How to bottle things up inside (part 2)
Sunday 21 August 2011, 1.39pm HKT
YESTERDAY had been one almighty bad-hair day for me. I wear a ponytail, so you can imagine. Don’t argue — it really was bad.
* * *
Pushin’ n’ shovin’ n’ sweatin’ n’ yellin’
n’ payin’ through ya’nose
I get one life, and one life is all I get in this world. It’s not the life I paid for, but it’s a little late now to do anything about it, short of a drastic Subscription Termination to Life. I’m crazy, but not that crazy.
Ever tried walking through a sea of people in a 33-degree heatwave? With car exhaust thick as overnight leftover vomit hitting you in the face? And noises assaulting your ears 360°? You’d want to beat the living daylights out of anyone who daringly suggests there MIGHT be no global warming. You’d seriously — very seriously — be tempted to stick that ice lolly straight into someone’s eye socket and watch the victim die very slowly and painfully so that victim may understand that not wearing your favourite colour today was a sin.
Hannibal Lector or Michael Meyers or Jason Vorhees doesn’t even come close to the mild psychopathic tendencies I was having yesterday.
And if you had to pay $56 (US$7.18) for 200 grammes (7 ounces) of shite-rate German brawn (that’s jellied meats), or $14 (US$1.79) for a 750cc bottle of warm fizzy mineral water, you can forgive me for wanting to bring out my pair of blackwood nunchakus and beat the guts out of nicely behaved little children while their analogously badly behaved parents look on (if they’re paying any goddam attention in the first place). In broad daylight. Whilst wearing a fluorescent yellow sports jersey and mottled, off-white, summerweight cowboy boots, lovingly made in Texas.
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Taking it out on innocent parties
There being no other business on the agenda, I move to proceed to the rant and unjustified fingerpointing.
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Any Texans out there reading this? Yes, yes, I know, your average temperature statewide is 92°F today and you’ve got muggy humidity and all that. But y’all don’t have as many pee’pl as we do — and if you had that many, your state is ginormous so they ain’t packed like
sardines beans in burritos like we do here. So you fine folks can shut yer gob ovah thar. My Neville Chamberlainesque reply: you’ve never had it so good.
Get out the coldbeer (that’s correct Texan English) and bring out your concealeds (that’s short for ‘concealed weapons’ for you gormless, gun-controlled countries) and pick off a couple of closet vegans or closet teetotallers.
I wear genuine Texas- and Tennessee-made cowboy boots since the age of 12, but mostly I have the greatest respect for your General Robert E. Lee (plus getting hit with Robert E. Lee jokes for most of my life), so ahm ent-tye-tuhl’d to single out Texans for MY bad behaviour today. Shoot me. Bring out your concealed — see if I care, mister.
* * *
United Kingdom! You can shut your gob over there too! Your riots were bad — we saw them on TV — we feel for you — but it’s your own damn fault. Quit whining and whinging. We’re still furious with you for ditching us back in 1997.
You let in fundamentally brain-damaged religionfags into your country instead of taking in fundamentally greedy Hongkongers who can help you corner the whole EU economy. You forgot how to build empires. Your loss. Nuff said.
You’ve still got your UB40’s (unemployment relief) and your NHS (free healthcare) and your basically unarmed (but unbrained) constabularies (police).
But your entire education system runs on the criminally overpriced tuition fees that you forcibly extract from international students whilst not even paying the common courtesy of furnishing them (or your own selves) with mind-numbing Latin and classical Greek lessons or your perverse (and perverted) English History lessons about how Richard III was more evil than Lord Darth Vader.
Your maths still suck. Worse, your French suck despite being only 30 miles away from France itself and your kings and queens have more French blood in them than most Frenchmen have.
You, too, United Kaaalingdom, have never had it so good, but you totalled your country for no good reason:
- allowed Wimpy (the burger joint with ‘table service’) to practically go out of business by the 1980s
- ‘corporatised’ all your pirate radio stations
- denatured or otherwise castrated all your Teddy Boys and flower-power hippies
- hair-transplanted your skinheads
- blinged-up your Mods
- besuited your punks
- disco-ised your New Wavers
- desensitised your emos and goths
- gentrified your Cockney and East End Londoners by turning their turf into Canary Wharf and other assorted banker fiefdoms
- educated your nice English country girls and scene girls to become Sex and the City bitch-sluts instead of the endearingly traditional English ‘scrubba’ whore-sluts much loved by all anglophiles
- make everybody want to be bleeding New Yorkers
- have no Britrock anymore — they’re all bleeding indies who all sing off-key
- defringed (or mainstreamised) your NF into the BNP
- americanised your centuries-old infantry regiments
- allowed straight people into the Royal Navy
- trained the RAF in American style so it now only knows how to bomb friendlies
- allowed non-hooligans into the Royal Marines and the Parachute Regiment, so bovver boys now run amok in the streets, setting fire to old ladies and create riots in several cities
- let Swann & Edgar (the department store in Piccadilly Circus) liquidate in 1975 and turn into HMV (or something) and that’s seriously unforgivable
- let Bourne & Hollingsworth in Oxford Street turn into a cheapo shopping mall
- let Dickins & Jones in Regent Street to fail into oblivion
- turned Café Royale into a bling-bling contest venue
- broke up your wonderfully late and obtuse British Rail into dozens of wonderfully late and obtuse independent rail services so no one knows where to get tickets anymore
- done ‘f.a.’ for Sheffield, Newcastle-upon-Tyne and Tyne and Wear
- incorporated the former county of Westmorland into Cumbria without asking our say-so
- your feudal-sounding quarter sessions and assizes are no more, but your Crown Court couldn’t even hold a dim light to the TV series of the same name
- shambolised your education system by ditching GCE O- and A-levels and replacing them with crap GCSEs, NVQs or whatever the shite you have there now
- you’ve dissed your polytechnics by turning them into universities
- you still haven’t cleaned your Tube!
- your Oystercard is hopelessly out of date before it even came out
- you’ve practically sacked all your bus conductors of Indian and Pakistani extraction so we can’t make fun of them anymore, and bus conductors nowadays don’t know how to answer back viciously (like the Indian/Pakistani conductors could) without causing a riot in the process
- you binned all our favourite London buses (the ones with the open back ends) and replaced them with petrol-pissing new models with mediaeval-looking automatic doors that are shite and dangerous for little old ladies and rowdy drunken hooligans
- screwed up the House of Lords so badly that your aristocrats all want to be CIA operatives based in New York City or L.A.
- you’ve binned us in 1997 whilst leaving 3½ million of us still holding British-of-a-kind passports
I’m from a little place called Great Britain,
But I don’t know if I love or hate Britain,
These words upon my page written
Are things that make and break Britain.
(Chorus, “Great Britain,” by Dan Le Sac vs. Scroobius Pip)
I know so — I grew up in your flaming country too. I’m more English than your Englishmen and more Scottish than your Scotsmen.
I’ve no beef with Irishmen (because green is one of my favourite ink colours).
I’m head over heels with the Welsh mainly because they’ve given me wonderful phrases like “that’s tidy, that” and “I accidentally the whole bottle” with its oh-so-subtle missing verb that’s literally decades before those phrases became popular on the Internet. So bloody there.
Quit mucking around and fix your bleeding country for five minutes at least. If you can’t do that, dig Chamberlain, Churchill, Teddy Heath and Harold Wilson out of their graves — they can’t do any worse than this Cameron-Clegg personage. You’ve had John Major, Tony Blair and Gordon Brown having done more damage back-to-back than the Luftwaffe had ever hoped to do, and you’ve got brain-damaged politicos ‘doing in’ the remaining bits. Srsly, this is serious business.
And your BBC World Service makes Disneyland look like a serious source of news.
Oh, the riots? Sayonara to the Olympics, baby!
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You’d better run for cover too
Australia: You can thank your lucky stars I’m letting you off, solely and exclusively on the strength of your country having people like D.G. Mattichak Jr, who is one of my favourite bloggers/commenters.
Communist/socialist countries: Take notes from Bear Grylls. Learn to drink your own orificial fluids. The Free World is in a deep fix right now, they’re already drinking their own, thank you very much, so they can’t spare any for you yourselves for a few more years. Cope on your own, please.
Middle East: Stop squabbling, children! You’re running out of food and water. Put your energy instead into finding a food-and-water solution. Or go back to eating dust. Your choice. Choose wisely. Derp.
Rest of the world: GO BIG, OR GO HOME! Have more bearing before you come back. Stop sucking up to these bankers. It’s your money! If they want YOUR money, YOU call the shots! What are you, chopped liver???
© The Naked Listener’s Weblog, 2011.
Amended 22 Aug 2011 (fixes to typos, etc).
Updated 15 Oct 2011 (link fixes).