my performance. I may attempt a spinning-bird kick on him – and that’s no good for humanity. Believe me.

Chances: What do you mean, the Britain’s Got Talent auditions have been and gone? Oh bugger. Oh well. Maybe next year, eh?

Friday, 9 April 2010

Why I will NEVER vote Tory..


I arrived home yesterday after a hideous day at the office to find a badly written pamphlet hanging through the letter box. It made a lame, ill-fated attempt to persuade me to vote for a fat, smug, sweaty Tory with bad hair. It did nothing to lift my mood. It's now sitting in my recycling box and that's where it will stay, unless I run out of toilet paper.

You see, ever since I was a kid, I've always thought of the Conservative Party as a selfish, spiteful bunch of old bastards and for all of the slime and tiresome shite that they're currently spewing, my view hasn't changed.

I grew up in 1980s Britain as part of a community that was decimated by a Conservative Administration hell bent on bloody-minded ideals and relentless economic growth. I cringe when people champion Thatcher and what she did. So she was a conviction politician and got things done? She was a bully and a tyrant whose policies sewed the seeds of the economic catastrophe that we're facing now, although things weren't any better then. For many, they were worse and the minority were allowed to prosper disproportionately at the sake of the majority. Unemployment was higher in the 1980s as interest rates skyrocketed. Our industry was sold off to the highest bidder. For a woman who offered a petulant, 'no, no, no,' to parliament over Europe, it was amazing how eager she was to sell our 'family silver' to them... And at the centre of their economic policy was the deregulation of the banks. Remind me, how did that turn out again?

As a nation, we don't own anything. We don't own our gas, we don't own our electricity, we don't own our transport network and we don't own our own communication networks. We are utterly reliant on foreign investment to stop us from going bankrupt. Please don't think that I'm supporting or endorsing the Labour Party by default, because I'm not. Tony Blair removed the 'labourness' out of the Labour Party when he banished Clause Four from the Labour Party's constitution, thus aligning New Labour with Tory political ideology. To that end, they have failed Britain by perpetuating Tory principles and because of that, Tony Blair will forever disgust me.

However, the economy isn't the deal breaker in terms of securing my vote...

My biggest concern is equality. To that end - and without wanting to start screaming GAY RIGHTS FOR GAYS - I will never, ever, EVER support a party with members and a leader who rejected the repeal of Section 28 - a vile piece of legislation that portrayed gay people as abnormal. In general terms, Section 28 - brought in by Thatcher's backbenchers - legitimised homophobic discrimination across the board. In doing so, it reinforced the belief that it was perfectly acceptable to discriminate against people on the basis of their sexuality and went as far as to state that if you were a teacher, not to discriminate could land you in jail.

As a gay kid growing up in the 1980s and early 1990s, this law had a pernicious effect. Simply stated, I suffered under it and I cannot forgive it.

You might think that it was 20 years ago, that society has moved on and that the Conservative Party has changed. I'm not too sure. Cameron's voting record on gay rights - the rights that directly affect me as an equal human being in society - is worrying. He opposed gay adoption and voted against the rejection of Section 28 in 2003. Despite this, in order to curry favour with the queer vote, he issued a paltry apology for Section 28 - and then aligned Tory MEPs with two of the most right wing, homophobic parties in the European Parliament. They have done nothing about Chris Grayling's (Shadow Home Secretary) bigoted comments that supported gays being turned away from a B&B on the basis of their sexuality. The prospect of Tory rule horrifies me - mainly because under their leadership, I will not feel 'equal' to the rest of the straight population. To me, asking a gay person voting Tory is a bit like asking a black person to vote BNP...

David Cameron and George Osbourne? I'd rather vote for the fucking Chuckle Brothers

Friday, 2 April 2010

RUBBISH BASTARD FRIDAY...

I am considering constructing a letter to someone in power (possibly God) in the hope that Good Friday can be renamed - otherwise I will sue under the Trade Descriptions act. You see, there is nothing good about Good Friday. So there.

Irrespective of my personal grievances about Good Friday (which I'll come to in a minute, don't you worry), I don't really understand the religious branding of the day. I mean, it's supposed to be Good because Jesus - the alleged Lord and Savour, hallelujah, clap yo' hands, etc) died for us. Apparently, his Dad sacrificed him because we couldn't behave and are dirty old sinners. Hmmmm... So the leader is as dead as a dead thing and the followers decide to name the day GOOD FRIDAY. I don't know about you, but I think it sounds a bit spiteful. It's a bit like calling it GLAD HE'S DEAD FRIDAY. Or even DING DONG BABY-J HAS GONE FRIDAY. Innit? If my personal saviour - Lord Madge, peace be upon her, etc - decided to slip off the dish, I wouldn't think, 'Oh HURRAH!' (The Daily Mail,  hetros with inferiority complexes and rubbish, self-loathing gays might, but they can SWIVEL ON IT. DRY.) Nor would I name it VOGUE FRIDAY. And if she died FOR ME, then I'd feel obliged to live out the rest of my life striking guilt-laden poses whilst looking after her kids - although I might have to send the adopted ones back - it's not as though I'm on mega bucks and four might be too much of handful.

Anyway, I digress... This particular Good Friday is anything but for the following reasons...

1. I'm at work. Whilst the rest of the populace (or so it seems) luxuriates in the splendor of a four day weekend, I am at work, dealing with miserable people and their overspilling-sewerage related problems. It's actually LESS fun than it sounds, if that's possible. In addition, I have been shouted at by three people and spoken to six people who don't speak English - which makes discussing all matters shit-worthy a right laugh. Like, ho, ho. I am also working tomorrow - NOOOOO! DOOOOOM! - and Sunday, which is difficult to swallow as a) It's Easter Sunday! He is risen (which I don't really believe, but hey ho) and Tescos isn't open for business, which is a sure sign that I shouldn't be either. Pah!

2. I have spent the last year working towards getting on a teacher training course. I've volunteered for three months, during which time I became no stranger to Lidl, Primark, Superdrug facial wash and reusing tea bags. Okay, that last bit isn't true - I'm just being dramatic. So sue me. Crushing disappointment came in the form of a 'thanks but no thanks' type letter yesterday. Apparently, I don't have enough experience. They have suggested that I get a job as classroom assistant (which I can't afford to do) and try again next year, although there is no guarantee I'll get on even if I do as they suggest. The gravity of the situation (ie. what the effing-jeff am I going to do with my life, other than sit on a park bench and drink meths through my eye) is still dawning on me, causing my stomach to flip muchly. I am trying to convince myself that kids are evil little fuckers (with limited success) and they generally turn adults very boring (which is true). Am also reminding self that most teachers I know seem to complain hugely about their jobs - they really ought to swap positions with me for a day. Hmmmm... Pass the Special Brew and fuck 'em all, etc.

3. I have just had a hot cross bun at my desk. It did not taste good. Also, something made a scary sounding crunch noise whilst chewing/inhaling (my preferred weapon of ingestion-related choice). I am now concerned that I have eaten glass, or the shell of bug with a horrible name that sounds something like DUNG and can be located under the 'parasite' section in a tropical wildlife book.

4. It is raining outside. When will winter end? I know that we're officially in British Summertime (snigger) as the clocks have propelled themselves forward by an hour, but all that seems to have happened is that it's grey and dull for a little bit longer. My car has also got a leak. And a dodgy back light. And she needs a new exhaust. And a new tyre. And the indicator light on my dashboard has decided to stop working. As has the internal light. I wish the sun would put his hat on and shout hip, hip, hip, hurrah. I'm sure I'm getting rickets - and that's all I fucking need.

5. I am having a fat day. Not surprising, since I have taken out my stress on my arteries. God bless Double Deckers, Grab Bag sized packets of crisps, M&S Sandwiches and Cornettos, even though it's not really the weather for them. Might have to stock up on male girdles. They do them as Asda, apparently.

So there we have it, GOOD FRIDAY my ARSE.
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