Antics

You've just left the club, still completely out of your head and wholly exhilarated. With pounding electronic sounds still ringing in your ears you head into the night, that witching hour chill bites at your skin which holds the sweat worked up on the dance floor an hour before. Your now heading to an after party, reflecting effusively about the night that was, exasperated, off your tits, enjoying the brief respite before the explicit shenanigan's resume.

We've all been there. If you haven't you've missed out. Weekend narcotic antics can be incredible. When its good it is savagely entertaining. The general idea is to take the brain to places its never been before, on a contorted roller-coaster ride through the depths of your emotional and spiritual being. For your average recreational drug taker, to get fucked at the weekend is to leave real life behind. Responsibilities, self expectation's, external pressures, see you later. Partying is about hedonistic self indulgence. It means forgetting about everything other than the intense drug revelry which lies ahead; the peculiar yarns, the all consuming revelations, the new modes of thought; much of which will be regrettably forgotten in the morning.

It is easy to become enamoured with such activity and to consider whole heartedly hurling yourself into the movement. Partying demands a 'fuck it' attitude which is attractive to most people as it feels good to fuck things off once in a while. When attending a rave, a festival or a debauched house party, you are socialising directly with people who hold your slightly rebellious, I reiterate slightly rebellious, perspective. If only for a night you belong and what your doing is fine as it is justified by the presence of your fellow revelers. Your all in it together. When big weekend's become the spectacles of your life you needn't pay much attention to other things going on because the frivolity at these events will be so good, everything else is merely filler. My question is when does drug taking and partying stop being about briefly departing your existence, and actually become your existence?

Drug taking for me has always been about escapism, a means of leaving my over analytical and self conscious persona behind and going mad for a night/weekend/week. When I go for it I really can fly. However I have always known since my first foray into this world, that I have to return to the realm of the living eventually and I have no problem with that…I enjoy my working life and other aspects of my social existence. However a lot of people immersed in drug culture struggle to strike a balance. Hitting big nights, hard, becomes seemingly the only ambition; smashing it becomes all that really matters. On the one hand I admire this sybaritic attitude, it is true libertarianism, definitely brave and it can have a spiritual merit also if your on a crusade to ignore societal structures and tear away from convention. However on the other hand I think, what the fuck are you doing?

Perhaps I'm being a bit square here but to hold drug taking as your primary recreation is a bad idea. Championing it as your main source of enjoyment, as your main interest, as the icon of your existence, is even worse. In doing so you are ironically inverting the associated suppositions of 'getting fucked', and turning it into something boring, customary and inane. Sitting in your mates living room every friday night shovelling ket is not 'right on'. Its a bit lame. It is also worth noting that there are things other than unadulterated jouissance to ponder when contemplating your happiness. Job satisfaction? Good relationships? Health? Personal success? Inner peace? Smashing it every weekend simply doesn't lend itself to any of these pursuits apart from if your in a niche creative industry maybe. However the majority of drug takers in society right now aren't budding Mick Jagger's. They are office clerks, receptionists and civil servants. They are weekend rockstars. Serious recreational drug taking is encompassing and antics do not stay the domain of the weekend however. If your on it Friday, Saturday and into Sunday it is the following Wednesday before you are back to anything like form, then before you know it, its Friday again and your going back for more.

Drug taking for Average Joe is borne out of apathy with day to day living, perhaps boredom in employment or an immediate lack of prospects. However once a person is fully immersed with a drug orientated sub culture because of domestic disinterest, it becomes difficult to make changes in ones life away from the party scene as the physical and mental impact of getting off your barnet is heavy. You expend so much energy at the weekend blitzing it, the week becomes more about coping and recovery and thus no substantial changes ever materialise in other areas of a bean-head's life in order to attain, dare I say it, real satisfaction.

Getting out of your head every weekend doesn't come recommended, as Ian Brown put it, its a 'Fools Gold'. However despite what law enforcers say Class A's can be incorporated into a person's life without complete detriment, just like other, legal vices such as drinking alcohol, smoking and gambling. Of course it can. Just go easy on it, let the strange subterranean place one goes to when incredibly high, remain just that...a place that you go to...not a place that you permanently occupy. It's no fun when you have to stay there. Don't treasure recreational drug use as the answer to your mundane problems, and don't put your faith in it, as there is no utopia waiting for you at the end of the party. I get the feeling there are some bad comedowns lying ahead for the buzzing generation.

What change?

'Change' has undeniably been the buzzword of this election campaign with Cameron, Clegg and Brown all professing to be the gate keeper of this metamorphosis. Since the expenses disgrace the electorate has been promised a transformation in how politics is done, and more importantly, a transformation in the form of politicians. But has the public seen any evidence of real change during this election campaign? Have you seen any genuine transformations in the nature of the political process? Have you shit. It has seemed like the same old same old to me, a spectacle of superficiality and spin.

The expenses scandal crystallised, for many people, thoughts they have always held about politician's; that they are deceptive, untrustworthy fucks, living in a different realm to the majority of the public. It's a pretty crude and general summation but a seemingly accurate one. Within the realms of possibility, could there have been a much worse revelation for the cause of the politician than that of a member of parliament spending tax payer money on the cleaning of his moat? I don't think so. It's fair to say that politicians have never been thought of as lowly as they are right now. And so the scene was set for 'change', a cleaning of the decks, an evolution in the process of British politics. From now on politicians would be sincere. Politicians would now be honest and true. Of course this change could not happen overnight but this election campaign, coming so soon after the expenses debacle, would give politicians an opportunity to display a uniform improvement....I'm still waiting for it.

There has been no change in the approach of politicians this time around. Here was a chance for politicians to walk away from the 'spin' nonsense which has plagued British politics for years. An opportunity to leave the vein concerns about image behind which preoccupies government workers and ultimately prevents them from getting the job done. A chance to get back to basics and focus upon policy, and be real people once again. However we have seen a continuation of the directed, cringe inducing circus that has become all too familiar. The same obviously coached body language and speaking techniques; the same phoney conversations with 'members' of the 'public'- who are in fact cherry picked party enthusiasts; the same cheesy smiles and forlorn hand shakes for the news reel.

The proliferation of 'spin' has not just been consigned to aesthetics during this campaign but rhetoric also. The country finds itself in an unfavourable position, fighting a war on two fronts, battling the worst international economy in decades and confronted with the all encompassing problem of global warming. It is a time which requires strong leadership and radical change in policy. However all one has heard, for not want of trying, is the same ear friendly but ultimately empty words, words of no significance, without depth or gravitas. Words which sound good but upon reflection don't actually say anything, uttered expertly up and down the country to plastic applause. One can listen and listen all day long, trying to derive the substantive messages in the words, trying to understand what the words leaving the mouths of these men and women mean in terms of future action, but it alludes. The various speeches sound as though they have been concocted in a consumer research farm somewhere, designed to achieve impact without revealing anything or upsetting anyone. Never ever has a strong, meaningful political message been delivered without upsetting somebody; isn't it amazing how the leaders of the three respective parties have managed to not do so thus far?

Just like before they squirm when asked a direct question. How come? Politicians are in the business of hegemony, convincing people that their ideas and opinions are the correct ones. Surely when a politician is asked a question, it is an opportunity to champion the merits of the party? Every interaction with an individual, especially a member of the public, is a chance to declare where the party stands on a particular issue, or at least it should be. As ever though, it seems the public address and the private thought of the politician are two very different things. The posibility of agitating a potential voter with the wrong answer is a risk not worth taking, so again, we've seen a perpetuation of cunning and ambiguity, traits synonymous with the previous epoch of politics that we are apparently departing from.

The surge in support for the Liberal Democrats indicates that the people of England are ready for change of some description. I thought Gordon Brown, the dour yet authentic scotsman, was going to be the icon of change and the one supported heavily in the polls in and around May. For it is he, more than any other politician, that embodies the substance over style formula that the country so desires. Or at least he was. His essential nature during this campaign has been anything but genuine. The labour party, more than any other, have been excessively concerned with the outward image of their leader. His appearances have been phoney and ingenuous throughout. I fear if he is to smile any harder his jaw will break. It begs the question, Why? Why Gordon? Why at a time when the nation is hankering for a man of substance to lead them, have you decided to put an artificial, undesirable mask on? His attempts to be warm, accessible and likeable are translucent and quite simply backward. His reform in response to criticisms from the media has alienated many, previously supportive potential voters, who see right through the facade. Has he completely forgotten why people liked him in the first place?

The 'Bigot' remark directed at that oh so nice woman from Rochdale is a perfect example of Brown's failure and hypocrisy. He declares to be this man of frankness and actuality, yet he is unable to tell a woman on the street that he thinks her views are slightly bigoted? Why was he unable to do this? Why did he feel the need to apologise for his opinion? The people of England want a leader that is straight forward and sincere, Brown has shown himself not be, not just in this instance but on various occasions on this campaign, and in doing so, he has completely compromised his character. Why oh why are these politicians so scared of being themselves?

The fact that around only 3o% of people who where eligible to vote last election did, suggests that politics needs change as much as the country does. The paltry turnout was not born out of disinterest or disengagement of the British public with politics, but out of distrust. Distrust of politicians and the political system. The British Public no longer identifies with politicians or their policies. They view politicians as contemptible liars. This could have, and should have, been amended during this campaign; or at least gone some way to do so. The shackles should have been off, with parties and politicians clambering to reveal who they really are, and what they stand for. Now was the time for real progression in this area. Instead we have had a tedious, if at times entertaining popularity contest. The same guarded men and women are evident as before, unable or unwilling to speak freely what is in their minds, professionals, conditioned by the political framework that they find themselves working within. If this election is to be remembered for anything, it should not be for the prospect of a hung parliament or the emergence of the Liberal Democrat Party. It should be remembered for the inability of the competing parties, and particularly Gordon Brown, to seize the opportunity to change how we do politics in this country for the foreseeable future.

People want sincerity.

The art of existence

Anybody that tells you life is a chore is an idiot. Of course life can be a 'bitch', as you may have read on a god awful t-shirt at some point. It can be sad and cruel, real fucking ugly sometimes, but there is so much richness also, to be embraced and experienced, if people would only look for it.

Some people are genuinely unable to enjoy life's riches to a degree because of circumstance; be it illness, poverty, or some other injustice. For the severely unfortunate, life can be extremely trying I imagine. Take Fritzl's daughter for example; now that is what you call a raw deal. However the vast majority of men and women don't have such problems to contend with. It seems to me that there are people who actively choose a life of drudgery. Plenty of folk accept mediocrity; or worse in some cases; making themselves content with a gritty, often foul tasting realism. I'm not saying that we all should pretend we're awoken by butterflies in the morning, or that the world is even a nice place. But circumstances must be contended with and I firmly believe there are opportunities for happiness all around us, there to be reached for.

'Life is what you make of it' is an old adage, with a large degree of truth to it if you ask me. I don't want this BLOG to resemble something penned by Dr Phil but sometimes you need to think about these old sayings and process them in order to appreciate the rhetoric. How can a person expect to find real happiness if they never go looking for it? Unless you live on the Cococabana of course (you'd be a fool not to be happy around all those big Brazillian arses). I look around here and I see a lot of frustrated faces; grotty teenage mums pushing prams about, labourers tired from long exhausting days, old people cursing themselves for not fulfilling dreams. I feel sorry for them man but they only have themselves to blame. They should have made more of an effort. I reckon that most people who are unhappy, which is a significant number, could lead rich, fulfilled lives, if they just tried harder to make themselves happy. For me its all about having the right mindset and being decisive, and not waiting for your real life to begin.

It may take a momentous effort to find happiness; an emigration say, or a bold professional leap. In other cases happiness may not be as far away as first anticipated. Either way, it needs to be seeked out. Happiness is not something that happens all by itself. It needs to be constantly worked for, and when found constantly worked at, attended to frequently like a pristine bowling green. People who stay put in bad circumstances make me want to flush my own head down the toilet. Why don't you just leave that dick of a boyfriend? Quit that shitty job? Move to that new city? Do what is required to make your life better and more enjoyable, don't just wait there like a fool for something or somebody to come and save you. Nine out of ten times it wont happen.

The prized cultural theorist Michele Foucault described an 'art of existence' in one of his final interviews, suggesting that life should be viewed as a canvas for the individual to paint upon. What an outlook. Living should be a creative process where each day is viewed as an opportunity to enjoy, and better oneself. Read that book, buy that jacket, take that course. It is important to try new things in order to develop as a person. Why not view your life as a work of art; get imaginative. Better than viewing your life as a battle for survival.

Life is too short to regularly do things that you don't want to, too short to spend time with people you don't like, too short to be someone you don't want to be. Too many people seem incapable, or unwilling, or even worse, scared to resist the lives that have been presented to them, often local lives of little meaning or significance. I realise that not all of us can be professional mavericks or social bonvivant's. Toilets are always going to need cleaning, buses will always need driving. I get that. But it seems people fall into the doldrum's without so much as a yelp. It's as though people get to a certain age and believe themselves to be powerless to change things. They miss the starting gun and give up.

In correlation with Foucault's positive thinking, Oscar Wilde spoke of the individual's ability to recreate himself, and of the possibilities of self creation. His writings suggest that people can basically become whatever they want; so long as they develop and apply themselves they can transgress. Good news for all you bin men out there. If life is indeed a chore at the moment make it not so, because it doesn't have to be. Living is not something to be endured.

It may be that your endeavours turn out to be in vain, you may not succeed as you had hoped, your dreams may not come true. However there is definitely happiness to be found in pursuit. It may be a small change that enlightens you; the purchase of a camera; volunteering at a charity shop; the joining of a book club. If you feel seriously down trodden and think the world needs to change and not you, read into politics, become an activist, go protest. The possibilities are genuinely endless.

Don't be a passenger in your own life and let fine experiences pass you by because you don't feel your 'such' a type of person to do 'it', or that 'something' isn't 'you'. All instincts and inclinations should be seriously considered. Why not take some time to think about what it is that is going to make you happy? Then act accordingly. I guess its a question of whether you are content with your life. But if your reading this and it sounds painfully familiar, to the point where tears are making the letters on your keyboard stick together...well then I feel sorry for you. You must realise that currently you are not living at all, you are merely existing.

Jimmy Carr is a fraudulent cock

Let me tell you why, upon reflection, I wouldn't wipe my arse with Jimmy Carr. Let it be known why I find him to be one of the most overrated, repugnant personalities to have ever occupied my television screen. Here we have a comedian who professes to champion 'edgy' comedy. A comedian who proclaims to push the boundaries with his stand up routines, to be a distinctive artist in his chosen field. He'd like you to think that he is a liberal, laid back, 'hip' person; an interesting character. Surely, anyone famous, who says such offensive, politically incorrect thing's must be, right? Wrong. Jimmy Carr is the most boring, tedious, fraudulent character in the history of stand up comedy. The man has absolutely no substance.

Lets start with his routines. He gets up on stage and spews out a series of rehearsed insults and cheap one liners at the audience. It is repetitive, spiritless shit. Any person with a half creative persuasion and a degree of confidence could write and deliver this drivel. His anecdotes are formulaic and crude, most of his subject matter would be considered immature for high schoolers. His observations are obvious, his tone is annoying, and most of his puns are suspiciously familiar.

Not in my life time but lets just say, these jokes that he tells, hypothetically, you found some of them funny. Do you think they have anything to do with Jimmy Carr's actual life? Do you feel that they reflect this man's existence at all? Of course they don't. I wouldn't be surprised if Carr secretly trawls the country in disguise, sitting in pubs with a pen and paper (and a black current the boring cunt), stealing these puns from other people.

The man is so separated from his comedy its startling. His material is undoubtedly offensive; his joke about the dead soldiers in Iraq testifies this point. But do you think Jimmy Carr is an offensive person? Is he fuck. I don't think the man could offend a troop of Saint Spyridon nun's with his most 'outrageous' personal story. If Carr was actually a chauvanist, or actually a sexist, or actually a racist, as his jokes would suggest, I would have more respect for him. Not because I would be appreciating the sentiment in his material, but at least he would be getting up on stage and presenting himself, and would be displaying some degree of actuality. The man that stands before you is a con, a mere shell of a person who alludes to being something but is actually not that at all. I wouldn't be surprised if he got up in the morning, looked in the mirror and didn't recognise his own face. Then again, could anyone really fail to identify those stupid eyebrows and ridiculously fat cheeks?

From a stand-up comedian you want truth. You want the man or woman on stage to bear their soul, their inner most thoughts. You want to hear their perspective on the world. I get the feeling that Jimmy Carr would say anything to get a laugh. Richard Pryor, Stewart Lee, Bill Hicks; great comedians who have had something substantive and truthful to share, who have illuminated their audiences with personal stories, grand ideas and enlightening insights...and then you have Jimmy Carr; "Gypsy's smell." What a wanker.

From what I can deduct, the problem is that Jimmy Carr has nothing to actually bear. His take on the world is completely rational and conservative, lacking any real colour or quintessence, and therefore if he was to get up and tell us his truth, we would all be pretty unimpressed. I've seen him interviewed on a variety of talk shows, it's all shallow quips and regurgitation's of his on stage material. The man has nothing to actually say. So what the jug eared prick does is hide behind a comedy facade; immature, removed from real life jokes, that are technically sound, but lack any authenticity or intellectual value. The degree of the man's success in our country and across the pond expertly demonstrates how low intellectual awareness has fell both here and their. Critics have actually given this fella five star ratings. Now that is offensive.

Lets hope that one day Jimmy Carr actually finds his real identity and realises that he is a charlatan, that he has been all along, and retires to an arm chair, reading the daily mail and combing his ponsey hair in between tightening the strings on his tennis racket. He best do so soon before everybody realises what a fundamentally limited fuckhead he actually is.

The curious nature of 'Mother Nature'

People in general need to stop referring to 'Mother Nature' as though she is some forlorn, incontnent grandmother who can no longer look after herself. For 'Mother Nature' is in fact an irrepressible, impervious entity, without regard for the concern, or the non-concern, of humans for her.

If nature is indeed a 'Mother' at all, she is an aloof parent, unimpressed with and uninterested in the behaviours of her narcissistic children. The title 'Mother Nature' assumes that this planet's natural physical system actually cares about us, that Earth itself has a paternal instinct to accommodate humans and make sure we're okay. Why would this be so? I wonder if the dinosaurs thought the same?

Nature shouldn't be romanticised. Chirping Blackbirds in your back garden or Wild Oryx running in the Serengeti, as lovely as they are, do not represent nature. Nature is cold and callous and unforgiving. Not to be trifled with. Nature shouldn't be thought of as an old generous friend either. Spuds weren't put in the ground with you in mind. An apple tree, a mountain, a dairy cow or any other organism which may provide you with nutrients or shelter is not a personification of nature either, not inserted by mother herself for your benefit. 'Mother Nature', is a term best used to describe the way of the universe and all its phenomona. 'She' is a complex labyrinth who transcends the material world and exists largely independent of human activity. Yes, we are a part of nature, as is the apple tree and the Wild Oryx, but 'Mother Nature' is over and above all individual things, and doesn't give a fuck about you to put it frankly.

Nature, or 'Mother Nature' for want of a better analogy, is an absolute and unwavering physical force, with no predetermined or comprehensible path. 'She' is not the boundless provider of the homosapien or the puppet master conducting the show. However nature has indeed been good to humans, it does and always has provided us with the resources to survive. However to think that this is some intentional circumstance, bestowed eternally upon us would be perverted. When humans are no longer aligned with Earth's disposition, 'Mother Nature' will not be sentimental. We will be decimated, removed like a paralytically drunk teenager in a night club. Unless we find some means of self sufficiency of course-but I cant see that happening, given that millions of humans die annually from poverty and famine in an amply provided for world.

So given that nature is so mighty, when nature's 'delicateness' is described I find it peculiar. The word of most activists would have you think that nature is fragile. It isn't. What is fragile, are the current natural conditions on Earth which are preferential to man; the temperate climate; the abundance of water; the high levels of natural resources such as vegetation, wood and gas etc. All the things which allow for a comfortable human existence are extremely fragile and susceptible to change and it seems human beings are doing their upmost to do just that.

Man is having a good run on Earth. It seems he is having his way at the moment. His achievements in technology and science, his manipulation of nature in general has made him feel strong. But just like a drug lord controlling his territory, full of his own self importance and believing his own impenetrability, a time will come when circumstances are no longer preferable for him, when conditions become out of his control and overcome the bastard. For it is natures law that nothing lasts for ever; except seemingly nature itself.

It cannot be denied that the actions of humans are influencing natures course. Man's evolution and subsequent intelligence has enabled him to do so, but how he has misused his capabilities. Mass deforestation, the plundering of the planet for materials, the pollution of Earth's atmosphere; all very deplorable and so stupid that it may make you question Darwin's evolutionary theory in the first place. Those who do not recognise man's mistreatment of nature are dangerously deluded. Those who do not see environmental harmony on Earth for as long as worldly possible, as a priority of man, are terribly mistaken. For it is in man's best interests to remain on good terms with 'Mother Nature'. Man should be placating her, accomodating her in every possible way, doing his upmost to secure her favourable services for as long as is attainable. Not the opposite. The way in which man continues to sabotage his nigh on perfect environment, given the great knowledge that he possesses, is bordering on insane.

The irony of it all is that 'Mother Nature' does not care. Not about any of it. Passionate, if fantastical, green lobbyers speak of retribution and vengeance in store for humans, but this is just a fallacy. 'Mother Nature' does not care about the melting ice caps, or dying Polar bears, the levels of CO2 which could eventually suffocate humans, or the rising sea levels which could eventually drown us. 'She' doesn't care whether the land is covered in grass or sea in the future, or sulphuric dust; or little pink frogs riding around on tricycles for that matter. 'She' just continues unperturbed, moving forward, trudging along as she always has.

For 'Mother Nature' is not a thoughtful, conscious being, with regard for the creatures 'She' has wielded. When the day of reckoning comes for man, his triumphs and achievements as well as his mistakes and misgivings will vanquish into orbit just like any of his physical elements, and 'Mother Nature' will not smile or cry or stand still, she will just continue as though we were never here.

An alternative, yet still productive, to do list...

1. Turn alarm clock onto radio alert, as opposed to war time siren mode.
2. Write abusive letter to the grey haired shitfuck of a bus driver at ARRIVA who arrived 5 minutes early last Tuesday when I was 20 yards from the stop. Prick.
   
3. Refrain from staying up ridiculously late for no reason at all.
4. Buy some edible, perhaps even imaginative cereal, as opposed to the dusty fuck flakes currently residing in the cupboard.
5. Tie Alan Titschmarsh's shoe laces together...if only in the mind.
6. Dream some more of travelling around Europe living on berries and stolen bread.
7. Commence the growing of a moustache, not a pretentious one, but a 1980'sesque, square working class one.
8. Ask that lovely waitress out.
9. Clean that drawer which has been dishevelled and disorganised for far too long. Feel satisfied.
10. Write a poem.
11. Head butt obnoxious, staggeringly judgemental local shopkeeper.
12. Buy some batteries.
13. Take all those pennies to the machine in the front of ASDA; collect £7.37.
14. Go and look for a dog down at the RSPA; take home a weathered but charismatic old fella.
15. Finally get round to polishing those shoes and restore them to their former glory.
16. Buy a Daim bar.
17. Book a flight headed for Biarritz in the summer.
18. Reflect upon a subtly pleasing week.

Things I hate...

I hate many things. I hate it when a pen runs out and it doesn't get thrown in the bin. I hate goatees. I hate liars. People who lie about what they have, what they don't have, about things they've done and things they haven't done. I hate falseness in general. I hate shit telly; cooking shows with boring ass chefs, 'Cash in the Attic' especially, where people sell all their cool stuff for like £600, and rubbish quiz shows with easy questions and presenters with impossibly white teeth. Some times its okay though. I hate it when things that should work don't; computers, toasters, pencil sharpeners. These small failures irritate me something terrible. I hate it when buses come early (they come early more frequently than you would think) and I really hate it when people are late and make me wait (although it must be stated that I'm the late one most of the time). I hate baths that are too hot, bad breath, especially turkey breath, and when my pint is pulled without a head. I hate it when Liverpool lose and Manchester United win, but I hate the fact I'm meant to hate people from Manchester? I hate Christian Evangelists. They scare me a hell of a lot. I hate all religious extremists for that matter. I consider religious people to be mentally ill to some degree.

I hate racism, its just completely dumb and archaic. I hate cheap profiteroles. I hate microwaved meals and tinned sweetcorn. People are lazy man. I hate biting my lip, literally and figuratively, ill fitting suites and rudeness. I hate people who profess to have a passion for something, but actually enjoy the image associated with said thing, more than the thing itself. I hate followers. Followers of trends, scenes, fashions. Unless they really have a love for the trends that they're following of course. This isn't usually the case though. I hate standing on plugs. I hate the fact that I still avoid standing on cracks in the pavement. I'm 22 and not superstitious at all, why do I still do this? I hate Uri Gellar, Benny Hinn and Richard Littlejohn. I also hate Ben Fogel, the big, smug prick. Although my mum tells me he's actually alright on Countryfile.

I hate it that people think its cool not to read. They cannot be for real, can they? I hate politicians that lie all the time. I hate boring girls that have no interests and wear too much make-up. Why do they think it is attractive to be stupid? It really isn't. I hate unambitious, unadventurous people. I hate people who make judgements without finding out for themselves. I hate narrow mindedness. I hate it when people are tight, and people who are negative...all the time. I hate shaved eyebrows on men, and when people wear glasses and don't medically need them. Whats that all about? I hate pretentiousness. I also hate overly branded clothing, especially the Louis Vitton pattern. Revolting. I hate Abercrombie and Fitch, All Saints and Cult. Terrible clothing outlets. However I simultaneously hate that people judge others based on the clothes they wear. Very superficial. I hate it when people say that Eastenders is better than Coronation Street.

I hate it that traffic wardens operate on commission, that John Lennon died when he did, and dust. Dust makes me sneeze. I hate that the majority of people don't care about stuff like politics, history or the environment, but they really care about something their sisters boyfriend may or may not have said about them last week. I hate it when old people think they're right because they're older. Older definitely doesn't mean wiser. I hate it when the timetable at the bus stop has been defaced, or completely removed for that matter. I hate it when fungus has grown on a perfectly good looking block of cheese and men who own big horrible dogs. Just because your dog is hard doesn't mean you are mate. I hate silver service. I hate formalities. I hate the fact that there are no answers in life; just questions. However I love this mysteriousness in equal measure. I hate wasting time, I hate hamsters, I hate onions. I hate it when people get on the train without first letting you off. Wankers. I hate it when liberals are so left with their ideas that they are no longer in the real world. I hate corruption. I hate war. I hate corrupt war. Is there any other kind though? I hate the thought of spiders crawling up my leg when I' in bed. I hate the way I always misplace train tickets, and keys. Argh, I hate so many things.

But most of all, more than anything else, I hate the fact I have to die one day, and that I wont be able to hate anything anymore.

An interesting proposition...

I recently purchased the North West edition of 'The Loot', a regional advertising weekly, in search of a potential flat or house tenancy. Innocent enough. Upon reading I became increasingly suspicious of a particular sector marketing in the publication. Adverts for massage parlours were large, numerous and of a markedly sexual orientation. You needn't be a genius to make the obvious associations here.

Perhaps if I quoted some of the rhetoric featured in these ads, you may better understand my astonishment. 'Cheshire Catz, under new management. We look forward to getting our claws into you!'; 'Pussycats Massage Parlour...Discreet rear entrance, free parking'; 'Bailey's of Rochdale...three lovely ladies available daily....Adult DVD's and Dance Pole on premises'. Now forgive my facetiousness but what could a dance pole possibly have to do with holistic therapy? I don't remember Stavros down the old Greek Baths requiring any metallic poles for his routine? Thats because Stavros was offering massages and not fellatio, or any other services which intend to arouse the penis.

The overtness of these marketing campaigns are quite incredible. The sexual innuendo involved is blatant, the visuals which accompany them scandalous. One parlour's advert features a woman grabbing her own tit. I mean come on!? Some of the lesser established 'masseurs' are freelance, women evidently offering an independent, mobile service. Their marketing approach is even less subtle. Take an add I found this week in the Personals section of the 'Buy and Sell' (you may note I expanded my research here); 'LADY 4 in/out calls. 07500*****0'. 'LADY', doesn't even specify any professional service here, remarkable.

Many suggest that the Police come in for too much flak, that they have a difficult job to do, but I have to disagree in some respects. Given, they face a difficult task in policing the mischievous and sometimes deranged inhabitants of our odd little country. However glaring opportunities for criminal investigation, such as this, make me wonder what the CID actually do all day? All of the mobile 'masseurs' leave their phone numbers for fuck's sake, has nobody down the Metropolitan HQ seen an episode of The Wire? The Force are either gravely out of touch with the real world or some high commissioner of the Vice Squad is getting his palm greased handsomely. Either way, its pretty awful Police work.

The whole episode provokes broader questions for me, notably; why the hell do they not just legalise prostitution? We all know that it goes on, and will go on, regardless of the laws. Where there are old/ugly/socially inept men with erections, there will be prostitutes. Each year that passes without a relaxation of the laws, I scratch my head that little bit harder. What exactly are the cons' of this argument again? Legalising prostitution would bring in a much needed source of revenue for the taxman and simultaneously drive the heinous criminals out of the trade, who in many cases enslave their female workers. Legalisation would also serve to humanise the sex workers, and help them to shake off problematic domestic circumstances which seem to accompany illegal prostitution, such as drug and physical abuse. And without intending to ram the point home, legalisation would make the trade cleaner, as any prospective worker would have to comply with health regulations. Win, win, win.

However, as per usual, our government moves slow on the issue, unlike our American, and many of our European counterparts, where you can get a hand job in a major city as easy as you could find a bicycle pump. It would probably be easier actually. The prudish stiffs in Westminster are still living in an idealised time where sex is the domain of the courted and young people should go out and get an honest trade. Wake up and smell the 'essential' oils!

Here, prostitution remains confined to classified ad magazines (or should I say unclassified ad magazines?) under secretive guises (or should I say remarkably non secretive guises?). This facade cannot go on for much longer. Perhaps I should take Gordon Brown and his cabinet down to 'Cheshire Catz' myself, see if I can open their eyes for them, show them what is going on here. I wonder if the trip would have an adverse effect on Mr Brown's career though? Well Of course it would, bystanders would see their Prime Minister leaving a fucking brothel.