Modern Life Is Rubbish

As the poor weather continues in our beautiful summertime this surely is a metaphor for the Great British economy. We are facing more cuts than a night out in Manchester while taxes on our beloved ale goes up and up because some hicks from a land that bought us ‘spray on cheese’ and ‘pig hoof bobbing’ America managed to get the most insane mortgages this side of Uzbekistan! If they want some cuts bring the bloody troops home! The money the government spends on painting our tanks in a sand colour can be spent on looking after injured troops on their return, we are only going to have to spend money on painting them green again, two words in Europe; ‘leopard and spots’. As a gloomy cloud hangs over Dover, it is like Mother Nature is French; she wants to kick us when we are down. The Tories are slicing through Labours’ mess after Labour threw money at the Tories mess, who were cleaning up after Labours, do you see a pattern here? It is all the same, the majority of our politicians are in it to make their second homes bigger not to serve the Country like us beautiful landlords and ladies. It now turns out that our jolly councillors (remember they work for us) have decided to hike the pub licence fees, when I say hike I mean make them soar like Concorde. With this in mind it could be the straw that broke the camels back and the end of many Pubs and Bars could well be in sight. Mr Cameron would like to make even more cash for Mr Tesco and Mr Cowell while we drink lager out of a tin and contemplate if Britain really does have talent, (it doesn’t) still, it could be worse- Clegg could be in charge!

  The other day it was quiet in the boozer so I left it with my very capable Australian bar staff and went in to town to get some cheap Vodka. On my way to Netto I noticed that I was being followed by CCTV the whole way down there. Back when I were a Nipper, 1984 was a date in the very distant future and now it is very much in the past it seems like we actually live in Orwell’s nightmarish book. I mean you can’t eat, sleep drink, smoke or even fart without someone having a say in it. I mean what the hell has it got to do with the Nanny State? The State has our blood type, national insurance, credit rating, bank account, criminal record, dental record and doctor’s record all on a file so they can pretend to be looking after us. We grew up with people like Humphrey Bogart and Clint Eastwood drinking and smoking and living off burgers in films. No one told them they were going to get lung cancer, liver sclerosis or die of obesity. Back then men were men and the state got the hell out of their way. I mean, the other day I was reading the paper about the delightful economy, and it was jabbering on about how we are going to cost the government millions because we are living too long, the next day we are all going to die young of obesity, which one is it? Do you want me to be healthy and live till I am 100 or do you want me to eat a meat pie and explode aged 54! It’s all you can’t do this, you can’t do that now days They’re even telling us to examine ourselves for ailments, you now check yourself for testicular cancer, I like to do that on the train but I keep getting funny looks. It’s the same with smoking; the ban has brought pubs to their knees, and previously respectable members of society standing outside in the rain looking like cold, wet addicts. Soon enough you won’t be able to smoke anywhere, except for The Isle of Sheppy in a glass hut where you have to register yourself as an addict while young social workers beat you with a stick.

  On my way into town I crossed over at the traffic lights and saw one of those huge 4 by 4’s parked up at a traffic light, in the rear window I noticed one of those bloody ‘Baby on Board’ signs. I mean how ridiculous do you have to be to have one of those? I saw it and I was thinking ‘God it is lucky that I am not driving because I would have ploughed in to the car, but now I know the messiah is in there I’ll leave it!’ Actually come to think of it, we should be constantly updated as to where the baby is at all times, ‘Baby at Auntie Jeans’, ‘baby sleeping, shh’ if we know this we can adjust our driving accordingly.      

Mr Cameron would like us to stay in more and watch TV this means we can be safe in our homes (unless a burglar comes in, you have to let him steal your things, it’s all part of the big society) surely we can sit and watch some good old fashion entertainment. You’d think so wouldn’t you? Unless you’re brain dead I wouldn’t bother. If you want to see people who are too embarrassed to go to a doctor, but are more than happy to show their horrific lump sticking out of their foot to millions then feel free to watch Channel 4’s ‘Embarrassing bodies’, I can hear Churchill turning in his grave! Or failing that you can watch a six year old lad who is on 20 cigarettes a day, 16 year old mums getting drunk and our troops getting shot at because Mr Blair wanted some more oil!(all BBC3) So failing this tripe you can get watch some culture with a good old fashion cookery show. How about ‘Come dine with me’ this show goes under the pretence of being an educational cookery show, if this is the case then Only Fools and Horses was about four single (ageing) girls who live in New York and have promiscuous sex with GAP models. If you are not depressed enough there is always BBC news 24 which is the same as being repeatedly punched in the face by David Haye, eventually you zone out, glaze over and question yourself. You could always turn over to ITV’s coverage of the FA Cup and see clunky, slow cameras missing the action; looking at relatively good looking girls in the crowd and then as something interesting finally happens the action will be cut short to an ad-break.

  When I returned from my shopping trip I flicked on the box and found the worse program I have ever seen, it was not  Jeremy Kyle, loose (evil) women, it was much, much worse it is called ‘My super sweet 16’ and this show is a borderline recruitment film for Al-Qaeda. Initially it comes across as a sugar coated reality T.V show that shows Moms and Pops (back off America) treating their off-spring to a day of fun. However the spoilt little brats seem to get everything they want while their parents bow down to little Tabitha’s every whim. The run up to the part shows little Tabitha inviting her dribbling cretins (guests) who are so painfully thick they use ‘party’ as a verb normally in the sentence “I like to party” When I am in power it will be people like that I come down upon heavily. It will be them, men who wear trilbies, people who wear Led Zepplin T-shirts but don’t know a song by them, Arsenal fans and Damon Albarn. I am not to sure why I want to harm Damon Albarn; maybe I am drunk with power! Anyway I digress, this particular episode Tabitha’s day was ruined by her Mom (seriously) for buying her a £67,000 Lexus and presenting it to her a couple of days before the party. Tabitha cancelled the party. After watching that show, I quickly fell to my knees and prayed for a nuclear holocaust. In summary Modern life is rubbish.