Reality Check.

The papers today say David Cameron should model himself on the "firm resolve" of Margaret Thatcher to get the economy going again. Just what we need: a sociopathic bourgeois philistine screwing over those who suffered because of the credit crunch to reward the rapacious bastards who caused it.

After The Injection

It's a shame Afghanistan doesn't export to the West stuff you can buy in the shops rather than stuff you can buy on the streets. Then it could invade whoever it wanted, kill whoever it wanted and jail whoever it wanted, like China.

Everybody tells me the West is hogtied in its response to the Tibetan holocaust or the jailing of human rights activists, not to mention the murder of mentally ill foreign nationals, because of China's economic power. We need it too much to hold it to account for the wrongs it is perpetrating. But when you consciously separate business from morality what do you have? The very opium trade that Western armies are trying to destroy in Afghanistan.

A Seasonal Wish

I may not make it back to the keyboard this side of Christmas so if I don't I hope you're all warmed by the love of your family & friends, not to mention a good working boiler, that everybody everywhere gets something filling to eat & that we remember the animals who've died & those who haven't, struggling to stay alive out there in the freezing cold.

It's Useful

in life to understand what your mistakes have been and to some extent, it's important to acknowledge them, especially if your mistakes have ended up hurting or offending others, as mine have. If they had an Olympic event centred around the inflicting of pain on your nearest and dearest, I would have won Gold several times running. But I know that. And I have said it quite a few times. I won't continue to play the penitent. I may have been a selfish, parasitical, spaced-out idiot at times, but I was never Fred West or Charles Manson.

I won't bathe up to the chin in remorse every day either. That's a peculiar form of egocentricity in itself, and the belief that the whole universe revolved around my thoughts and desires was what made me such a twat in the first place.

Christmas Approacheth

I found the Grosvenor Centre in Northampton really sinister this morning...all that insipid piped Xmas music and shoppers wandering around in the slightly dimmed light with absent expressions on their faces, constantly getting in the way of anyone walking at more than half a mile a week. Dawn of the Festive Dead, anyone?

Poem (Obviously)

brushing my long hair,
the brown ribbon
she tied into it last night
fell out, dropped
straight into my hand,
"what's that?!"

our love came in the same way
pretty much,
that famous,
cold st patrick's

Self-Pity

I told a man I know that his conversation was always centred around himself.

He took great umbrage at this and said: "I really want you to take that back. I don't think you have any idea what a low opinion of myself I have. I mean, as far as I'm concerned I'm nothing. A nobody. A complete twat. A heap of..."

"You're still talking about yourself, though, aren't you?" I said.

Self-pity is inverted egotism.