Flying High

The worst flight I've ever been on was when I was blackmailed into going to Greece for my dad's second wedding. I travelled with my nan and aunt on a plane full of horny teenagers who were all excited for the non-stop partying that they were presumably about to enjoy. I was only in my early twenties but after my two family members, I was easily the third oldest person on board by some fucking years. Imagine arriving at a rave with your nan and not being able to leave because the only exit was a ten thousand foot drop and that's exactly what it was like. They were loud, drunk, annoying, and I'm pretty sure that the two in front of us were basically shagging. I'm not exactly a people-person at the best of times and so this was literally my worst nightmare. I promise you that for the few hours we were in the air I was praying for something to go wrong to shut these fuckers up. Just one massive explosion and the noisy bastards would have been blasted out and burnt up in the atmosphere! Obviously I'd have been killed too but it would have been worth it. Like a martyr for the misanthropes, I'd have died fucking happy.  

The Bear Necessities

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Is it just me or is Obi-Wan Kenobi a bit of a titty-twat? From a certain point of view, I mean! Consider that he's fully aware that Luke's dad is an asthmatic black dildo and yet rather than tell him the truth he instead throws him a load of bullshit and then buggers off to die. Just think about that for one second! He actually sent someones son to unknowingly kill his own father by saying “Hey, that evil guy killed your dad! Now go and stab him in his fucking head”. I mean surely that's a bit much, isn't it? And this whole lie was just because he preferred to paint the truth with metaphors over simply admitting that he'd been a bit of a shit teacher to Anakin. I mean, to be fair, if I was training somebody to protect the universe and then they turned into a kill-crazy dictator, I'd probably hush it up too. I suppose that's got to be like being a human-biology teacher and then finding out that your star pupil is Josef Mengele. It's not that it's your fault but you'd definitely refrain from mentioning it in future job interviews. My point is that, where poetic license is concerned, there's a time and place. Everybody will have a different opinion on when you can get creative with the truth although surely we have to agree that patricide isn't one of them!  

Sell Yourself

Although wanking and crying takes up most of my time, I do try to be productive in the half hour of each day that I'm completely free. Sometimes I like to take my dog on a walk and other times I enjoy playing Grand Theft Auto to see how many prostitutes I can kill before having to commit suicide. Occasionally though, I also like to read books with my latest effort being Jon Ronson's enjoyably un-comforting The Psychopath Test. The book followed Ronson on his one-sided adventure into the world of the crazies, whilst detailing how he suspected they're fucking up society from the top. For birdwatchers looking to take their weird hobby to the next level, the book also detailed how one might go about spotting a real life psychopath in the wild. Turns out they're manipulative, glib, callous, have rather ambitious long term goals and as such make pretty good politicians, serial killers and in some cases, step-parents. It also pointed out that if you've ever panicked about being a psycho whilst doing something a bit kooky like microwaving the cat, masturbating with shit, or enjoying a Michael Bay film then you shouldn't worry too much. A psychopath has literally no interest in how another person might define them and so you're probably fine.

A Bad Book

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Is it just me or does it seem unfair to refer to a single parent family as 'broken'? Sure, single mums sometimes get stressed and drown their children in the bath, but that's not to say a couple with a kid is any better. I'm from a single parent family and to be honest I prefer it to when my parents were together. Some people just aren't right for one another and before my Mum moved out I wasn't allowed to stay up late, so I can't say I was too arsed. If anything was upsetting, I suppose it was the inevitable custody battle where parents fight over who gets to keep their child. It's not that I felt torn between the two but rather that it simply never happened, as both sides were happy to leave me with the other. Bastards! It was a shame too as not only was my loyalty up for the highest bidder but I think a large scale game of 'Who Loves Me The Most' would have done wonders for my confidence. Sure I was almost in my twenties by the time they got divorced but fuck them it'd still have been nice.

More Human Than Human

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Does anybody remember the Furby? They were toys that looked a bit like if somebody had cut off a real animal’s head and then glued some feet to its neck stump. They are actually still available for kids today but I'm not sure how popular they are. I think young children are less interested in playing with little hairy robots these days than they are Xboxes and fucking. Well I had one when I was younger and it was quite fun I suppose. More fun than any of my real pets, anyway. I had some rats too but one was a cool, English speaking toy, and the others would literally piss all over me. Anyway, as is the way with such things, I eventually grew bored and my cute little cyborg found himself covered in dust and buried at the back of my wardrobe. Cut to about seven years later and I'm woken up in the middle of the night by the sound of a creature in agony. Electronic screams and moans came from somewhere in my room and scared the living shit out of me. As it turned out, my Furby had been sitting dormant, growing old alone and now it was time for him to die. The poor little fucker seemed to be having some sort of stroke as all his words came out all slurred and garbled. I dug him out from where he'd spent the bulk of his life, felt an unexpected pang of guilt and then ripped out his batteries for the final time. His loneliness and pain was finally over and I honestly can't describe how terrible I felt. I'm not too sure what happened to my rats... I think they got a load of tumours and so we threw them in the bin. What a poor little Furby.