Let me just get this bit out the way first: David Cameron is a sly, filthy, lying, manipulative wanker. Just looking at the man makes me want to put my fist through the television.
So, after all the bullshit he shovelled out before the last election WHICH HE DIDN'T EVEN WIN, far from making anything better, he has made everything a lot fucking worse. He's like a reverse King Midas - everything he touches turns to shit; which is handy for him because he's full of it.
So, now he's telling us, I know I swore I would reduce net migration before the last election, and I know I haven't actually done a thing to try to keep that promise because I've been too busy making myself and all my posh bastard friends richer, but I promise that if you give me the opportunity to swindle my way into power again then I really will do something about it next time. I've already come up with some ideas, but they're all long term ones, so I need to be in power next time around or I won't be able to carry them out. I know I said "no ifs, no buts" and I told you to chuck us out at the next election if I didn't keep my promise on immigration, but this time I'm saying it for real: No ifs, no buts, I'll get net migration down, and if I don't then chuck us out at the next election. I mean it this time; this time it's for real.
What an utter tosser.
And James Worron casts aspersions on my character. Fucking hell. Although, he does support cunt-Cameron, so I shouldn't be surprised really. I guess twats will always gravitate towards each other. Yes, James Worron, I called you a twat. Gosh, so much hate on my part. I must have a very poor character to be that way. Well let me tell you, Worron: 1) wankers like you could never bring any kind of style back, let alone waistcoats - you have to have even the slightest atom of cred to do that; 2) You know absolutely nothing about me, so to jump onto something I said and judge me the way you did shows YOU are the one lacking character. Maybe if you'd ever had a girlfriend you might have developed one. AND YOUR MOTHER DOESN'T COUNT AS A GIRLFRIEND. NOR DOES YOUR DAD.
Worron, you tosser.
Friday, 28 November 2014
Hate
Who shall I hate today?
There are so many choices. One is a bloke on Twitter named Steve Clark, but I'm not going to give him any oxygen by talking about him on here. Suffice to say, he's a twat.
There's David Cameron, of course. Every day brings a new reason to hate that man. But I'm moving towards overkill on that subject so I'll give him a break today. Suffice to say, he's a twat as well.
I know - paedophiles.
As a victim of a paedophile myself, I hold a special chamber of hatred in my stomach just for them.
Even doctors are getting involved in kiddy-fiddling these days. That Myles Bradbury bloke - he was found with over 170,000 spy pen images in his possession.
He's a fucking doctor. He's in a position of ultimate trust; looked upon to help our children when they're ill. But it turns out he's a nonce; and our children are not even safe with him.
The punishment for a crime like his should be slow, and it should be brutal. First, full removal of all genitalia using an old butter knife with a rusty blade. To avoid too much blood-loss, a hot steam iron should be applied to cauterize the area. Finally, he should be dumped in a hole, seven feet deep, and four feet around. On top, there should be a sturdy door with just enough air-holes to keep him alive. He should not be given food or water. But once a day, a bucket full of human shit or piss should be dumped on him. Finally, when he eventually dies, simply fill the hole in and replace the door with a dance floor so everyone can dance on his grave.
Now, all of that might sound extreme and graphic; even disturbing. But go and have a man's penis shoved forcibly into your anus and then see how you feel afterwards.
Paedophilia is not an illness; it is an aberration.
There are so many choices. One is a bloke on Twitter named Steve Clark, but I'm not going to give him any oxygen by talking about him on here. Suffice to say, he's a twat.
There's David Cameron, of course. Every day brings a new reason to hate that man. But I'm moving towards overkill on that subject so I'll give him a break today. Suffice to say, he's a twat as well.
I know - paedophiles.
As a victim of a paedophile myself, I hold a special chamber of hatred in my stomach just for them.
Even doctors are getting involved in kiddy-fiddling these days. That Myles Bradbury bloke - he was found with over 170,000 spy pen images in his possession.
He's a fucking doctor. He's in a position of ultimate trust; looked upon to help our children when they're ill. But it turns out he's a nonce; and our children are not even safe with him.
The punishment for a crime like his should be slow, and it should be brutal. First, full removal of all genitalia using an old butter knife with a rusty blade. To avoid too much blood-loss, a hot steam iron should be applied to cauterize the area. Finally, he should be dumped in a hole, seven feet deep, and four feet around. On top, there should be a sturdy door with just enough air-holes to keep him alive. He should not be given food or water. But once a day, a bucket full of human shit or piss should be dumped on him. Finally, when he eventually dies, simply fill the hole in and replace the door with a dance floor so everyone can dance on his grave.
Now, all of that might sound extreme and graphic; even disturbing. But go and have a man's penis shoved forcibly into your anus and then see how you feel afterwards.
Paedophilia is not an illness; it is an aberration.
Ignorance is Bliss
It really is, you know. It must be, for so many people to wallow in it.
I've been verbally accosted by someone on Twitter tonight who actually quoted me - except he hadn't read my blog; he just assumed I'd said it. Strictly speaking, I could sue him for libel, but frankly, I can't be arsed. People like that just bore me. They actually make me feel physically tired. They're so desperate to be considered intellectual they'll just jump into any conversation, even if they don't have the slightest idea what's going on. They come along, trying to sound like the voice of reason, desperately cobbling together sound-bites they hope will sound intelligent.
The man who joined in on Twitter tonight is Alan O'Connor; an Irish Barber. He came along, trying to sound clever, mis-quoting me and generally displaying the level of ignorance you usually find in a brain-damaged hippo. And he's one of those desperate fuckwits who doggedly pursue the conversation and try to justify their fuckwittery while showing over and over again that they would be more suited to a tyre on a rope.
Why do people like that think they have the right to just jump in like that? What is it that supposedly makes these fuck-knuckles relevant?
James Warron's another one. He jumped in with an unwarranted comment about my character. He works in Government Relations, so obviously he was just desperate for attention. Perhaps jumping off a very tall building and landing on top of David Cameron, killing them both and putting the country out of its misery, would have been more appropriate. It's just a suggestion, that's all.
Well, it's getting late. I'm going to take my great big ball of hatred and go to bed. There, I'm going to think of new ways to hate people.
Goodnight all.
I've been verbally accosted by someone on Twitter tonight who actually quoted me - except he hadn't read my blog; he just assumed I'd said it. Strictly speaking, I could sue him for libel, but frankly, I can't be arsed. People like that just bore me. They actually make me feel physically tired. They're so desperate to be considered intellectual they'll just jump into any conversation, even if they don't have the slightest idea what's going on. They come along, trying to sound like the voice of reason, desperately cobbling together sound-bites they hope will sound intelligent.
The man who joined in on Twitter tonight is Alan O'Connor; an Irish Barber. He came along, trying to sound clever, mis-quoting me and generally displaying the level of ignorance you usually find in a brain-damaged hippo. And he's one of those desperate fuckwits who doggedly pursue the conversation and try to justify their fuckwittery while showing over and over again that they would be more suited to a tyre on a rope.
Why do people like that think they have the right to just jump in like that? What is it that supposedly makes these fuck-knuckles relevant?
James Warron's another one. He jumped in with an unwarranted comment about my character. He works in Government Relations, so obviously he was just desperate for attention. Perhaps jumping off a very tall building and landing on top of David Cameron, killing them both and putting the country out of its misery, would have been more appropriate. It's just a suggestion, that's all.
Well, it's getting late. I'm going to take my great big ball of hatred and go to bed. There, I'm going to think of new ways to hate people.
Goodnight all.
Thursday, 27 November 2014
The Worron Position
Wow!
I'm getting grief about my views and my prejudices from a Conservative. I can't believe it. James Worron has been criticising me on Twitter because I have certain prejudices. That's like Saddam Hussein telling Adolf Hitler he's a bit of a cunt.
Is there anywhere in the world a bunch of people more prejudiced and unpleasant than the Conservatives. And this bloke works in Government relations. So I have no doubt that he spends his day kissing the arses of rich people while looking down his nose at the rest of us.
Thinking about it; our country is led by the least among us. The least honest, the least moral and the least fair. This man works in relations for these people, so how low does that make him?
Joseph Goebbels did relations for the Nazis, and we all know how fair they were.
Perhaps Mr Worron has an inferiority complex since he spends his life not quite good enough to achieve the post of one of the people we all hate so much.
I'm amazed that my hatred is creating such a reaction. I'm also quite flattered. Also, to know that a Tory hates me is a good thing, since I hate them right back.
I'm getting grief about my views and my prejudices from a Conservative. I can't believe it. James Worron has been criticising me on Twitter because I have certain prejudices. That's like Saddam Hussein telling Adolf Hitler he's a bit of a cunt.
Is there anywhere in the world a bunch of people more prejudiced and unpleasant than the Conservatives. And this bloke works in Government relations. So I have no doubt that he spends his day kissing the arses of rich people while looking down his nose at the rest of us.
Thinking about it; our country is led by the least among us. The least honest, the least moral and the least fair. This man works in relations for these people, so how low does that make him?
Joseph Goebbels did relations for the Nazis, and we all know how fair they were.
Perhaps Mr Worron has an inferiority complex since he spends his life not quite good enough to achieve the post of one of the people we all hate so much.
I'm amazed that my hatred is creating such a reaction. I'm also quite flattered. Also, to know that a Tory hates me is a good thing, since I hate them right back.
The Great Parliamentary Swindle
So, they've got away with it then.
The filthy, corrupt pieces of dog-shit that seized power in this country without gaining any kind of mandate, have made sure nobody can investigate their expenses theft anymore. How? They've burned all the fucking evidence.
I don't think, in the history of the world, there has ever been a system more openly and arrogantly corrupt as the one running the UK into the ground right now. I can't believe they're getting away with it. Why aren't we rising up and hanging these posh, in-bred, arse-fucking cunts from the walls of the Tower of London?
They deserve it; every dirty criminal one of them.
I dream of punching David Cameron in the face. I can almost feel the ecstasy of my knuckles connecting with that smug face; his lip splitting; nose breaking. God, it would feel so good. It's like my new wet dream.
George Osborne - that grinning, smug bastard. He's another one I would actually pay to punch in the face. Oh, think of the sheer joy of slamming that self-satisfied grin off his ugly, posh face. Follow it up with a kick in the bollocks. Knock him to the floor and then kick him until he cries for his mommy.
Nick Clegg. I wonder if he's actually worth the bother, so irrelevant is the man. He's so pathetic that I would bet anything he suffers erectile dysfunction. It makes me wonder if his kids are actually his. I bet his wife told him she really, honestly could get pregnant simply from holding his hand, then shagged the milk man when he'd gone to work.
Ian Duncan-Smith. An embittered, pathetic, bald man with an inferiority complex that drives him to take out his frustrations on anybody that can't fight back. Nobody would vote for him as the Conservative leader, so now he wants to get his own back by hurting everybody. Oh, the feeling of shoving his bald, pathetic fucking head down while I bring my knee up into his twisted face. The sound of his nose breaking; the crunching feeling, followed by the spatter of blood hitting the floor.
Fight the power, people. Literally, if you ever get the chance.
The filthy, corrupt pieces of dog-shit that seized power in this country without gaining any kind of mandate, have made sure nobody can investigate their expenses theft anymore. How? They've burned all the fucking evidence.
I don't think, in the history of the world, there has ever been a system more openly and arrogantly corrupt as the one running the UK into the ground right now. I can't believe they're getting away with it. Why aren't we rising up and hanging these posh, in-bred, arse-fucking cunts from the walls of the Tower of London?
They deserve it; every dirty criminal one of them.
I dream of punching David Cameron in the face. I can almost feel the ecstasy of my knuckles connecting with that smug face; his lip splitting; nose breaking. God, it would feel so good. It's like my new wet dream.
George Osborne - that grinning, smug bastard. He's another one I would actually pay to punch in the face. Oh, think of the sheer joy of slamming that self-satisfied grin off his ugly, posh face. Follow it up with a kick in the bollocks. Knock him to the floor and then kick him until he cries for his mommy.
Nick Clegg. I wonder if he's actually worth the bother, so irrelevant is the man. He's so pathetic that I would bet anything he suffers erectile dysfunction. It makes me wonder if his kids are actually his. I bet his wife told him she really, honestly could get pregnant simply from holding his hand, then shagged the milk man when he'd gone to work.
Ian Duncan-Smith. An embittered, pathetic, bald man with an inferiority complex that drives him to take out his frustrations on anybody that can't fight back. Nobody would vote for him as the Conservative leader, so now he wants to get his own back by hurting everybody. Oh, the feeling of shoving his bald, pathetic fucking head down while I bring my knee up into his twisted face. The sound of his nose breaking; the crunching feeling, followed by the spatter of blood hitting the floor.
Fight the power, people. Literally, if you ever get the chance.
Friday, 21 November 2014
Bland Aid
I was there when the first Band Aid single came out. It was a big deal. There'd been nothing like it before, and we all got caught up in this effort to help the poor starving people in Ethiopia. On top of that, the song was actually quite good.
The enthusiasm and excitement grew, and carried on into the summer, culminating in Live Aid - one of the greatest achievements, and one of the greatest days in the history of man.
The whole Band Aid/Live Aid thing was a unique, special moment in history.
So why the hell has Bob Geldof decided to piss on it and permanently mar this shining example of humanity?
The first remake of the Band Aid single was produced by Stock, Aitken and Waterman - that should immediately set the alarm bells ringing. It was fucking crap, and provided the first dent in the Band Aid legacy.
The next remake had rapping in it!!! It was horrible. I've got nothing against rapping - in fact I quite like it. But not in Do They Know it's Christmas. Like I said, that was a special moment in history; and what they did was akin to having the Queen repeat her Silver Jubilee in a shell-suit and Burberry cap. It was fucking disgraceful, and sat like a massive, stinking turd dumped on the legacy of Band Aid.
Now we have another one. And this time they've changed the lyrics. Jesus fucking Mary and Joseph. I refuse to listen to it, and so far have been able to successfully avoid it - one of the benefits of a sedentary lifestyle I guess.
But I know that this latest bastardisation is pissing all over that turd, smearing it all over and then flushing the whole mess down the toilet.
The unique triumph that was Band Aid has been destroyed. Now it's just another song from the eighties.
Bow your head in shame, Bob Geldof. You attention-seeking twat.
Four Walls
My world exists within four walls painted light brown. The only journey I ever go on nowadays is the steady trudge towards insanity.
I know I'm going mad. But I don't care. There's a huge part of me that sees it as a blessed relief. You only have to look outside or read a newspaper to see why. I reckon I've got a long way to go to be as utterly mental as the world's gone anyway.
You won't catch me going out there. It's fucking bonkers; dangerous, as well.
But I've reached a point in my life where I'm just as dangerous. I've spent my life being battered and abused, and I've reached the tipping point now. If somebody tried to force me to go outside, or somebody tried to get inside my home when I don't want them to, I would stab them in the throat with a steak-knife.
I would point out, though, that I would never harm any of the healthcare professionals who do a great job of taking care of me. I hate people who attack ambulance or fire crews, or doctors or nurses. These people are there to help us; I reckon anybody who hurts one of them should be fucking hanged. I'd gladly put the rope round their neck and pull the lever.
I think I'd better bring this to an end for today now. I'm just getting more hostile, so it's best I get myself off to bed; try to have a half-decent night's sleep.
I know I'm going mad. But I don't care. There's a huge part of me that sees it as a blessed relief. You only have to look outside or read a newspaper to see why. I reckon I've got a long way to go to be as utterly mental as the world's gone anyway.
You won't catch me going out there. It's fucking bonkers; dangerous, as well.
But I've reached a point in my life where I'm just as dangerous. I've spent my life being battered and abused, and I've reached the tipping point now. If somebody tried to force me to go outside, or somebody tried to get inside my home when I don't want them to, I would stab them in the throat with a steak-knife.
I would point out, though, that I would never harm any of the healthcare professionals who do a great job of taking care of me. I hate people who attack ambulance or fire crews, or doctors or nurses. These people are there to help us; I reckon anybody who hurts one of them should be fucking hanged. I'd gladly put the rope round their neck and pull the lever.
I think I'd better bring this to an end for today now. I'm just getting more hostile, so it's best I get myself off to bed; try to have a half-decent night's sleep.
Thursday, 20 November 2014
Fall Out
I fell out of bed last night. Fortunately, I have a special bar on the side of my bed which prevented me hitting my head on the floor. Unfortunately, my arm slipped through the bars and I ended up straining my shoulder. I also bruised my ribs on the way down.
Needless to say, I'm a bit sore and tired today.
Needless to say, I'm a bit sore and tired today.
Monday, 17 November 2014
Let's do the Hokey Chokey
I only choked twice last night and I counted myself lucky. How bad is that? I guess you know you've got problems when only choking twice is considered a good night.
I watched that "See No Evil" on YouTube. It's that film about the Moors Murders.
The punishments Hindley and Brady got were woefully inadequate. They should both have been kept alive as long as possible, with every day spent in agony and misery.
I know Brady's still alive. It's not too late to start torturing that bastard and exacting some small measure of revenge for the evil he committed.
As for Keith Bennett's grave; give me five minutes in a room with Brady and a steak knife and I'll have him singing the location in no time. The evil bastard. What degree of sick, twisted cunt do you have to be to do what he and that shagnasty Hindley did?
We really need to start making the punishment fit the crime in this country.
I watched that "See No Evil" on YouTube. It's that film about the Moors Murders.
The punishments Hindley and Brady got were woefully inadequate. They should both have been kept alive as long as possible, with every day spent in agony and misery.
I know Brady's still alive. It's not too late to start torturing that bastard and exacting some small measure of revenge for the evil he committed.
As for Keith Bennett's grave; give me five minutes in a room with Brady and a steak knife and I'll have him singing the location in no time. The evil bastard. What degree of sick, twisted cunt do you have to be to do what he and that shagnasty Hindley did?
We really need to start making the punishment fit the crime in this country.
Sunday, 16 November 2014
Animals
They're at it again.
The followers of the so-called "peaceful" religion of Islam have beheaded another innocent victim who was just trying to help them. Abdul-Rahman Kassig was an American aid worker. He was in Syria, trying to help refugees there when he was abducted a year ago. Now, the IS militants have beheaded him. He hadn't committed a crime; he was a Muslim convert, and he was over there trying to ease the suffering of his fellow man.
It just shows what animals these Muslims are. It shows that they're not really interested in recruiting westerners into their faith. They just want to take over, and spread their foul plague all over the planet.
There needs to be a new crusade. Muslims should be driven out of the civilised world and left to implode in one of their backwards countries.
These people are the most dangerous disease to ever threaten this planet. Wherever they go, they spread death and destruction; human rights atrocities and fear.
Why should we in the west fall victim to them?
It's time to throw them out.
The followers of the so-called "peaceful" religion of Islam have beheaded another innocent victim who was just trying to help them. Abdul-Rahman Kassig was an American aid worker. He was in Syria, trying to help refugees there when he was abducted a year ago. Now, the IS militants have beheaded him. He hadn't committed a crime; he was a Muslim convert, and he was over there trying to ease the suffering of his fellow man.
It just shows what animals these Muslims are. It shows that they're not really interested in recruiting westerners into their faith. They just want to take over, and spread their foul plague all over the planet.
There needs to be a new crusade. Muslims should be driven out of the civilised world and left to implode in one of their backwards countries.
These people are the most dangerous disease to ever threaten this planet. Wherever they go, they spread death and destruction; human rights atrocities and fear.
Why should we in the west fall victim to them?
It's time to throw them out.
Another bad night
Shit, balls and buggery.
Okay; last night's cough-up shit: Brown, gelatinous and - as usual - tasted horrible. But on the upside, at least there were no visitations from my dead mom.
It's strange; I feel guilt over the night my mom died; there are times when I wish she was still here; but I hated her as much as I loved her. She abused me for 37 years - physically, mentally and emotionally. I've still got the scars, inside and out, from her systematic negligence and abuse. I guess I'm like a mongrel dog - not matter how much you beat and abuse it, it still loves you.
Not that I condone beating mongrel dogs - or any animals, for that matter. I'm of the opinion that crimes against animals should be treated in exactly the same way as crimes against people. After all - what makes our lives and health any more important than their's? They feel pain and fear just as much as we do. They bleed if you cut them. So the laws that exist to protect us should apply equally to animals.
I put my DVD of Born on the Fourth of July on earlier, and then slept most of the way through it. It's so annoying when that happens.
Watching the X-Files now. I'd forgot how good it was.
Okay; last night's cough-up shit: Brown, gelatinous and - as usual - tasted horrible. But on the upside, at least there were no visitations from my dead mom.
It's strange; I feel guilt over the night my mom died; there are times when I wish she was still here; but I hated her as much as I loved her. She abused me for 37 years - physically, mentally and emotionally. I've still got the scars, inside and out, from her systematic negligence and abuse. I guess I'm like a mongrel dog - not matter how much you beat and abuse it, it still loves you.
Not that I condone beating mongrel dogs - or any animals, for that matter. I'm of the opinion that crimes against animals should be treated in exactly the same way as crimes against people. After all - what makes our lives and health any more important than their's? They feel pain and fear just as much as we do. They bleed if you cut them. So the laws that exist to protect us should apply equally to animals.
I put my DVD of Born on the Fourth of July on earlier, and then slept most of the way through it. It's so annoying when that happens.
Watching the X-Files now. I'd forgot how good it was.
Saturday, 15 November 2014
Serial Killer
Are you still considered a serial killer if you have a pre-determined list of victims before you go on your killing rampage? Do your victims have to be random?
I have a list of three people I would like to kill if the opportunity ever arose. So, if by some miracle I recovered my health, was able to leave my house and managed to wipe out the three evil people on my list, would that make me a serial killer or just a simple nut-job?
I would like to point out that the three people on my list are genuinely evil people that the world would be much better off without. I sit here every day praying that some fatal accident will befall them; preferably a slow one which involves excruciating pain to offset the agony they have caused people over the years.
I realise this makes me a nutter. I'm self-aware enough to realise that my numerous health conditions that keep me within these four walls are also gradually eating away at my sanity. Maybe I should rename this blog "Nonsensical Ravings of a Man on the Road to Insanity", since I know that's where I'm heading.
If you're reading this, you can come along with me if you want. They say misery loves company, but insanity means you're never alone, so you might as well join the party.
I have a list of three people I would like to kill if the opportunity ever arose. So, if by some miracle I recovered my health, was able to leave my house and managed to wipe out the three evil people on my list, would that make me a serial killer or just a simple nut-job?
I would like to point out that the three people on my list are genuinely evil people that the world would be much better off without. I sit here every day praying that some fatal accident will befall them; preferably a slow one which involves excruciating pain to offset the agony they have caused people over the years.
I realise this makes me a nutter. I'm self-aware enough to realise that my numerous health conditions that keep me within these four walls are also gradually eating away at my sanity. Maybe I should rename this blog "Nonsensical Ravings of a Man on the Road to Insanity", since I know that's where I'm heading.
If you're reading this, you can come along with me if you want. They say misery loves company, but insanity means you're never alone, so you might as well join the party.
Do Putin and Russia think we're all stupid?
Putin's gone to the G20 then. You've got to admire his balls. He's like that cousin you invite to the family party but you secretly hope he won't show. Everybody knows he beats his wife, so when he walks in there's lots of nudging and whispering; snide remarks are made; and some will even have words with him about his behaviour.
Russia is behind the unrest in Ukraine. The evidence is so blatantly clear that only the most pig-headed denial-spouting knob would even try to argue with it.
So, why is Putin being that knob? Does he honestly thin the rest of the world is that stupid?
I'd have more respect for the man if he just stood up and said, "Yeah - we're behind the Ukraine crisis; what of it? Nobody stopped America marching into Iraq and Afghanistan, so fuck you and the NATO you rode in on."
At least then he wouldn't be taking us all for idiots. Doesn't he realise there's no shame in hegemony anymore? Everybody's doing it. Hegemony is the new "intervention". America does it, Japan does it, the EU does it; so why shouldn't the Russians join in and get their piece of the pie?
Come on, Putin - tell the truth. You'll feel a lot better for it.
Russia is behind the unrest in Ukraine. The evidence is so blatantly clear that only the most pig-headed denial-spouting knob would even try to argue with it.
So, why is Putin being that knob? Does he honestly thin the rest of the world is that stupid?
I'd have more respect for the man if he just stood up and said, "Yeah - we're behind the Ukraine crisis; what of it? Nobody stopped America marching into Iraq and Afghanistan, so fuck you and the NATO you rode in on."
At least then he wouldn't be taking us all for idiots. Doesn't he realise there's no shame in hegemony anymore? Everybody's doing it. Hegemony is the new "intervention". America does it, Japan does it, the EU does it; so why shouldn't the Russians join in and get their piece of the pie?
Come on, Putin - tell the truth. You'll feel a lot better for it.
Polonium 210
Well, the best way to describe the stuff I coughed up last night would be luminous. It was bright orange; almost glowing in the dark. It looked liked I'd been drinking Polonium 210. There was quite a lot of it as well. It took ages to cough it all up.
Sometimes it feels like I'm going to drown. There's so much - solid and liquid - at times that it feels like my lungs are full and I'm never going to get it all up and breathe again. Sometimes I wonder if that would be such a bad thing. It would certainly put me out of my misery. My waking times are bad enough with the pain, the endless chest infections and the catalogue of my many other health problems; you would think I at least deserve a decent night's sleep.
I don't get a lot of sleep. I choke a lot; sometimes it feels like I only go five minutes between each one. Frustration can kick in at these times and I don't want to go back to sleep. So, I'll hurt myself, or start playing video games to try to keep myself awake.
Things aren't helped much by my mom appearing at the bottom of my bed every now and then, as she did last night. She never does or says anything; she just stands there, hands set wide on my baseboard as she leans on it, staring accusingly at me. It doesn't scare me, but it's not nice to have your dead mom staring at you from the bottom of your bed.
I've got a few issues about my mom's death. I have a lot of guilt. It's because when my dad died of cancer in 2004 I was alone with him in his hospice room. I held his hand as he passed. And it was the most traumatic thing I'd ever gone through up to that point. I cried like a baby. Of course, my two older brothers, who like to pretend they're big men, were nowhere to be seen. One ran off to the pub to get drunk, and the other wouldn't come to the hospice for ages, and when he did come, it took us half an hour to get him into the room because he was too scared. Such big men, my two brothers.
Anyway, my mom died in 2007, and the night she died, I knew she was going. They had moved her to a side room; she was unconscious, and her breathing was so laboured I knew there was no way she was going to make it through the night. But I didn't say anything. I chickened out. The memory of my dad going was too raw, so I ran away like a coward. So, my mom died alone in a side room, and that fact has haunted me ever since.
Sometimes it feels like I'm going to drown. There's so much - solid and liquid - at times that it feels like my lungs are full and I'm never going to get it all up and breathe again. Sometimes I wonder if that would be such a bad thing. It would certainly put me out of my misery. My waking times are bad enough with the pain, the endless chest infections and the catalogue of my many other health problems; you would think I at least deserve a decent night's sleep.
I don't get a lot of sleep. I choke a lot; sometimes it feels like I only go five minutes between each one. Frustration can kick in at these times and I don't want to go back to sleep. So, I'll hurt myself, or start playing video games to try to keep myself awake.
Things aren't helped much by my mom appearing at the bottom of my bed every now and then, as she did last night. She never does or says anything; she just stands there, hands set wide on my baseboard as she leans on it, staring accusingly at me. It doesn't scare me, but it's not nice to have your dead mom staring at you from the bottom of your bed.
I've got a few issues about my mom's death. I have a lot of guilt. It's because when my dad died of cancer in 2004 I was alone with him in his hospice room. I held his hand as he passed. And it was the most traumatic thing I'd ever gone through up to that point. I cried like a baby. Of course, my two older brothers, who like to pretend they're big men, were nowhere to be seen. One ran off to the pub to get drunk, and the other wouldn't come to the hospice for ages, and when he did come, it took us half an hour to get him into the room because he was too scared. Such big men, my two brothers.
Anyway, my mom died in 2007, and the night she died, I knew she was going. They had moved her to a side room; she was unconscious, and her breathing was so laboured I knew there was no way she was going to make it through the night. But I didn't say anything. I chickened out. The memory of my dad going was too raw, so I ran away like a coward. So, my mom died alone in a side room, and that fact has haunted me ever since.
Friday, 14 November 2014
Frankie Boyle - Legend
I love Frankie Boyle. I've got all his DVDs and books.
He's a throwback to the days of rock n roll comedy. He doesn't give a shit what the namby-pamby left-wing dickheads say, and he refuses to compromise his art for anyone. He just gets up there, tells his jokes, and you can either laugh or fuck off. Of course, he'd rather the former, but he couldn't give a shit if you don't like what he says.
It's important to point out that Frankie is extremely funny. If he wasn't, then he couldn't get away with saying the things he does.
He's a great leveller; an expert at puncturing the egos of people who - let's face it - are just crying out for people to laugh at them. He destroys members of his audience with savage, razor-sharp wit, and they love it. We all love it. Getting a roasting from the venerable Mr Boyle is like a badge of honour. I personally would love to be insulted by him.
Frankie says the things we want to say but are too afraid. He makes the jokes mere mortals like us could never get away with. But there's no genuine animosity in his comedy. He's not racist (official); sexist or bigoted. He just believes - and rightly so - that when it comes to humour, everybody is fair game, especially if they're celebrities or wannabes. He made jokes about Jordan and her disabled son, which created a storm, but if that fame-desperate slag doesn't want jokes made about her son then she shouldn't drag him into the limelight.
Frankie is a comedy god. He is the king of the true character of the British sense of humour, and long may he reign.
It's about time he released a new DVD though.
He's a throwback to the days of rock n roll comedy. He doesn't give a shit what the namby-pamby left-wing dickheads say, and he refuses to compromise his art for anyone. He just gets up there, tells his jokes, and you can either laugh or fuck off. Of course, he'd rather the former, but he couldn't give a shit if you don't like what he says.
It's important to point out that Frankie is extremely funny. If he wasn't, then he couldn't get away with saying the things he does.
He's a great leveller; an expert at puncturing the egos of people who - let's face it - are just crying out for people to laugh at them. He destroys members of his audience with savage, razor-sharp wit, and they love it. We all love it. Getting a roasting from the venerable Mr Boyle is like a badge of honour. I personally would love to be insulted by him.
Frankie says the things we want to say but are too afraid. He makes the jokes mere mortals like us could never get away with. But there's no genuine animosity in his comedy. He's not racist (official); sexist or bigoted. He just believes - and rightly so - that when it comes to humour, everybody is fair game, especially if they're celebrities or wannabes. He made jokes about Jordan and her disabled son, which created a storm, but if that fame-desperate slag doesn't want jokes made about her son then she shouldn't drag him into the limelight.
Frankie is a comedy god. He is the king of the true character of the British sense of humour, and long may he reign.
It's about time he released a new DVD though.
Angus Sinclair
Potentially Scotland's most prolific serial killer. Certainly the killer of two 17 year old girls - Helen Scott and Christine Eadie.
He's been sentenced to 37 years in prison. But he's 69 years old. So let's face it - that sentence is no punishment at all. He's just sorted himself out a comfortable retirement home where they'll take care of him, make sure he's warm in the winter, keep him clean and give him three meals a day.
What he should be doing is hanging on the end of a rope. Think about it - he's never going to get out of prison; all he's going to be is a burden on public finances. Hanging the bastard will save a fortune. Plus, it will be a proper punishment for once.
He's been sentenced to 37 years in prison. But he's 69 years old. So let's face it - that sentence is no punishment at all. He's just sorted himself out a comfortable retirement home where they'll take care of him, make sure he's warm in the winter, keep him clean and give him three meals a day.
What he should be doing is hanging on the end of a rope. Think about it - he's never going to get out of prison; all he's going to be is a burden on public finances. Hanging the bastard will save a fortune. Plus, it will be a proper punishment for once.
Choke
So, last night was my usual choke-fest. I woke up four times, choking on various unpleasant substances.
It's a horrible experience. The choking in and of itself is bad enough, but there's the taste as well - bitter; acid; sickly-sweet sometimes. I cough this foul stuff into a tissue, and the sight of it turns my stomach.
Is it any wonder I get frustrated; especially when you take into account the fact that I've tried everything to try to stop it happening? Sometimes I cut myself so that the pain will keep me awake. I sleep in an almost upright position.
I've spent most of today in a drug-addled stupor; sleeping on and off for most of it. I've blacked out three times.
In between these periods of unconsciousness I've been watching the episodes of disc three, season nine of The Simpsons. Some of the best episodes they've ever done are on that disc.
I've also been watching disc two of season six of The X-Files. Not as strong as some previous discs but still very entertaining.
Among my vast array of health problems is my reduced liver function. I also get pain in that area which I'd had under control for a while but it's started getting bad again over the last couple of days. I'm going to be really pissed off if that starts getting really bad again.
My entire life has been a case of dealing with pain of one kind or another. My mom used to say, "God only gives you as much pain as you can deal with." That's bollocks. I have had way much more than anyone can be expected to deal with and the bastard still keeps piling it on.
If the Rapture comes, and I get to stand in front of that bastard, and I'm to kick him in the bollocks and gob in his eye. There's going to be no falling to my knees and lowering my eyes. There'll be no praising him or begging for absolution from my sins. I'll be looking him square in the eye and say, "Hey, bastard. Stick your bible up your arse, because that's where my foot's about to go, you twat. All the shit you've piled on me all my life - fuck you and Adolf Hitler. Amen, you bastard."
It's a horrible experience. The choking in and of itself is bad enough, but there's the taste as well - bitter; acid; sickly-sweet sometimes. I cough this foul stuff into a tissue, and the sight of it turns my stomach.
Is it any wonder I get frustrated; especially when you take into account the fact that I've tried everything to try to stop it happening? Sometimes I cut myself so that the pain will keep me awake. I sleep in an almost upright position.
I've spent most of today in a drug-addled stupor; sleeping on and off for most of it. I've blacked out three times.
In between these periods of unconsciousness I've been watching the episodes of disc three, season nine of The Simpsons. Some of the best episodes they've ever done are on that disc.
I've also been watching disc two of season six of The X-Files. Not as strong as some previous discs but still very entertaining.
Among my vast array of health problems is my reduced liver function. I also get pain in that area which I'd had under control for a while but it's started getting bad again over the last couple of days. I'm going to be really pissed off if that starts getting really bad again.
My entire life has been a case of dealing with pain of one kind or another. My mom used to say, "God only gives you as much pain as you can deal with." That's bollocks. I have had way much more than anyone can be expected to deal with and the bastard still keeps piling it on.
If the Rapture comes, and I get to stand in front of that bastard, and I'm to kick him in the bollocks and gob in his eye. There's going to be no falling to my knees and lowering my eyes. There'll be no praising him or begging for absolution from my sins. I'll be looking him square in the eye and say, "Hey, bastard. Stick your bible up your arse, because that's where my foot's about to go, you twat. All the shit you've piled on me all my life - fuck you and Adolf Hitler. Amen, you bastard."
Thursday, 13 November 2014
My health
I suffer from a number of health conditions, both physical and mental. I'm disabled and housebound.
I hate it. I feel like life has taken a huge shit on me.
I suffer depression, and have done since before it somehow became fashionable. I cut myself, and am often suicidal.
One of my physical conditions is that I choke in the night. I'm not talking about sleep apnoea; I actually regurgitate food and acid in my sleep and inhale it. I wake up choking and have to cough it up. But sometimes it doesn't all come up. Sometimes it feels like my lungs are full of shit. Needless to say, I get a lot of chest infections, and have to take antibiotics on top of the 46 other tablets I have to take every day.
The last couple of days have been bad. I had to have the doctor in today because I've been feeling shite. My doctor is great; a really lovely lady. Dr Hughes. She gave me the once over and had a chat with me. Thankfully, I haven't got a chest infection today, but my blood pressure - which I have problems with - is right up in the red again.
I want to die. I honestly do. If it wasn't for the fact that I need to be here for my kids I would top myself immediately. I'm genuinely not scared of dying, although I do want it to be on my own terms. For once in my life I want to call the shots.
I used to have a plan for my death. I would kill my brother using a knife and a baseball bat before going over to lie on the railway tracks and let a train run over me.
Unfortunately, my worsening health problems mean I'm no longer physically capable of carrying out that plan. So I'm trying to come up with a new one. It's not easy. I get out of breath literally within a few feet. I have to use adapted crutches. How the hell am I supposed to kill my brother in this state? Killing myself is no problem - I have pills; I could open a vein. But I want to end that evil bastard brother of mine before I go.
It may seem odd that I want to kill my brother, but trust me when I tell you, I would be doing the world a favour. He is a genuinely, truly evil man. He's a nonce, a thief, adulterer and bully. He has absolutely no redeeming features. Honestly, there's not so much as a glimmer of goodness in him. He is a monster, and the world would be much better without him.
So, I'll carry on trying to come up with ways to take him out before I check out myself.
PS Professor Jon Raphael of Birmingham University is a corrupt, short, ponce of a man, and if I ever meet him again I will stick a knife in his throat.
I hate it. I feel like life has taken a huge shit on me.
I suffer depression, and have done since before it somehow became fashionable. I cut myself, and am often suicidal.
One of my physical conditions is that I choke in the night. I'm not talking about sleep apnoea; I actually regurgitate food and acid in my sleep and inhale it. I wake up choking and have to cough it up. But sometimes it doesn't all come up. Sometimes it feels like my lungs are full of shit. Needless to say, I get a lot of chest infections, and have to take antibiotics on top of the 46 other tablets I have to take every day.
The last couple of days have been bad. I had to have the doctor in today because I've been feeling shite. My doctor is great; a really lovely lady. Dr Hughes. She gave me the once over and had a chat with me. Thankfully, I haven't got a chest infection today, but my blood pressure - which I have problems with - is right up in the red again.
I want to die. I honestly do. If it wasn't for the fact that I need to be here for my kids I would top myself immediately. I'm genuinely not scared of dying, although I do want it to be on my own terms. For once in my life I want to call the shots.
I used to have a plan for my death. I would kill my brother using a knife and a baseball bat before going over to lie on the railway tracks and let a train run over me.
Unfortunately, my worsening health problems mean I'm no longer physically capable of carrying out that plan. So I'm trying to come up with a new one. It's not easy. I get out of breath literally within a few feet. I have to use adapted crutches. How the hell am I supposed to kill my brother in this state? Killing myself is no problem - I have pills; I could open a vein. But I want to end that evil bastard brother of mine before I go.
It may seem odd that I want to kill my brother, but trust me when I tell you, I would be doing the world a favour. He is a genuinely, truly evil man. He's a nonce, a thief, adulterer and bully. He has absolutely no redeeming features. Honestly, there's not so much as a glimmer of goodness in him. He is a monster, and the world would be much better without him.
So, I'll carry on trying to come up with ways to take him out before I check out myself.
PS Professor Jon Raphael of Birmingham University is a corrupt, short, ponce of a man, and if I ever meet him again I will stick a knife in his throat.
Confucius say "Piss off"
Why does everybody want to be a philosopher these days?
Everywhere you turn; Facebook, Twitter, Z-List celebrity sites - they're full of these faux deep comments and life lessons supposedly to guide you through life, while at the same time making them look like the Dalai Lama. The trouble is, the stuff they come out with is bollocks. It's something they've read somewhere else which they then decide to interpret in their own way and pass it off as their own. The trouble is, these people have never read a book in their life, so what we end up with is some illiterate, nonsensical pile of anti-grammatical shit.
"Don't judge my choices without understanding my reasons."
"Trust no man fear no bitch"
"Never change da way you am"
"No one is in charge of your happiness except you"
"Don't let negative people hold you back."
"If I mess with you, I mess with you cant nobody mess that up but your [sic]"
"Your as strong as you feel [sic]"
"Me, Myself & I, that's all I got in the end..."
"The stronger you are the better you feel"
"Some people are so poor, all the [sic] have is money!"
Wow! My life is so enriched after reading these pearls of wisdom. I'm ready to take on the world.
Please stop with the armchair philosophising. It's annoying, and you just sound fucking stupid.
Everywhere you turn; Facebook, Twitter, Z-List celebrity sites - they're full of these faux deep comments and life lessons supposedly to guide you through life, while at the same time making them look like the Dalai Lama. The trouble is, the stuff they come out with is bollocks. It's something they've read somewhere else which they then decide to interpret in their own way and pass it off as their own. The trouble is, these people have never read a book in their life, so what we end up with is some illiterate, nonsensical pile of anti-grammatical shit.
"Don't judge my choices without understanding my reasons."
"Trust no man fear no bitch"
"Never change da way you am"
"No one is in charge of your happiness except you"
"Don't let negative people hold you back."
"If I mess with you, I mess with you cant nobody mess that up but your [sic]"
"Your as strong as you feel [sic]"
"Me, Myself & I, that's all I got in the end..."
"The stronger you are the better you feel"
"Some people are so poor, all the [sic] have is money!"
Wow! My life is so enriched after reading these pearls of wisdom. I'm ready to take on the world.
Please stop with the armchair philosophising. It's annoying, and you just sound fucking stupid.
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