Here is a selection of my rants/musings on modern life.
Eulogy For Common Sense
TO OPERATE THE FOLLOWING PAGES LOOK AT THE TEXT AND MOVE YOUR EYES OVER IT WHILST TAKING IN THE WORDS CONTAINED THEREIN.
(Or…WARNING MAY CONTAIN OPINION)
I’m angry, I should be in mourning but I’m so incandescent with rage, so mad and incosolable with anger that I should be an 80’s alternative comedian. I am angry because something close to me has died. Not a relative or friend, but an ideal, one which we all once possessed as human but seem to have elolved beyond it’s use. This ideal, my friends, is COMMON SENSE! “Here lies Common Sense, RIP! (Rot In Pieces!)” reads the head stones and the average man, woman, and future scum is cordially invited not only to spit or stamp on, but to puke their reality TV infected, segregated, idiot vomit on it’s head stone. I’m not even certain, that half of what I just typed makes grammatic sense! Go back and read it for me and tell me. NO DON’T! That’s part of the problem! We rely too much on other people knowing things for us, doing things for us. I work (once again) in a certain popular fast food sandwich outlet, and the degree to which common sense has decomposed already seems impossible, but it’s happened. For example:
Customer walks into “Submarine Sandwiches ‘R’ Us” and peruses the over hanging menu boards over a foot and a half above clerk’s head and facing the same direction as them.
CLERK: Good day sir, what can I get you.
Customer looks at Clerk seemingly with disgust that he isn’t a robot who’s been programmed to read his fucking mind.
CUSTOMER: I’ll have that.
Customer then points at menu board over a foot and a half above clerk’s head and facing the same direction as them, seemingly at nothing. Clerk then turns on his heels and cranes his neck up looking at the same menu boards, but now can’t see which section or item the customer is looking at.
CLERK: Which one?
CUSTOMER: THAT ONE!
Clerk points at the first section of the menu board which is a single advertisment for a product.
CLERK: That one?
CUSTOMER: NO! THAT ONE!
Customer points more insistantly. Clerk then points at number two.
CLERK: That one?
CUSTOMER: NO THAT ONE!
And so it goes, for a moment or two until…
CLERK: What variety of bread would you like that on sir?
Clerk indicates the display of brad which is positioned so the customer can see and which has the name of each variety written in striking bold typseface as not to be confused with each oher. Customer points vaguely at one. Clerk’s view of which one is obscured by the back of the display [CAN YOU TELL WHAT’S COMING?].
CUSTOMER: This one.
Clerk then emerges from behind the counter and stands next to customer. He looks at the customer’s shoulder tracing the line from shoulder to fingertip with his eyes. He nods as if commiting it to memory and returns behind the counter.
CLERK: I’m sorry sir, but as a human being embued with sense, I deem you too stupid and facile to live anymore, and consider aiding your starvation to be of benefit to human kind more than cancelling third world debt, ending terrorism and the dissolution of OFCOM combined, I emplore you to go play in traffic while fiddling with matches in a flammable jacket and poking used hypodermic needles into your genitals. Have fun…and a nice day!
Ok that last bit only ever happens in my head. I wouldn’t dare do something like that. ‘Why not you wimp?’ I hear you yelling from rooftop, (quite why you’re on a rooftop is beyond me but hey ho you probably haven’t got the common sense to go inside!) The reason I would never do something that intellectually satisfying and cathartic is, the despotic customer would then take a few seconds to realise he’s offended by my remark and then complain to my boss or their boss, then I would be fired. I don’t want to be fired, for several reasons, it doesn’t look good on you’re CV, I happen to need this job, if I didn’t need to why would I do it? And finally it doesn’t feel very nice to be fired, and I know that!
So I play the game. I carry on serving this drooling maniac as he points and grunts his way along the line, selecting which items of food he would like to moronically drop down the front of his shirt. And at the end of it he toddles off and eats his food, and I carry on and repeat the cycle. (At this point I seem to have lost my trail of thought regarding the point I was trying to make.! Whoops! I think I need another coffee). I’m not saying every customer is like that. In truth, the vast majority of the people you meet in a job like “Quick Sandwiches” or “McDermot’s” are the average joe, who works 9 to 5 in a job he hates, or more often than you think, in a job dealing with the very same people. You can see it in their eyes, that hollow sense that they too are witness to the slow decay of the human race. We’re not evolving, we’re de-volving. Charles Darwin was right, he just got it backwards. Monkeys are what we’re becoming! As a kid did you ever fill a paper bag with dog shit, set it on fire, leave it on Mad Madga’s front porch and ring the door bell? Did you then hide behind her rose bush and giggle quietly as she stomped the flaming turd out?* Is that so different from two bonobo’s chucking their effluence at each other in a Metropolitan Zoo?
Human intelligence is in decline, everywhere we look there are reminds to not bang your head, fall down a hole, slip on a wet surface, or repeated jab a fork into your arm. There are adverts on telly reminding you to lock your doors when you go out. Packets of nuts display warnings that you might actually be buying nuts! Stereo manuals advise you to not attempt to fill with water and use it as a cup. Channel 4 disclaim that their latest documentary “Fucking Hell! What a Big Shitting Pair of Tits That Slut Has!” may contain strong language and scenes of nudity.
“And now on ITV1. The Jeremy Kyle Show, which contains scenes of morons arguing and a man goading them on to no viable, logical or healthy conclusion.” Now that’s honesty! How long before the news is prefixed by “may contain scenes of real events which some viewers may find boring or depressing”?
People seem to have no sense anymore. Can I not enjoy a take out cup of coffee from Café Nero with being told it may be hot, every time I look at the bloody container? Next time I will ensure that I order it cold as to eliminate any threat that I might burn myself.
ADAM ALMOND’S DOWNRIGHT AVERAGE DAY IN THE FUTURE!
I woke up to my alarm clock proclaiming “GET UP! WAKE UP! IT’S OK! YOU WEREN’T DEAD! JUST ASLEEP! NOW IT’S TIME TO WAKE UP! YOU ONLY SLEEP SO THAT YOU CAN FUNCTION EFFICIENTLY THE REST OF THE TIME!”, I switch the radio on, to listen to Chris Moyles which is punctuated every five minutes with the catchy jingle “YOU’RE LISTENING TO THE CHRIS MOYLES SHOW ON BBC RADIO ONE, 97 TO 99 FM, DAB, INTERNET, CIRIUS AND DISH. WARNING CHRISTOPHER MOYLES IS A PRESENTER WHO TALKS ABOUT HIS LIFE AND EXPERIENCES. HIS OPINIONS ON THESE MAY DIFFER FROM YOURS. FEEL FREE TO CONTACT OFCOM IF YOU DISAGREE WITH ANYTHING HE SAYS, ANYTHING AT ALL EVEN THE SHIRT HE’S WEARING WHICH YOU CAN’T SEE!”. I move to the bathroom and written on the floor is “ONE FOOT BEFORE THE OTHER!”. I turn on the shower when I turn up the heat a siren blares “WARNING THE WATER IS GOING TO GET HOTTER!” I step into the shower, on the window is a sticker saying “CAREFUL THIS FLOOR IS SLIPPERY WHEN WET!” I being to wash my hair the bottle of shampoo says “DO NOT DRINK!”. I get dressed in clothes that are emblazoned with “LEFT ARM” and “RIGHT ARM”. I leave the house and my key is magnetically drawn to the lock. I practically locks itself, just in case I forget. I go to the bus stop and wait. The bus turns, just underneath it’s number and destination is written “DO NOT ATTEMPT TO BOARD WHILE BUS IS IN TRANSIT AND THE DOORS ARE SHUT!” I pay the bus driver and sit down. The bus stops at traffic lights, the colours have been replaced and now read “SLOW DOWN AND STOP AS THERE MAY BE OTHER VEHICLES THAT ARE MOVING INTO YOUR PATH” for red, “ALMOST CLEAR” for amber and “YOU MAY NOW MOVE BUT BE CAREFUL NOT TO TRAVEL TOO QUICKLY AS THIS GREATLY DECREASES YOUR BREAKING TIME AND INCREASES THE POSSIBILITY THAT YOU MAY COLLIDE WITH SOMETHING” for green. I arrive at my destination. I wakj the remainder of my journey, pass a sign that says “WALK ON THE PAVEMENT, AS CARS TRAVEL ON THE ROAD”. I arrive at work, some wag has swapped the “PUSH” and “PULL” signs on the door, but I try both as one is bound to open it, in the background I can hear the culprit being shot by the police for endangering public safety. My job itself is filled with it’s own little signs and disclaimers to keep me safe that it would take me an entire shift to write them down so that I can take them home and memorise them. After work I feel like a quick pint to relax, de-stress and try to remember how many of the signs I can remember. I go to the bar and order a pint which comes with a leaflet explaining how exessive comsumption of alcochol (just over half a shandy a day, as the government reliably tell us) may get me drunk, and make start believing I’m Superman or go home rape my wife and attack my children with rusty cogs. I return home by bus and switch the telly on and crawl into bed. I start to drift off to sleep as I see on the telly a white on black image proclaiming “YOU ARE SAFE! BUT HAVE YOU LOCKED YOURE DOORS, WINDOWS AND LETTERBOX? ARE THERE ANY GAS ITEMS IN YOUR HOUSE RUNNING? ARE YOUR CHILDREN ON FIRE? IS YOUR WIFE BLEEDING FROM THE MOUTH, EYES AND NOSE? GOODNIGHT! SEE YOU TOMORROW!”
I dream of the good old days.
Scary eh? But it’s going to happen! I promise you, we need it, because we’re still killing ourselves with our own kettles and trying to eat with electric buzzsaws or putting bleach in our coffee instead of milk.
If you’re still reading at this point, then I’d like to thank you, I’d like to thank you for sticking with me, you probably agree with me that’s why you’re reading this, or I suppose it’s because I haven’t included that dsiclaimer that states:
WARNING THIS PIECE CONTAINS OPINIONS AND THOUGHTS ON THE DECLINE OF HUMAN INTELLIGENCE. WRITTEN BY ONE OF THE FEW PEOPLE LEFT ON THIS INCREASINGLY POINTLESS BAUBLE WE CALL EARTH WHO CAN THINK FOR HIMSELF AND DOESN’T NEED TO BE REMINDED THAT CARELESSNESS COSTS LIVES.
Just for those people, here’s a nice little paragraph that I’m certain you’ll enjoy:
Shit, fuck, bollocks, piss, bum, cunt, willy, fanny, goo-goo, ga-ga. Tits, SHINY, big brother, breathe in, breathe out, blink, arse, poo. Dear Ofcom, I would like to complain in the strongest possible terms. Poop, Roy Chubby Brown, Hip Hop, X Factor, Tim Westwood!
If you enjoyed that, Hollyoaks is on soon.
*I’ve only ever seen this in American TV programmes and films. But I’m sure that’s a different rant all together.
Judge Arlene Philips (Someone Has To!)
The start of this year’s “Strictly Come Dancing” was never going to not court controversy, first off a few months back, Judge Arlene Philips was dropped for being too old, then came the signing of former winner Alesha Dixon, then they go and put it directly opposite ITV’s “X Factor”, prompting people to decide which of Saturday nighr’s myriad of colourful, increasingly befuddling television they wish to half watch. But seriously and honestly what kind of state is the nation’s collective consciousness in, when someone’s ability to judge a group of celebrities twirling and smiling for the nation’s affection and renewed interest int anything that they have to say or do, is called into question, prompting over 4,000 complaints! Can I please remind people, that at some stage in the series…YOU, yes, YOU MR/MISS “QUALIFIED TO JUDGE DANCERS!” get to vote them out of the show!
I’m seriously considering sending 4,000 complaints saying that the general public are too ill informed, and unqualified to judge them! All the voting lines should play a recorded message that says “Thank you for your vote, as you have no idea what the fuck you are on about or have any clue how to judge a dancing competition your vote has been put on a pile near an open window. Please keep watching as after the Ten O’Cclock News we will turn on a desk fan and blow all your collective votes out of the window and the winner will be decided by whoevers name lands on a chalk X in the car park! By the this call has cost you 75p! Feel happy now?”
If neccersary I will man the phones!
While we’re on the topic, the BBC’s decision to move “Strictly” up against “X Factor” is just a natural thing that has run for years and years now, I was seriously confused when both channels timed their soaps so that people get to see them all. Competing for ratings has been happing forever and a day! Let them fight it out! See who has the better show, or rather, how many more idiots would rather watch people prancing about, or belting out another power ballad. Make it it’s own show! I want to see Bruce Forsyth and Simon Cowell in a one on one fight to the death, my money’s on Forsyth.
As for my thoughts on the shows individually? I don’t watch neither. Or rather when I do it’s usually on the Sunday afternoon repeat, because let’s face it, Sunday telly, before 7pm, is awful.
One final, albeit tangental note, how awesome is ITV’s “The Cube”? A show that makes walking in a straight line, seem like it’s what people used to do on “The Krypton Factor” (come to think of it, there obviously was some walking in a straight line involved, but I think you get what I’m saying). The tasks on the show are fantastic because they seem simple enough that a lobotmised child could get their head round them, but in practice some of them are brilliantly, deceptively difficult. Try this one, take a cup or any kind of small object, smaller than one of your feet, taller than about 8 inches and strong enough to support your weight. Now stand on it with one foot and raise your other foot. Now stay “hovering” , without support for about 20 seconds. Go on try it. I bet, if you limit yourself to seven or eight goes, the longest you’ll reach is around sixteen or seventeen seconds.