Hey!!, Look over there!!!! (and other stories)

Ways of telling the country is in the toilet, Number 38. Royal Wedding.


Yes folks ignore the fact that we make fuck all in this country (apart from racing cars, the UK is the best in the world at that, which is why all but 3 F1 teams have their bases here, but a few hundred hi-tech sales a year does not an economy make), and that in a service economy (we are a nation of bankers, insurers, lawyers and call centres...essentially parasites), when people start having less need of those services, or can source them cheaper elsewhere, as may for instance happen in a financial downturn, leaves, you, in the words of the great economist Adam Smith "well fuckered".
Never mind that......who's gonna design this bint's dress, eh? That's what the people want to know. The perfect solution would be a fucking reality show [1]....Britain's next overpriced wedding dress designer or something......with any luck John Sergeant will enter and the protest vote will see the vacuous cow getting married in a binliner.


In other news, the DSS have informed me that apparently I've not paid any National Insurance in the last 4 years, which is interersting, cos my former employer (that would be Telepestilence UK), apparently never bothered handing it over.....payslips all show the deduction, DSS don't. So no Jobseekers for me, and a whole shitload of horrid forms to try and apply for anything else to live on.

I now spend most days basically wondering what horror shall befall me next......this morning it was trying to throw up on an empty stomach.....always a good way to spend a few minutes I find.

The universe chooses to crush some people under an immense weight of shit, cancer, Aids, sick kids, hunger, true poverty......and  I try never to forget that compared to these poor souls, I am lucky, I am healthy and I am rich..........but for me on the other hand....instead of the bug squash......with me, there is more of a game of buckaroo going on.......tiny little things, each nothing on it's own, being placed on my back at regular intervals, until....well the donkey in Buckaroo would kick, but it's more likely I'll snap in half and if I survive at all, it will be rocking back and forth, dribbling in silence.



Found out last night that a godtard defriended my wee sister on account of my rabid gibberings (and amusing profile pics)....LOL.....talk about insecurity in your own delusions....."oooooooh, someone you know is all rational and doesn't believe in my sacred sky fairy.....I...I can feeeeel.....an original...thought....no...must resist.....reason...noooooooooo......RUN AWAYYYYYYYYYYY"
Always amuses the fuck out of me that these fuckin inbreeds who do their best to destroy all reason and learning and science, are hypocritical enough to use a computer......the principles of semi conductor logic circuits are not IN any holy book.....SO YOU CUNTS DON'T GET TO USE THEM!!! (at least if you're remotely serious about your mental illn....sorry , religion)

I'd love places like hospitals to have two lanes like at the airport customs gate....."rationals" and "believers".  Go down the rational channels, someone will tend your wounds, xray and CT scan you if necessary and apply whichever drug and or surgical treatment may best apply. If you go down the believers channel, someone will pray for you as you die (they may also, believing themselves to be the very epitome of compassion) rub any open wounds you have with a filthy cloth, having no understanding of germs. After the last rights I will make sure they hear the phrase "how ironic that you now serve the very evolution you refute".








[1] The very name is hilarious and demonstrates that most people lost touch with reality years ago.......perhaps even YOU dear reader......ask yourself when the last time was that you saw a shot from behind the door of the host being greeted by a surprised householder.....and didn't just let it go instead of a little voice thinking "wow, Noel Edmonds, I'd NO idea you were coming, because, you see, I often have two cameramen, a sound recordist, a lighting guy, 3 giggling PAs and a producer IN MY KITCHEN JUST IN CASE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Media types: sitting by the bedside of a family as they switch off their kid's life support and asking "can we just get that again, there was a bit of a rustle from the mic" Since 1950.