A Fuel-Injected Suicide Machine

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My car tyre burst when I was in a scummy area called Birkenhead and I quickly found myself truly fucked. Due to my stinginess I didn't have a spare one and so had to call some nearby shop to send somebody to help me. As it turns out they sent a full-on fucking psychopath who picked me up and drove me down small suburban roads at about 60mph whilst detailing his plans for a new civil war. Genuinely. He’d been out of prison for seven days and already he was planning a revolution in which 'the whites fight all the blacks'. He believed that foreigners were coming over and stealing all of our jobs to the point were he told me 'I don't blame my kids for being fucking drug dealers'. I had never been so terrified in my entire life. He asked me if I knew any shortcuts between where I'd been stranded and where we were going which I sadly didn’t- “How da fuck do you expect to get away from da police if you don't know your short cuts?!” was his response. The Mad Max franchise might consist of adrenaline fuelled action films in which nutters drive through desolate areas at high-speeds, but it hasn't got shit on being helped by an ex-convict from a working class town in the North of England. I literally shat myself.

This Is Hardcore

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When I was younger, I was well aware that the true meaning of Christmas was to receive as many presents as possible whilst hiding behind the sofa from anybody who may attempt to visit. Since my parents' divorce however, almost every Christmas has been completely different from the last. A couple of years ago in fact I found myself sat around a table with a friend's loving family as they sang songs and had a great time. This might seem normal to you but because I have nothing to do with my family- and we've never sang songs- I couldn't help but assume the night would end with me being burnt alive in a giant Wicker Man. The next year I was kindly invited back but this time we'd be staying in an empty hotel that one family member had been tasked with looking after for the season. Not only that but I swear to God that that specific family member genuinely did show me both an axe that he kept hidden and also some documents stating that someone of his name had worked there a good hundred years earlier. I couldn't go past a fucking lift without expecting to see a river of blood come flooding out. God knows what I'll be doing this year for it. Maybe it'll be another quiet one at home or maybe I'll be floating above my bed as somebody throws holy water in my face and I call their mother a cunt.

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.  

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.

Hell Hath No Fury

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There's a person in my life who I can't stand. I won't refer to them by name but if you're reading this, you leather-faced old bitch, then I hope you fucking die. Just so that you have something to imagine, she's coated in three inches of fake sun-tan and has wrinkles so deep that she looks like a satellite photo of a mud slide. If you can picture a pair of testicles that somebody has stuck some googly eyes and a frowny face onto then you're pretty much there. Anyway, the hag pisses me off to the point that often I'll call somebody up to vent to. On one occasion this just happened to be my Mum where I said that I wished that this person would get stabbed in the face and bleed to death. That was fine. Then I said that I hoped they'd get cancer of the soul, painfully slip away into the afterlife and then spend an eternity boiling in a pool of hot, molten shit. It was at that point that my Mum started having a go at me for wishing cancer on somebody. Where's the fucking consistency there? Apparently it's okay to hope somebody gets a sharp blade jammed into their face but not to wish they get a fairly common disease. My Mum said it was different because anybody can get cancer. Who'd have thought that saying "I'm pretty sure anybody can get stabbed in the face, too" would lead to such an argument?