One Of A Hundred Memories That I Don't Want

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In this latest instalment of the Men In Black series, we see that Liam Neeson is the head of the secret organisation's London division. After that interview which he gave a little while back though, I'm guessing that he calls his particular branch the “Men In Black Bastards”. Not that anybody seems to remember that any more. Either the internet really is a fucking fickle place when it comes to its outrage-and-cancel culture or those neuralizer's really do work! Meanwhile, Tessa Thompson joins the American branch as a new recruit after having been obsessed with the idea of alien life visiting the planet since she was a child. Because aliens are to most children what Morrissey is to lonely twenty-somethings; they're a phase we all go through before realising that they're ridiculous and we have to move on with our lives. Her boss, Emma Thompson, however, sends her over to Neeson's division in England because she thinks that, “something is up with London”. I mean.. that's a fucking understatement isn't it? Boris fucking Johnson is about to become Prime Minister and so I imagine that within the year most Londoner's will be living on a diet of cockroaches and wanking into their fallout shelter to stay sane. Right now though there's some extra-terrestrial shit that needs sorting out and so rookie agent Thompson is partnered up with fellow agent Chris Hemsworth as the two set about trying to solve it.

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I sometimes wonder what the worst thing someone has done, who I’ve randomly been in close proximity to is. I walk past strangers all the time, at least one of them must have been a fucking nutter. I mean, I must have walked past a murderer at some point but have I walked past a murderer who then went home and shagged a dog? It's not impossible is it? What about a murderer who shagged a dog and then worshipped a statue of Mel Gibson that they'd made out of shit? I have walked past a lot of people and so I don't think we can rule it out. It's one of the many reasons that I tend to assault people who attempt to shake my hand. To me a stranger is basically a cat locked in a box with a can of poisonous gas that may or may not go off. They exist in a hypothetical state where they could either be Earth dwelling angels of kindness or even turd-obsessed whore killers who believe that Cliff Richard wants them to burn things. I'm more of a ‘glass-is-half-empty’ kind of chap and so if a human is being presented to me as a blank canvas then I'll assume that they're all animal rapists, child killers and Michael Bay fans until I'm proven wrong. If I don't know you then I think you're scum and I'd like you to leave me the fuck alone. In many ways, I think that this is one of the biggest reasons that I love the 1997 family movie, Men In Black.