Everyone has bad days. I suppose Monday's are notorious for them. You feel down, lethargic and worried that it's only the start of the week, wondering how you'll get through the rest.
But when I have a bad day I feel all those things and more. I was just playing with my son after getting in for the evening and he was screaming with laughter as I was tickling him. There probably isn't a better sound in the world that I could hear, my child deliriously happy. For a split second I was too but then my mind kicked in and reminded me I was having a bad day.
I was lying on the bed with my son and my wife playing and before I could do anything about it my mind went to my son dying and how our lives would be nothing. I think he had cancer. It's difficult to remember a lot of the diseases or accidents my mind makes my son befall, primarily because I don't want to remember them. I don't want my mind to come up with them. I don't want to feel the enormous pain of a loss that hasn't even happened.
But I do.
This has been a bad day because others around me have been unhappy. I have no idea why they were but to my mind that doesn't matter. It was my fault and I am terrified that I will have to suffer the consequences.
Mental illness is at times a very selfish condition. Your mind plays the tricks with you that everyone is against you, emotionally you are the centre of the universe with everyone saying bad things behind your back. Logically of course this isn't the case, everyone has better things to do with their time.
So tonight I will live in fear, fighting with my own mind to try to make it stop. I know it isn't real, I know that what I am afraid of isn't actually happening. But my mind won't let me accept that, there is a thought there that is hammering away continuously that it IS my fault. I am to blame. I will end up suffering. I don't really even know what it is that I'm at fault for but that doesn't matter, the thought is there. It's like there's clingfilm wrapped around my head and it can't get out.
Bad days suck for everyone. Bad days for those of us with mental health problems suck so much that they bring a fear that in a perfect world a fear that no one should ever have. A fear of being alive.
Monday, 25 May 2015
Wednesday, 15 April 2015
Fruitcake.
Let's get something straight...
I am a fruitcake, a nutcase, a loon, a fruitloop, a nutjob, a mentalist, a whatever other slang name for someone who's a bit off their rocker you can come up with.
A few weeks ago I was in the nuthouse, the funny farm, the loony bin or whatever else you want to call a psychiatric hospital.
During my time in the hospital (7 weeks if you're interested) and over the many years where I have had to deal with mental health issues I have met hundreds of people who are also affected. Now listen very carefully.... not one of these people are offended by any of the words and phrases above. In fact the vast majority of them use them on a daily basis to describe themselves and during my hospital stay myself and other patients laughed the most when we were talking to each other about the ridiculous things that entered our minds and how big of a loon we were.
When someone in the hospital got a bit precious about something they would be treated with empathy and it explained to them to lighten up. In no uncertain terms one day my psychologist told me "no one is thinking these things except you Gareth", imagine your worst school mistress from the 1920s and that's the tone she used. There's a time and place for treating people with kid gloves and even then you are never dishonest for the sake of someone's feelings. That does more harm than good.
I've written before about the difference between sympathy and empathy and that is again what is needed here.
In short if someone claims that you cannot joke about mental health issues the chances are that person has never actually suffered from a mental health issue and is only out to try and make themselves look good. Of course they're actually using people who do suffer to do this, which is really lovely isn't it.
If someone is actually suffering from a mental health issue and has somehow fallen under the spell of one of these charlatans and is complaining about jokes and how it's making them suffer more please put them on to me because it isn't and they are in real danger from these control freaks.
So there you have it, joke away. Or don't, after all what do I know, I'm a raving loon.
I am a fruitcake, a nutcase, a loon, a fruitloop, a nutjob, a mentalist, a whatever other slang name for someone who's a bit off their rocker you can come up with.
A few weeks ago I was in the nuthouse, the funny farm, the loony bin or whatever else you want to call a psychiatric hospital.
During my time in the hospital (7 weeks if you're interested) and over the many years where I have had to deal with mental health issues I have met hundreds of people who are also affected. Now listen very carefully.... not one of these people are offended by any of the words and phrases above. In fact the vast majority of them use them on a daily basis to describe themselves and during my hospital stay myself and other patients laughed the most when we were talking to each other about the ridiculous things that entered our minds and how big of a loon we were.
When someone in the hospital got a bit precious about something they would be treated with empathy and it explained to them to lighten up. In no uncertain terms one day my psychologist told me "no one is thinking these things except you Gareth", imagine your worst school mistress from the 1920s and that's the tone she used. There's a time and place for treating people with kid gloves and even then you are never dishonest for the sake of someone's feelings. That does more harm than good.
I've written before about the difference between sympathy and empathy and that is again what is needed here.
In short if someone claims that you cannot joke about mental health issues the chances are that person has never actually suffered from a mental health issue and is only out to try and make themselves look good. Of course they're actually using people who do suffer to do this, which is really lovely isn't it.
If someone is actually suffering from a mental health issue and has somehow fallen under the spell of one of these charlatans and is complaining about jokes and how it's making them suffer more please put them on to me because it isn't and they are in real danger from these control freaks.
So there you have it, joke away. Or don't, after all what do I know, I'm a raving loon.
Tuesday, 24 March 2015
Triggering a dose of the clap.
Today something called the National Union of Students Women's Conference happened in London. A normal type of event, nothing to write home about you would think. But something happened that I'm not sure a word has been invented yet to describe how unbelievable it was.
Well actually a lot of things happened but at the minute it is too difficult to decipher between what is real and what is being made up, but the thing that started it all was a request from someone attending the event that there be no clapping as the noise from people applauding caused some people to have an anxiety attack.
And it was agreed that no one would clap.
This raises so many questions that we would probably need to ask God for extra question marks but let's firstly ask ourselves a simple one... Can someone have an anxiety attack from other people clapping?
The simple and honest answer is... Yes.
But let's ask a second question... Should a crowd of people attending a conference not clap because one person (or indeed several people) might have an anxiety attack from it... ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOT.
Now at this moment there might be someone reading this who has gone into such fits of rage that even the Hulk might think about heading off for a coffee until they calm down, claiming something like "what do you know about anxiety attacks, you have no feelings for the poor person who would be suffering".
Well here's the thing: this Friday I will hopefully be discharged from a psychiatric hospital after a 7 week stay. Why have I been in here? Yep, you guessed it.... I suffer from an anxiety disorder. (Also depression but that can take a back seat here).
So I am well qualified to talk about triggers, stress, anxiety attacks and whatever other keywords the nice little student snowflakes have learned. I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that none of the people at the conference have actually studied psychiatry or psychology beyond a year of college if that and their only knowledge of anxiety attacks comes from some bullshit they've heard from God knows where.
Meanwhile I've spent over a decade in therapy, a stay in hospital and more hours than I could count reading and studying everything I can to try to find out more about my illness and hopefully beat it or at least enable me to have a quality of life worth living.
So here's what I would say if I had been the conference organiser today and someone had have came to me and asked that clapping be banned as it triggered their anxiety... "No."
I wouldn't be so blunt with them and if I honestly believed they had a real diagnosed (by an actual medical professional, not your auntie who's a Wiccan counsellor) disorder then I would sit and talk with them about it and explain that by granting their wishes I would actually be harming them. They would continue to see themselves as a victim where others must do their bidding because they are a victim and in the long run that will not happen so they will more than likely end up suffering from depression. (Again, actual depression, not the self-diagnosed I'm feeling a bit down stuff that so many come up with today. Actual depression has some actual symptoms which if they are not there then you aren't depressed in the medical sense.)
I would tell them what they need to do is either remove themselves from the place causing them anxiety until they feel they can handle it but what would probably be best for them would be to see if they could face their fear today and if they needed help doing that I'd be happy to try.
Here's the difference - I would be showing that person empathy. Those who would order everyone to stop clapping and say "ooh poor you" would be showing the person sympathy. One is helpful, the other is a horrid, sanctimonious way of harming the person suffering.
Anyone who is suffering from mental illness does not need your sympathy. You can fuck right off with it, we need empathy. If you don't want to be empathetic then just go away.
So if there actually was a person today at that conference (I'm still having trouble believing it all happened) who was suffering from anxiety due to clapping then please do not think that by the organiser banning applause that this has helped you. It has not, it has harmed you and you really need professional help to see why.
Now just in case there are the usual claims of "Oh you don't know what you're talking about, you don't have what they have" here's a very small example of what I have to go through. (A big example would be of how I think my son is dying every 5 mins but that's for another time).
I am actually "triggered" (that's a ridiculous word that's been rendered totally useless by idiot social justice warriors but I'll use it here as it's what they said today) by singing. Yes, you read that right - singing. Because of a long history of abuse, which we don't need to get into, people sitting around and having a "singsong" makes me feel extremely uncomfortable.
Now this being Ireland in the hospital here there's a common area and a few nights some people will start singing. I get very uncomfortable and agitated and the people who sing mostly know how this makes me feel. But do you know what happens? I simply get up and walk away and busy myself doing something else.
That's right, in a psychiatric hospital when a person is actually "triggered" there is no thought of banning whatever is the cause. Because it wouldn't help me. And it would obviously also be hugely selfish of me to expect others to do what I wanted.
At some stage I might be able to sit with others singing and not feel uncomfortable (that's the plan) but not at the minute. So I simply remove it from the equation, it's very simple.
Now if you actually have a mental health issue please don't hesitate to get in touch with me if you want to talk. If you think that people should stop clapping because someone is triggered please just fuck off.
Well actually a lot of things happened but at the minute it is too difficult to decipher between what is real and what is being made up, but the thing that started it all was a request from someone attending the event that there be no clapping as the noise from people applauding caused some people to have an anxiety attack.
And it was agreed that no one would clap.
This raises so many questions that we would probably need to ask God for extra question marks but let's firstly ask ourselves a simple one... Can someone have an anxiety attack from other people clapping?
The simple and honest answer is... Yes.
But let's ask a second question... Should a crowd of people attending a conference not clap because one person (or indeed several people) might have an anxiety attack from it... ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOT.
Now at this moment there might be someone reading this who has gone into such fits of rage that even the Hulk might think about heading off for a coffee until they calm down, claiming something like "what do you know about anxiety attacks, you have no feelings for the poor person who would be suffering".
Well here's the thing: this Friday I will hopefully be discharged from a psychiatric hospital after a 7 week stay. Why have I been in here? Yep, you guessed it.... I suffer from an anxiety disorder. (Also depression but that can take a back seat here).
So I am well qualified to talk about triggers, stress, anxiety attacks and whatever other keywords the nice little student snowflakes have learned. I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that none of the people at the conference have actually studied psychiatry or psychology beyond a year of college if that and their only knowledge of anxiety attacks comes from some bullshit they've heard from God knows where.
Meanwhile I've spent over a decade in therapy, a stay in hospital and more hours than I could count reading and studying everything I can to try to find out more about my illness and hopefully beat it or at least enable me to have a quality of life worth living.
So here's what I would say if I had been the conference organiser today and someone had have came to me and asked that clapping be banned as it triggered their anxiety... "No."
I wouldn't be so blunt with them and if I honestly believed they had a real diagnosed (by an actual medical professional, not your auntie who's a Wiccan counsellor) disorder then I would sit and talk with them about it and explain that by granting their wishes I would actually be harming them. They would continue to see themselves as a victim where others must do their bidding because they are a victim and in the long run that will not happen so they will more than likely end up suffering from depression. (Again, actual depression, not the self-diagnosed I'm feeling a bit down stuff that so many come up with today. Actual depression has some actual symptoms which if they are not there then you aren't depressed in the medical sense.)
I would tell them what they need to do is either remove themselves from the place causing them anxiety until they feel they can handle it but what would probably be best for them would be to see if they could face their fear today and if they needed help doing that I'd be happy to try.
Here's the difference - I would be showing that person empathy. Those who would order everyone to stop clapping and say "ooh poor you" would be showing the person sympathy. One is helpful, the other is a horrid, sanctimonious way of harming the person suffering.
Anyone who is suffering from mental illness does not need your sympathy. You can fuck right off with it, we need empathy. If you don't want to be empathetic then just go away.
So if there actually was a person today at that conference (I'm still having trouble believing it all happened) who was suffering from anxiety due to clapping then please do not think that by the organiser banning applause that this has helped you. It has not, it has harmed you and you really need professional help to see why.
Now just in case there are the usual claims of "Oh you don't know what you're talking about, you don't have what they have" here's a very small example of what I have to go through. (A big example would be of how I think my son is dying every 5 mins but that's for another time).
I am actually "triggered" (that's a ridiculous word that's been rendered totally useless by idiot social justice warriors but I'll use it here as it's what they said today) by singing. Yes, you read that right - singing. Because of a long history of abuse, which we don't need to get into, people sitting around and having a "singsong" makes me feel extremely uncomfortable.
Now this being Ireland in the hospital here there's a common area and a few nights some people will start singing. I get very uncomfortable and agitated and the people who sing mostly know how this makes me feel. But do you know what happens? I simply get up and walk away and busy myself doing something else.
That's right, in a psychiatric hospital when a person is actually "triggered" there is no thought of banning whatever is the cause. Because it wouldn't help me. And it would obviously also be hugely selfish of me to expect others to do what I wanted.
At some stage I might be able to sit with others singing and not feel uncomfortable (that's the plan) but not at the minute. So I simply remove it from the equation, it's very simple.
Now if you actually have a mental health issue please don't hesitate to get in touch with me if you want to talk. If you think that people should stop clapping because someone is triggered please just fuck off.
Monday, 23 March 2015
Al Murray, The Pub Landlord - a review.
No one wants to be bald. You're made fun of regularly and there's even research that shows bald people are discriminated against when it comes to employment. So for those of us that are the thought of a man deliberately shaving his head to appear bald makes us fear that he must be some sort of super-villain as only a deranged megalomaniac could possibly want to appear bald when they are not.
Yet this is what Al Murray has been doing for over a decade now and rather than attempt world domination he simply wants to appear bald for his alter-ego character of the Pub Landlord. And thankfully rather than being deranged he is instead extremely funny, very likable and seemingly, despite his huge success, a very down-to-earth individual.
I last saw Murray in Vicar St over 10 years ago and unfortunately due to circumstances beyond my control I had to leave before the end of the show. Back then the Pub Landlord screamed across the stage for his entrance on a specially constructed drive-able bar, throwing lettuce and booze over the front few rows.
This time the entrance was much more sedate, with his helper "Igor" simply leaving a pint of lager on a single table with the Pub Landlord meandering his way on stage a few minutes later. Murray doesn't use a warm-up act, an act in itself which is seldom seen with top name comedians these days, but he does not suffer from not having one. The ease with which he immediately engrosses his audience is masterful, even with a character that most will have seen before and whose act has not changed to any great extent since its inception 20 years ago.
This iteration of the Pub Landlord seems to be toned down from previous outings, with the earlier theatrics that I mentioned missing and less of the bounding around stage we saw previously. Perhaps it's just because Murray is now approaching 50, and that can be excused but the act in no way suffers from the lower levels of energy that it previously had. In fact now that the Landlord seems to have mellowed slightly it enables Murray to use the character to delve deeper into the everyday things that frustrate him and provide a more detailed satirical look at them and his act is all the better for this.
Murray's greatest assets are his memory and intelligence. He effortlessly memorises at least 10 audience member names and will call on them at any time throughout his act. Of course he will pick someone young, someone old etc. to incorporate that into his comedy but the feat of remembering all these people's names while performing your act (and having a few pints at the same time) is unique in today's comedy world and Murray deserves special praise for it.
While he may play a character whose intelligence is somewhat suspect, which of course is the point, Murray's can only be described as encyclopedic, especially when it comes to World War 2. He makes great use of this intelligence in his act but never once comes across patronising or sanctimonious and he can go on a thunderous monologue about extremely detailed geopolitics and military issues, which if most of the audience read outside of the show would leave them asleep instead here has them in raptures as the energy and comic timing with which Murray delivers it is superb.
Murray hasn't fallen into the trap of angry old man as have, unfortunately, many of his peers and he doesn't only go down one road when mocking any issue, be it politics or anything else, everything is up for discussion. For this he should be commended as it is something seldom seen in comedy these days.
We are continually subjected to horrendously dire comedy on TV these days, be it Michael McIntyre telling us that he's very smart and has funny hair so we should laugh, or the awful Dara O'Briain wallowing in his own sanctimony and helpfully providing pauses which I am not sure whether he wants us to laugh during or instead tell him how magnificent he is. Al Murray isn't on TV as much as he used to be but thankfully this means he continues to tour and we are all the better for that. You should go and see his show if you get the chance, he truly is a masterful comedian and in my view one of the best working today.
Yet this is what Al Murray has been doing for over a decade now and rather than attempt world domination he simply wants to appear bald for his alter-ego character of the Pub Landlord. And thankfully rather than being deranged he is instead extremely funny, very likable and seemingly, despite his huge success, a very down-to-earth individual.
I last saw Murray in Vicar St over 10 years ago and unfortunately due to circumstances beyond my control I had to leave before the end of the show. Back then the Pub Landlord screamed across the stage for his entrance on a specially constructed drive-able bar, throwing lettuce and booze over the front few rows.
This time the entrance was much more sedate, with his helper "Igor" simply leaving a pint of lager on a single table with the Pub Landlord meandering his way on stage a few minutes later. Murray doesn't use a warm-up act, an act in itself which is seldom seen with top name comedians these days, but he does not suffer from not having one. The ease with which he immediately engrosses his audience is masterful, even with a character that most will have seen before and whose act has not changed to any great extent since its inception 20 years ago.
This iteration of the Pub Landlord seems to be toned down from previous outings, with the earlier theatrics that I mentioned missing and less of the bounding around stage we saw previously. Perhaps it's just because Murray is now approaching 50, and that can be excused but the act in no way suffers from the lower levels of energy that it previously had. In fact now that the Landlord seems to have mellowed slightly it enables Murray to use the character to delve deeper into the everyday things that frustrate him and provide a more detailed satirical look at them and his act is all the better for this.
Murray's greatest assets are his memory and intelligence. He effortlessly memorises at least 10 audience member names and will call on them at any time throughout his act. Of course he will pick someone young, someone old etc. to incorporate that into his comedy but the feat of remembering all these people's names while performing your act (and having a few pints at the same time) is unique in today's comedy world and Murray deserves special praise for it.
While he may play a character whose intelligence is somewhat suspect, which of course is the point, Murray's can only be described as encyclopedic, especially when it comes to World War 2. He makes great use of this intelligence in his act but never once comes across patronising or sanctimonious and he can go on a thunderous monologue about extremely detailed geopolitics and military issues, which if most of the audience read outside of the show would leave them asleep instead here has them in raptures as the energy and comic timing with which Murray delivers it is superb.
Murray hasn't fallen into the trap of angry old man as have, unfortunately, many of his peers and he doesn't only go down one road when mocking any issue, be it politics or anything else, everything is up for discussion. For this he should be commended as it is something seldom seen in comedy these days.
We are continually subjected to horrendously dire comedy on TV these days, be it Michael McIntyre telling us that he's very smart and has funny hair so we should laugh, or the awful Dara O'Briain wallowing in his own sanctimony and helpfully providing pauses which I am not sure whether he wants us to laugh during or instead tell him how magnificent he is. Al Murray isn't on TV as much as he used to be but thankfully this means he continues to tour and we are all the better for that. You should go and see his show if you get the chance, he truly is a masterful comedian and in my view one of the best working today.
Friday, 7 March 2014
Nail on head.
It must be difficult for those without mental health issues to understand just what it is like for those living with them, so I'm going to try to explain it...
Hold out your hand. Now imagine there is a 6 inch nail directly through the middle of your palm.
You can see both ends of it and it looks and feels extremely painful. It's been there for as long as you can remember, in fact you don't really know how it got there.
More than anything in the world you want to pull it out. But you don't know how to. You ask yourself how can you not know how to pull it out, it's right there for goodness sake, but you have no answer. You call yourself an idiot for being too stupid to not know how to take the nail out.
Other people tell you to pull out the nail. You tell them that you can't. They don't understand what you mean, just do it they say. You can't, you try to explain, you don't know why you can't explain, they get confused, you both get angry.
The nail is affecting everything else in your life. You muddle through and do things because you have to. The pain gets worse. You start not doing things because that means the pain doesn't hurt so bad, but it's still there.
Soon you are doing nothing.
But the nail is still there. So is the pain. You focus on the nail, you hate it. Nothing else gets a look in but the nail. People close to you start to back off because you are fixated on this nail. They still wonder why you just can't pull it out.
The nail starts to infect the rest of your body. Other things are sore because of it. You forget about them because the nail is the cause and you think that if you can remove it then everything else will be fixed. You still can't remove it. Everything else gets worse.
There's just you and the nail now. Nothing or no one else matters. They're still there, you can see and hear them but they don't understand that you must concentrate on this nail otherwise you'll never be able to get it out.
Something distracts you from the nail for a few minutes. You hide the hand with the nail in it behind your back. No one else sees it, you look like a normal person. But the nail is still hurting. You want to stay with the normal people, you are having fun talking to them, people like you.
But the pain from this damn nail is getting worse. You excuse yourself. Maybe if you just have some time alone you'll be able to pull the nail out. It's just there after all, it's simple, just pull it out.
You can't.
Hold out your hand. Now imagine there is a 6 inch nail directly through the middle of your palm.
You can see both ends of it and it looks and feels extremely painful. It's been there for as long as you can remember, in fact you don't really know how it got there.
More than anything in the world you want to pull it out. But you don't know how to. You ask yourself how can you not know how to pull it out, it's right there for goodness sake, but you have no answer. You call yourself an idiot for being too stupid to not know how to take the nail out.
Other people tell you to pull out the nail. You tell them that you can't. They don't understand what you mean, just do it they say. You can't, you try to explain, you don't know why you can't explain, they get confused, you both get angry.
The nail is affecting everything else in your life. You muddle through and do things because you have to. The pain gets worse. You start not doing things because that means the pain doesn't hurt so bad, but it's still there.
Soon you are doing nothing.
But the nail is still there. So is the pain. You focus on the nail, you hate it. Nothing else gets a look in but the nail. People close to you start to back off because you are fixated on this nail. They still wonder why you just can't pull it out.
The nail starts to infect the rest of your body. Other things are sore because of it. You forget about them because the nail is the cause and you think that if you can remove it then everything else will be fixed. You still can't remove it. Everything else gets worse.
There's just you and the nail now. Nothing or no one else matters. They're still there, you can see and hear them but they don't understand that you must concentrate on this nail otherwise you'll never be able to get it out.
Something distracts you from the nail for a few minutes. You hide the hand with the nail in it behind your back. No one else sees it, you look like a normal person. But the nail is still hurting. You want to stay with the normal people, you are having fun talking to them, people like you.
But the pain from this damn nail is getting worse. You excuse yourself. Maybe if you just have some time alone you'll be able to pull the nail out. It's just there after all, it's simple, just pull it out.
You can't.
Wednesday, 26 February 2014
Up the Republic!
Latest news from the basket case that is Ireland...
It has been proven that our police cannot be trusted and need to be investigated. We cannot get our politicians to investigate them because it has been proven they cannot be trusted either.
So we have decided to get someone to investigate both from that most trustworthy of all groups... lawyers.
It has been proven that our police cannot be trusted and need to be investigated. We cannot get our politicians to investigate them because it has been proven they cannot be trusted either.
So we have decided to get someone to investigate both from that most trustworthy of all groups... lawyers.
Monday, 17 February 2014
The darkness descends...
My son is running around. He is enjoying himself. There's laughter and mirth. With every passing second of me seeing this I hate myself just a little bit more. He doesn't deserve such a useless lump as a father. Sitting. Festering. Not even dying, not even existing, just... there.
Tears stream. Thoughts stream faster. All negative. All bad. Trying to think positive, it doesn't work. It is one of those days. Remind myself that future days will be better, then use that as a reason to feel worse about myself now. You are failing I say. Today I agree.
There's nothing more to say. One of those days. It'll go away soon. I hope.
Tears stream. Thoughts stream faster. All negative. All bad. Trying to think positive, it doesn't work. It is one of those days. Remind myself that future days will be better, then use that as a reason to feel worse about myself now. You are failing I say. Today I agree.
There's nothing more to say. One of those days. It'll go away soon. I hope.
Friday, 14 February 2014
Life begins at 40.
By the time they hit 40 most people will have their lives figured out and be well on the way to, if not at the top, of their chosen career. Or they will at least have a job that they enjoy and which allows them to live a happy family life. There may even be the fleeting thought of retirement, no doubt provisions having already been made in that regard.
I'm a bit different; I have no job, no career and absolutely no real clue what I want to do with the rest of my life. The difficult thing I have to fight at the moment is the thoughts that there is no point in even trying because it is too late, my life is already over. My depression and anxiety will throw a million different reasons at me to do nothing but sit and wallow, but for now I don't want to think about those. I want to talk about how I got here and how sympathy is probably the worst thing you can give someone like me.
My childhood was an absolute mess. There was bullying, there was fear, there was loneliness both at home and in school. If I had to describe my life until my teens in one word it would be; alone. By far the biggest cause of all of this was the continual emotional abuse I received at the hands of my parents. It was unrelenting, a never-ending life of nonsense that is actually difficult to put into words. Not because of any emotional reason or that I have forgotten about it, I have cried enough in therapy to cause floods like we have seen in the last few days, but because it was such a jumbled mess of anger, abuse, emotional blackmail and whatever else you can think of thrown into the mix. From the outside it looked like an ideal world, as most abusive households do, but living through it was hell. And now trying to process it all and restart my life in a normal manner is hell again.
But the purpose of this post is not to regale you with tales of horror, it is to try to explain to you how dealing with someone like me by offering sympathy instead of empathy will do nothing but lead me further down the hole of self-pitying victimhood.
As simply as I can put it, if I were to sit down with you and discuss all the bullshit my parents inflicted on me there are two simple roads you can take (assuming you don't just run away, which would be understandable), one of sympathy and one of empathy. Sympathy will probably lead to a long conversation of how horrible my parents were and that they should be made to pay and how none of it was my fault. This is all pointless. It will get me nowhere, the conversation focuses on my parents.
Empathy is different. Empathy means you will listen, you might not even say anything. You will just understand as best as you are able. And if you understand that will lead to you doing the right thing, as empathy at its most basic is putting yourself in someone else's shoes. If you do that you would realise that someone like me lacks self-worth and no amount of talking about how bad my abusers were will give me that.
These were hugely difficult concepts for me to get my head around, primarily of course because I was brought up in a house where empathy did not exist, but I hope I have managed to get them across. The reason I have tried to do so is because I see so many today walking around with mental health problems as a badge of honour. They are wallowing in victimhood and are fed by a media who doesn't understand and who probably thinks that talk of the abusers will get more viewers, listeners or readers. It might well do but it is doing harm to a lot of people.
For all intents and purposes everyone with mental health issues should be focusing on themselves and in a positive way. That is difficult, hugely difficult for someone like me, but if you see me wallowing in self-pity you shouldn't be afraid to tell me so just because some others might accuse you of not dealing with mental health in the "correct" way. Trust me, I HAVE to do stuff to get out of this, I HAVE to figure out where my life is going and I HAVE to walk down that path. If you tell me that I need to move my fat ass instead of telling me that I am entitled to sit and wallow because of the way I was treated then you will be doing me a favour. And I am in no way unique.
I'm a bit different; I have no job, no career and absolutely no real clue what I want to do with the rest of my life. The difficult thing I have to fight at the moment is the thoughts that there is no point in even trying because it is too late, my life is already over. My depression and anxiety will throw a million different reasons at me to do nothing but sit and wallow, but for now I don't want to think about those. I want to talk about how I got here and how sympathy is probably the worst thing you can give someone like me.
My childhood was an absolute mess. There was bullying, there was fear, there was loneliness both at home and in school. If I had to describe my life until my teens in one word it would be; alone. By far the biggest cause of all of this was the continual emotional abuse I received at the hands of my parents. It was unrelenting, a never-ending life of nonsense that is actually difficult to put into words. Not because of any emotional reason or that I have forgotten about it, I have cried enough in therapy to cause floods like we have seen in the last few days, but because it was such a jumbled mess of anger, abuse, emotional blackmail and whatever else you can think of thrown into the mix. From the outside it looked like an ideal world, as most abusive households do, but living through it was hell. And now trying to process it all and restart my life in a normal manner is hell again.
But the purpose of this post is not to regale you with tales of horror, it is to try to explain to you how dealing with someone like me by offering sympathy instead of empathy will do nothing but lead me further down the hole of self-pitying victimhood.
As simply as I can put it, if I were to sit down with you and discuss all the bullshit my parents inflicted on me there are two simple roads you can take (assuming you don't just run away, which would be understandable), one of sympathy and one of empathy. Sympathy will probably lead to a long conversation of how horrible my parents were and that they should be made to pay and how none of it was my fault. This is all pointless. It will get me nowhere, the conversation focuses on my parents.
Empathy is different. Empathy means you will listen, you might not even say anything. You will just understand as best as you are able. And if you understand that will lead to you doing the right thing, as empathy at its most basic is putting yourself in someone else's shoes. If you do that you would realise that someone like me lacks self-worth and no amount of talking about how bad my abusers were will give me that.
These were hugely difficult concepts for me to get my head around, primarily of course because I was brought up in a house where empathy did not exist, but I hope I have managed to get them across. The reason I have tried to do so is because I see so many today walking around with mental health problems as a badge of honour. They are wallowing in victimhood and are fed by a media who doesn't understand and who probably thinks that talk of the abusers will get more viewers, listeners or readers. It might well do but it is doing harm to a lot of people.
For all intents and purposes everyone with mental health issues should be focusing on themselves and in a positive way. That is difficult, hugely difficult for someone like me, but if you see me wallowing in self-pity you shouldn't be afraid to tell me so just because some others might accuse you of not dealing with mental health in the "correct" way. Trust me, I HAVE to do stuff to get out of this, I HAVE to figure out where my life is going and I HAVE to walk down that path. If you tell me that I need to move my fat ass instead of telling me that I am entitled to sit and wallow because of the way I was treated then you will be doing me a favour. And I am in no way unique.
Friday, 7 February 2014
Every day the laughter dies.
If you gave me a choice between attending a music concert in a state-of-the-art venue with tickets to a private box including free food & drink or going to a grubby comedy club next door where there's holes in the seats and you are overcharged for whichever one of the two types of alcohol on offer you choose, then there is no choice. The comedy club would win every time.
The comedians may be crap and the clientele a bit smelly but you will at least get one thing at some stage during the night that will make you think. I don't get that from music, never have. The only thing that music has ever made me think is "how does this cunt keep getting away with it?" when I remember Bono exists.
But I can't laugh any more. I could listen to one of the few comedic geniuses we have left and while I might crack a smile or even snigger it will be gone within seconds. Laughter means happiness and depression doesn't do happiness. Before the thought may have been one of dissecting the joke and mentally congratulating the comic now there is only "why didn't you think of that you useless cunt".
There are so many shit comics around these days, peddling either political bullshit masquerading as comedy, falling over while wearing funny clothes or just trying to say the most outrageous thing possible without giving regard to it actually being funny that now should be a time where, contrary to popular belief, it is not horrendously difficult to break through. There are people out there desperate for real comedy.
And then of course there's the point that you should be doing it for yourself, if you find it funny then other people will, you aren't unique in that regard after all. But none of that makes any difference, in my head I am useless and there's no point in doing anything for myself because I have absolutely no self-worth.
I know somewhere deep down inside me there is the capability to be funny. Sometime it creeps out but the problem is that it needs to be nurtured, molded and trained into something that can work. The depression keeps it buried. In fact it doesn't just bury it, it comes along with a big shovel and smacks it around the head first just to make sure it doesn't get any more ideas.
Here's how it goes and I imagine this is probably the same for anyone with depression for whatever true career that they would like to have...
Think or say something funny.......... no that's not funny you useless cunt, that first line was appalling, people will fucking laugh at you all right but because you're a stupid cunt. Anyone who told you that was funny is just saying it to try and make you feel better because they know you're a stupid depressed asshole. You're not funny, if you were you'd have done something with it by now. You're almost 40 you fucking twat, people don't start being funny at your age asshole.
I could go on but the tears are coming. It's sickening. It's depressing. It's every fucking day.
The comedians may be crap and the clientele a bit smelly but you will at least get one thing at some stage during the night that will make you think. I don't get that from music, never have. The only thing that music has ever made me think is "how does this cunt keep getting away with it?" when I remember Bono exists.
But I can't laugh any more. I could listen to one of the few comedic geniuses we have left and while I might crack a smile or even snigger it will be gone within seconds. Laughter means happiness and depression doesn't do happiness. Before the thought may have been one of dissecting the joke and mentally congratulating the comic now there is only "why didn't you think of that you useless cunt".
There are so many shit comics around these days, peddling either political bullshit masquerading as comedy, falling over while wearing funny clothes or just trying to say the most outrageous thing possible without giving regard to it actually being funny that now should be a time where, contrary to popular belief, it is not horrendously difficult to break through. There are people out there desperate for real comedy.
And then of course there's the point that you should be doing it for yourself, if you find it funny then other people will, you aren't unique in that regard after all. But none of that makes any difference, in my head I am useless and there's no point in doing anything for myself because I have absolutely no self-worth.
I know somewhere deep down inside me there is the capability to be funny. Sometime it creeps out but the problem is that it needs to be nurtured, molded and trained into something that can work. The depression keeps it buried. In fact it doesn't just bury it, it comes along with a big shovel and smacks it around the head first just to make sure it doesn't get any more ideas.
Here's how it goes and I imagine this is probably the same for anyone with depression for whatever true career that they would like to have...
Think or say something funny.......... no that's not funny you useless cunt, that first line was appalling, people will fucking laugh at you all right but because you're a stupid cunt. Anyone who told you that was funny is just saying it to try and make you feel better because they know you're a stupid depressed asshole. You're not funny, if you were you'd have done something with it by now. You're almost 40 you fucking twat, people don't start being funny at your age asshole.
I could go on but the tears are coming. It's sickening. It's depressing. It's every fucking day.
Monday, 3 February 2014
The "Top Reds" must now be vanquished.
David Moyes is gone. Finished. It is only a matter of time. The ineptitude that was so clear to so many before he walked through the door at Carrington last June now hits you so hard in the face that everyone who watches United knows what it was like to face Mike Tyson in his prime.
We all knew it would be this way. Moyes has always been a bad manager, he just happened to be part of the furniture at an Everton team where avoiding relegation was a success. The fact that he was there for a decade is, contrary to popular belief, not a sign of his talent. It is the opposite, it shows just how useless he is. How many times in the 10 years Moyes was at Goodison did a club above them approach him to be their manager? I certainly don't remember any but what everyone will remember is how many times in that decade were other teams looking for a good manager. Hundreds, and none of them ever thought to go for Moyes. Imagine for a second the stick United fans would have given City or Chelsea had they used Moyes as one of their many coaches. And all of it would have been deserved.
So why then was Moyes accepted at United? Simple, the man who could do no wrong picked him. Sir Alex Ferguson could have demanded the removal of George Best's statue outside Old Trafford, giving the excuse that he wasn't a good role model to some of the young players coming through, and there wouldn't have been a peep from a section of fans and any discontent from others would have quickly been silenced.
The truth is that for all his success Fergie made plenty of mistakes when he was at United. He should have won the European Cup at least three more times and not have lost the league at least twice. Is it greed to want these as well as the success we had? Of course it is, but this is about winning, if you aren't supporting a football team and wanting to win everything then you're doing it wrong.
Fergie was above criticism though and it wasn't only his success that kept him there. It was the so-called "Top Red". The section of United fans who consider themselves somehow 'better' fans. The devoted, the loyal, the one true fan. They have sat atop their ivory towers for years, using insults to control the mere ordinary fans below them.
Now they cry for Moyes to be given more time, they remind us that Fergie was even though this was a different age and United were an abject failure when Fergie took over. They say that anyone calling for Moyes to be sacked is not a real United fan. What is a real fan anyway, is there an official test? Do FIFA have a handbook to guide you? Can you be an unreal fan?
The thing is that the 'Top Reds' are not United fans. They don't care in the slightest what happens to United, all they want is for people to see them as better than everyone else. And they want to control.
Well now is the time that we must take back control. However you want to be a United fan is up to you, if this means calling for Moyes head then so be it. Do not let those who have no real interest in the club control you into tempering your passion, direct that passion where it is deserved; towards an mediocre manager and the clubs owners who now must sack him. The sooner the better. He is destroying the club more each day, a title winning side that has added £60million (Fellaini & Mata) worth of players and brought up one of the best young prospects in a long time (Janujaz) now is not even being laughed off the pitch after being beaten by a Stoke side managed by Mark Hughes. There is no laughter because it is expected, even the United haters can't be bothered laughing any more, in the space of 10 months things have become that bad.
All caused because the last man on earth who should have been picking the next United manager did. Ferguson's massive ego may have helped bring success but it also brought failure and stupid decisions, this one being the biggest.
Forget about the 'Top Reds', consign them to the same dustbin to which Moyes' reign must be sent immediately.
We all knew it would be this way. Moyes has always been a bad manager, he just happened to be part of the furniture at an Everton team where avoiding relegation was a success. The fact that he was there for a decade is, contrary to popular belief, not a sign of his talent. It is the opposite, it shows just how useless he is. How many times in the 10 years Moyes was at Goodison did a club above them approach him to be their manager? I certainly don't remember any but what everyone will remember is how many times in that decade were other teams looking for a good manager. Hundreds, and none of them ever thought to go for Moyes. Imagine for a second the stick United fans would have given City or Chelsea had they used Moyes as one of their many coaches. And all of it would have been deserved.
So why then was Moyes accepted at United? Simple, the man who could do no wrong picked him. Sir Alex Ferguson could have demanded the removal of George Best's statue outside Old Trafford, giving the excuse that he wasn't a good role model to some of the young players coming through, and there wouldn't have been a peep from a section of fans and any discontent from others would have quickly been silenced.
The truth is that for all his success Fergie made plenty of mistakes when he was at United. He should have won the European Cup at least three more times and not have lost the league at least twice. Is it greed to want these as well as the success we had? Of course it is, but this is about winning, if you aren't supporting a football team and wanting to win everything then you're doing it wrong.
Fergie was above criticism though and it wasn't only his success that kept him there. It was the so-called "Top Red". The section of United fans who consider themselves somehow 'better' fans. The devoted, the loyal, the one true fan. They have sat atop their ivory towers for years, using insults to control the mere ordinary fans below them.
Now they cry for Moyes to be given more time, they remind us that Fergie was even though this was a different age and United were an abject failure when Fergie took over. They say that anyone calling for Moyes to be sacked is not a real United fan. What is a real fan anyway, is there an official test? Do FIFA have a handbook to guide you? Can you be an unreal fan?
The thing is that the 'Top Reds' are not United fans. They don't care in the slightest what happens to United, all they want is for people to see them as better than everyone else. And they want to control.
Well now is the time that we must take back control. However you want to be a United fan is up to you, if this means calling for Moyes head then so be it. Do not let those who have no real interest in the club control you into tempering your passion, direct that passion where it is deserved; towards an mediocre manager and the clubs owners who now must sack him. The sooner the better. He is destroying the club more each day, a title winning side that has added £60million (Fellaini & Mata) worth of players and brought up one of the best young prospects in a long time (Janujaz) now is not even being laughed off the pitch after being beaten by a Stoke side managed by Mark Hughes. There is no laughter because it is expected, even the United haters can't be bothered laughing any more, in the space of 10 months things have become that bad.
All caused because the last man on earth who should have been picking the next United manager did. Ferguson's massive ego may have helped bring success but it also brought failure and stupid decisions, this one being the biggest.
Forget about the 'Top Reds', consign them to the same dustbin to which Moyes' reign must be sent immediately.
Tuesday, 28 January 2014
So you think you don't like me?
A lot of people don't like me. This isn't some sort of depressive nonsense where I am being self-pitying or wanting sympathy, there really are a lot of people who don't like me. Some might even hate me, I don't know. All of these people could make up one long line, but none of them would be at the front. None of their dislike, hatred or even loathing could come close to the person at the head of the line.... me.
I hate myself. I don't just feel down about myself, it's not just a lack of self-worth, I actually do hate myself. With every single good thought I have about myself there is ALWAYS one that follows which tells me why the good thought I had was wrong. But it doesn't just stop there, it tells me why I am such an absolute cunt for even thinking the good thought in the first place.
Some people legitimately don't like me because of the things I say, sometimes I go "too far". This is usually because I am trying to get someone else or another group of people to like me, the opposites of the people who now don't like me.
Do you see what is going on here? I spend so much time wondering what other people are thinking about me. This shows a clear case of low self-worth in that I have to get it from others. But the stupid thing is that I am always thinking that other people are thinking about me, this is narcissism of the highest degree and one of the ironic things about mental health issues, you have polar opposites seemingly living together side by side in your head.
The really crappy thing is that I know that I'm being all of these things and that means that I get to hate myself even more because even though I know what they all are I can't stop them. There's one poor woman on Twitter (you know who you are) who, despite her experience in mental health, can't figure out what I believe about loads of stuff. The problem is, neither can I.
The truth of the matter is that I was conditioned into being this way. I was brought up in a world where up was down, black was white, day was night and there were no borders. A world of abuse. I actually didn't even know the word "borders" meant anything to do with emotions or physicality until I was in my 30s and my therapist explained it to me. Part of me finds that hilarious, party of me finds it sad and, rightly, blames my parents on it but of course another part of me hates myself for it because somehow I "should" have known it. And it's no one but my own fault that I didn't.
This is just a small part of what it's like in the mind of someone mentally ill. There is no sense, it is a jumble of everything and yet nothing all at the same time.
Basically it is the mind of a child. Because the people who were supposed to mold me as a child into an adult made me into something else completely, something that makes no sense. And then in my 30s I had to go back to being a child so I could learn everything again properly. Without abuse.
I hate myself. I don't just feel down about myself, it's not just a lack of self-worth, I actually do hate myself. With every single good thought I have about myself there is ALWAYS one that follows which tells me why the good thought I had was wrong. But it doesn't just stop there, it tells me why I am such an absolute cunt for even thinking the good thought in the first place.
Some people legitimately don't like me because of the things I say, sometimes I go "too far". This is usually because I am trying to get someone else or another group of people to like me, the opposites of the people who now don't like me.
Do you see what is going on here? I spend so much time wondering what other people are thinking about me. This shows a clear case of low self-worth in that I have to get it from others. But the stupid thing is that I am always thinking that other people are thinking about me, this is narcissism of the highest degree and one of the ironic things about mental health issues, you have polar opposites seemingly living together side by side in your head.
The really crappy thing is that I know that I'm being all of these things and that means that I get to hate myself even more because even though I know what they all are I can't stop them. There's one poor woman on Twitter (you know who you are) who, despite her experience in mental health, can't figure out what I believe about loads of stuff. The problem is, neither can I.
The truth of the matter is that I was conditioned into being this way. I was brought up in a world where up was down, black was white, day was night and there were no borders. A world of abuse. I actually didn't even know the word "borders" meant anything to do with emotions or physicality until I was in my 30s and my therapist explained it to me. Part of me finds that hilarious, party of me finds it sad and, rightly, blames my parents on it but of course another part of me hates myself for it because somehow I "should" have known it. And it's no one but my own fault that I didn't.
This is just a small part of what it's like in the mind of someone mentally ill. There is no sense, it is a jumble of everything and yet nothing all at the same time.
Basically it is the mind of a child. Because the people who were supposed to mold me as a child into an adult made me into something else completely, something that makes no sense. And then in my 30s I had to go back to being a child so I could learn everything again properly. Without abuse.
Friday, 24 January 2014
So you think you've got a handle on mental health?
Think you can handle mental health issues? No, I mean actual mental health issues. Not just the feeling down all the time, not just the wondering is anything ever going to change. The real stuff. The ugliness that perpetuates those feelings. The truth.
Well here then, read on. But be warned.... it's about to get fucking ugly.
I was just in the shower. Whether there was an actual sound or not I don't know, but my brain told me there was one. Couldn't concentrate on it but it sounded vaguely like a child scream. My 3yo son was in the living room watching television, less than 20ft away. That was it. That was enough. The vision came.
I saw him lying on the floor. His head was split open. Blood was everywhere. So were his brains. He had fallen and hit his head on the floor. I saw myself come in. Now I was screaming. A blood curdling scream. Life was over. I couldn't go on. In my head I was going to kill myself. But wait, what about my wife, I had to tell her, I couldn't kill myself straight away, I had to wait. I saw her scream. The same noise. Beyond loud.
All of that happened within a space of about 3 seconds. While I was in the shower. All in my head. Because of a sound that probably didn't even occur.
This is mental health issues. This happens four or five times a day sometimes. Four or five times an hour other days. It happens when I sleep. It never really stops.
What are you meant to do? Can you just stop? No. Do I want to ever experience a thought in my head again where I see my son like that. Something I can barely even write down it causes so much pain? Of course I fucking don't. But I know I will and I don't know when it will stop. If it ever will. This is depression. This is helplessness. This is life.
Now I'll go to the shop with my son and buy him an ice cream when I stop crying. The woman in the shop will see the same smiling guy she sees every day and say "Hi". Little does she know. Little do any of you know.
Sometimes it makes me angry. Wouldn't you be angry? Of course I'm fucking angry that I have to live this way. The anger of course is really with others. The ones who caused this. The ones who treated me so badly as a child. But it's not easy to figure that out on your own when your head is full of such complete and utter bullshit. Therapy helps but no one can have their therapist around 24 hours a day. So if I'm angry cut me some fucking slack. Don't pity me. Just understand.
I'm trying to press the "publish" button for this. I can barely see it through the tears.
I am afraid.
I am always afraid.
I am afraid.
I am always afraid.
Monday, 30 August 2010
What happened America, you used to be cool.
The 80s were shit. Seriously shit. There was bad music, bad fashion and ridiculous hair. But then again i was a teenager for some of it and everything was shit.
Except America. America was cool. I dunno how you managed it but you were. You had an idiot actor for president but you still were cool.
Perhaps it was because everything was big. Big movies, big movie stars, even bigger movie explosions. There were big buildings and big cars. Now all that seems to be big are the egos and the portion sizes.
Then there was the space shuttle. Granted that probably didn't come close to the moon landing days but it was the first I saw of NASA and it was fucking awesome. Basically a bus that went into space, how cool was that?
Now there's no space exploration. Just desert exploration. With guns and tanks. What happened to all the space stuff? Seriously, space stuff is super cool, why don't you do it any more?
It hurts me America. I used to look up to you. When something needed doing you did it. You didn't shirk a challenge and simply showed the rest of the world the way to go.
You even out-comedy'd the English for a while. I mean you can still make brilliant comedies but now they seem lost in the humongous ocean of crap tv that is reality shows and political/religious sermons masquerading as news.
I still try to stick up for you America but you are making it harder every day. When one of my fellow Europeans makes fun of you I try to tell them about my cool American friends. I try to tell them to look at a website where Americans are still funny, hilariously funny, or one where they still care about the rest of the world. But they just end up seeing the idiots on Fox News and my point is lost.
Please America, I want the cool you back.
Except America. America was cool. I dunno how you managed it but you were. You had an idiot actor for president but you still were cool.
Perhaps it was because everything was big. Big movies, big movie stars, even bigger movie explosions. There were big buildings and big cars. Now all that seems to be big are the egos and the portion sizes.
Then there was the space shuttle. Granted that probably didn't come close to the moon landing days but it was the first I saw of NASA and it was fucking awesome. Basically a bus that went into space, how cool was that?
Now there's no space exploration. Just desert exploration. With guns and tanks. What happened to all the space stuff? Seriously, space stuff is super cool, why don't you do it any more?
It hurts me America. I used to look up to you. When something needed doing you did it. You didn't shirk a challenge and simply showed the rest of the world the way to go.
You even out-comedy'd the English for a while. I mean you can still make brilliant comedies but now they seem lost in the humongous ocean of crap tv that is reality shows and political/religious sermons masquerading as news.
I still try to stick up for you America but you are making it harder every day. When one of my fellow Europeans makes fun of you I try to tell them about my cool American friends. I try to tell them to look at a website where Americans are still funny, hilariously funny, or one where they still care about the rest of the world. But they just end up seeing the idiots on Fox News and my point is lost.
Please America, I want the cool you back.
Tuesday, 13 July 2010
Illness, it's a bit of a larf...
A young neighbour managed to make it to my sister's wedding just before she died. She had cancer and was skin and bone in a wheel chair. No one laughed.
My friends dad died last Christmas from Motor Neuron disease. He couldn't do a thing at the end. Stuck in a lifeless body with no control over it. No one laughed.
So why did we all piss ourselves when Gazza turned up to see his 'old mate Moaty' last weekend just before he shot himself?
Gazza is ill. He didn't catch anything (well he may have but that's normal enough in Newcastle), he didn't develop any tumors or bits didn't start falling off him. But he's still a very sick man. Still, it's mental illness so it's funny. Isn't it?
Now I'll admit that his interview with local radio did cause me to chuckle. But there's also an underlying feeling of guilt. Why would I laugh at this sick man but not piss myself when I see Stephen Hawking?
Even last weeks protagonist who caused Sky News to go into such a frenzy of 'news gathering' clearly had issues. See, can't even call it sickness, have to say 'issues'.
Now there's no doubt that Raoul Moat should never have done what he did. The shooting other people bit. But why can't we rationally talk about why he did it?
For our friends who read the Daily Mail this does NOT mean that anyone is trying to excuse his actions. It means that there have to be reasons behind them, and don't you think that perhaps trying to find out what these reasons were, and perhaps therefore preventing something similar happening in the future, might be a sensible course of action?
See I've made a mistake there. Well a couple of them. Firstly I assumed that Daily Mail readers are capable of rational thought and secondly that they are capable of sensible courses of action. Rather than the usual 'lock-em-up' or 'send-em-home' ideas.
Nevertheless shouldn't the rest of us be able to discuss it? Perhaps not.
We've never seemed comfortable talking about mental illness. Dunno why. Fear, maybe? Or perhaps the realisation that somewhere deep in our minds we could have the same 'issues'.
Moat apparently complained at the end that no one loved him and he didn't have a father. Given that his mother said he'd be 'better off dead' you can probably see where he's coming from.
The father-figure or lack of one is something increasingly more prevalent today. There is an increasing number of children who reach their teens without having any male role-model in their lives. Daddy might have never been around, or might have left when he found out he was going to be a daddy.
And of course seeing as all men are pedophiles we can't possibly allow them to be teachers in primary schools.
There's a stigma with mental illness. People don't feel comfortable admitting it. Perhaps it's something to do with the fact that if you said you were suffering from something like MS you wouldn't get many people telling you to 'pull yourself together', which seems to be the super-duper solution to every mental illness under the sun.
I don't really know where I'm going with this. It's difficult even to write about because you fear someone will just make light of it or make fun of you for doing so.
So maybe I should just end on a joke?
Who's going to pay the expenses for that Moat last week?
See what I did there? Now I feel guilty and disgusting for doing it. But I'm mentally ill and unfortunately it causes me to have to think in a million different ways about practically everything I do or say.
And that isn't a joke.
My friends dad died last Christmas from Motor Neuron disease. He couldn't do a thing at the end. Stuck in a lifeless body with no control over it. No one laughed.
So why did we all piss ourselves when Gazza turned up to see his 'old mate Moaty' last weekend just before he shot himself?
Gazza is ill. He didn't catch anything (well he may have but that's normal enough in Newcastle), he didn't develop any tumors or bits didn't start falling off him. But he's still a very sick man. Still, it's mental illness so it's funny. Isn't it?
Now I'll admit that his interview with local radio did cause me to chuckle. But there's also an underlying feeling of guilt. Why would I laugh at this sick man but not piss myself when I see Stephen Hawking?
Even last weeks protagonist who caused Sky News to go into such a frenzy of 'news gathering' clearly had issues. See, can't even call it sickness, have to say 'issues'.
Now there's no doubt that Raoul Moat should never have done what he did. The shooting other people bit. But why can't we rationally talk about why he did it?
For our friends who read the Daily Mail this does NOT mean that anyone is trying to excuse his actions. It means that there have to be reasons behind them, and don't you think that perhaps trying to find out what these reasons were, and perhaps therefore preventing something similar happening in the future, might be a sensible course of action?
See I've made a mistake there. Well a couple of them. Firstly I assumed that Daily Mail readers are capable of rational thought and secondly that they are capable of sensible courses of action. Rather than the usual 'lock-em-up' or 'send-em-home' ideas.
Nevertheless shouldn't the rest of us be able to discuss it? Perhaps not.
We've never seemed comfortable talking about mental illness. Dunno why. Fear, maybe? Or perhaps the realisation that somewhere deep in our minds we could have the same 'issues'.
Moat apparently complained at the end that no one loved him and he didn't have a father. Given that his mother said he'd be 'better off dead' you can probably see where he's coming from.
The father-figure or lack of one is something increasingly more prevalent today. There is an increasing number of children who reach their teens without having any male role-model in their lives. Daddy might have never been around, or might have left when he found out he was going to be a daddy.
And of course seeing as all men are pedophiles we can't possibly allow them to be teachers in primary schools.
There's a stigma with mental illness. People don't feel comfortable admitting it. Perhaps it's something to do with the fact that if you said you were suffering from something like MS you wouldn't get many people telling you to 'pull yourself together', which seems to be the super-duper solution to every mental illness under the sun.
I don't really know where I'm going with this. It's difficult even to write about because you fear someone will just make light of it or make fun of you for doing so.
So maybe I should just end on a joke?
Who's going to pay the expenses for that Moat last week?
See what I did there? Now I feel guilty and disgusting for doing it. But I'm mentally ill and unfortunately it causes me to have to think in a million different ways about practically everything I do or say.
And that isn't a joke.
Wednesday, 7 July 2010
It's the little things...
I've never liked jugglers. Seriously. They always come across all fucking smug and like they could have your woman any time they wanted. Bastards.
Anyway that's not really the point. Jugglers rely on keeping many balls in the air at once to enable them to keep their powers of woman pulling. They have to concentrate on them all at the same time. What happens if they just look at one and focus on it? Disaster. Balls on the floor and a lifetime of solitude.
Bit like life don't you think?
No? Well let me explain.
Look at a lot of shit that goes on in the world. You probably only have to look outside your window. Especially if you live somewhere crappy, oh I dunno, let's say Aldershot.
Actually Aldershot is a great example. (There's a sentence very rarely used. Unless it ends with 'of a craphole'.)
I'm lead to believe Aldershot has a lot of drug addicts. Like a lot of other places. Now drug addicts cause a lot of problems. Why? Simples. Because they're only focusing on one ball. All the other of life's balls are dropped and everything becomes a mess.
So that's the drug problem explained then. But that's hardly the cause of all of the world's issues is it? No matter what the Daily Mail might say.
But look at the focusing-on-one-ball-juggling-analogy more closely. Can it be used to explain lots of other bad stuff? I certainly hope so, or this blog is going to go downhill very quickly.
How about this; abortion. Now abortion in my view is a horrible thing. I don't like it. I don't particularly agree with it and I'd like to see it never have to happen. BUT, I live in the real world and understand that, unfortunately, it is sometimes necessary.
In America (and in Ireland) there are the anti-abortionists. (I refuse to call them pro-life because that's just fucking stupid. Who isn't pro-life for fucks sake. Apart from some very religious chaps). The anti-abortionists focus all their time and effort into getting abortion banned. Everything else takes a back seat.
I firmly believe that if there were 2 choices for someone to run the country and one of them said he would ban abortion but at the same time he would nuke Brazil then these people would vote for him. "Fuck Brazil, at least there'll be no more dead babies" is quite possibly something that would be said with a straight face.
See, focusing on one ball again. It doesn't really work well does it.
Psychologically wise this is called addiction. People think they know all about addiction. There's uncle Johnny who likes the booze a bit too much. Or that junkie bastard who'll rob your house if you ever leave.
But addiction doesn't have to involve actually ingesting something. There's gambling addicts for example. But importantly there are many many other types.
The religious can be addicts. If some bloke (usually a pedophile) stands up and tells them they must do something like beat themselves with a wet branch of willow, they'll probably do it. Doesn't make any sense whatsoever, but religion tends not to do sense. Mind you it does more sense than whatever that bullshit masquerading as 'atheism' is these days. Those idiots are managing to be addicts to something that they think doesn't exist.
So why would anyone do something so stupid? There's no evidence AT ALL that what they are doing is worthwhile but they'll go ahead anyway. Because their focusing on one ball again. Perhaps it's the ball that some beardy bloke in the sky will be annoyed at them, or perhaps it's the ball saying they'll be re-incarnated as a dung beetle. Doesn't matter, the ability to reason and evaluate all the facts and opinions goes completely out the window. Just the same as the guy who will do anything to get that next bit of white powder.
Then look at the current financial situation. Years spent focusing on the ball of profit. "Yeah, don't worry about that huge debt and shit, buy that big fucking building made of marshmallow, we'll make a killing." (This was actually in the minutes of a meeting at Goldman Sachs. Ok, it wasn't really, but would you honestly be surprised if it was).
So I propose you all become jugglers. Juggling training must start immediately. No more focusing on one ball.
I'm not doing it obviously as I hate jugglers. Along with a lot of other things.
Anyway that's not really the point. Jugglers rely on keeping many balls in the air at once to enable them to keep their powers of woman pulling. They have to concentrate on them all at the same time. What happens if they just look at one and focus on it? Disaster. Balls on the floor and a lifetime of solitude.
Bit like life don't you think?
No? Well let me explain.
Look at a lot of shit that goes on in the world. You probably only have to look outside your window. Especially if you live somewhere crappy, oh I dunno, let's say Aldershot.
Actually Aldershot is a great example. (There's a sentence very rarely used. Unless it ends with 'of a craphole'.)
I'm lead to believe Aldershot has a lot of drug addicts. Like a lot of other places. Now drug addicts cause a lot of problems. Why? Simples. Because they're only focusing on one ball. All the other of life's balls are dropped and everything becomes a mess.
So that's the drug problem explained then. But that's hardly the cause of all of the world's issues is it? No matter what the Daily Mail might say.
But look at the focusing-on-one-ball-juggling-analogy more closely. Can it be used to explain lots of other bad stuff? I certainly hope so, or this blog is going to go downhill very quickly.
How about this; abortion. Now abortion in my view is a horrible thing. I don't like it. I don't particularly agree with it and I'd like to see it never have to happen. BUT, I live in the real world and understand that, unfortunately, it is sometimes necessary.
In America (and in Ireland) there are the anti-abortionists. (I refuse to call them pro-life because that's just fucking stupid. Who isn't pro-life for fucks sake. Apart from some very religious chaps). The anti-abortionists focus all their time and effort into getting abortion banned. Everything else takes a back seat.
I firmly believe that if there were 2 choices for someone to run the country and one of them said he would ban abortion but at the same time he would nuke Brazil then these people would vote for him. "Fuck Brazil, at least there'll be no more dead babies" is quite possibly something that would be said with a straight face.
See, focusing on one ball again. It doesn't really work well does it.
Psychologically wise this is called addiction. People think they know all about addiction. There's uncle Johnny who likes the booze a bit too much. Or that junkie bastard who'll rob your house if you ever leave.
But addiction doesn't have to involve actually ingesting something. There's gambling addicts for example. But importantly there are many many other types.
The religious can be addicts. If some bloke (usually a pedophile) stands up and tells them they must do something like beat themselves with a wet branch of willow, they'll probably do it. Doesn't make any sense whatsoever, but religion tends not to do sense. Mind you it does more sense than whatever that bullshit masquerading as 'atheism' is these days. Those idiots are managing to be addicts to something that they think doesn't exist.
So why would anyone do something so stupid? There's no evidence AT ALL that what they are doing is worthwhile but they'll go ahead anyway. Because their focusing on one ball again. Perhaps it's the ball that some beardy bloke in the sky will be annoyed at them, or perhaps it's the ball saying they'll be re-incarnated as a dung beetle. Doesn't matter, the ability to reason and evaluate all the facts and opinions goes completely out the window. Just the same as the guy who will do anything to get that next bit of white powder.
Then look at the current financial situation. Years spent focusing on the ball of profit. "Yeah, don't worry about that huge debt and shit, buy that big fucking building made of marshmallow, we'll make a killing." (This was actually in the minutes of a meeting at Goldman Sachs. Ok, it wasn't really, but would you honestly be surprised if it was).
So I propose you all become jugglers. Juggling training must start immediately. No more focusing on one ball.
I'm not doing it obviously as I hate jugglers. Along with a lot of other things.
Tuesday, 29 June 2010
It's not me, it's you!
Could it be that the longest love affair of a fast approaching middle-aged man’s life is about to come to an end?
No, not my adoration for my right hand, something much more important.
I have been in love with football since before I can remember. My first bicycle in 1980, my first kiss in 1989 (yes I was 15, the other thing wasn't at the same time), my first car in 1992. All momentous occasions and all easily picked out from a 35-year backdrop.
Football, though, has always been there. Part of the furniture, available to be turned to in times of worry, a provider of joy when nothing else seemed to be going right. Impossible to put a date on when it started. When I first kicked a ball or when I first looked on bewildered at a Pat Jennings save on the television. I was always a goalkeeper, part of a strange breed, maybe that is why I don't have many friends. But better to have no friends than be one of those selfish bastards of strikers!
When Thierry Henry’s audition for the Harlem Globetrotters resulted in an injustice that threatened to turn into a diplomatic incident I was left pondering my future without the life-long friend I had come to rely on.
It wasn’t the fact that Ireland hadn’t qualified for the World Cup. I hadn’t really expected them to do so. It was more than that, a question of morals. How could I go on supporting something that seemingly held morality in such disregard?
Now we have the World Cup, and as I've said I'm not that interested. But every time I seem to turn it on there is another selfish little prick diving or cheating.
Things have been slowly simmering for some time. It's not like this is a new phenomenon. Cristiano Ronaldo, has been responsible for some of the most despicable acts of cheating we have seen in some time. Every time he fell over a blade of grass that seemed to have been armed with a freshly sharpened scythe that little voice called conscience nagged away at any celebration from the resulting goal.
But yet I still think he's the best player in the world. Better than that litte cunt Messi, who seems to be immune to people seeing him cheat and dive. Perhaps it's his ridiculous haircut. Or the fact he looks like an oompa-loompa.
A couple of weeks prior to Henry’s display the then England captain, John Terry (the cunt), had almost removed the shirt from a Manchester United forward while pulling him down in the penalty box. Similar to Henry’s situation the referee didn’t see it but, unlike the French Captain, Terry afterwards insisted he did not do it, despite video evidence to the contrary.
Surely a clear-cut case of a footballer being caught out in an indefensible situation? Seemingly not. Any posts on the BBC’s website suggesting Terry had cheated and then lied about it were removed within seconds.
Indeed after that match the Daily Mirror’s chief sports writer wrote a column praising Terry for his leadership in what could be a decisive victory. When I asked him why he had not brought up the act of breaking the rules, the silence was deafening. He wasn't so silent once before when I told him that he was completely wrong about Gary Neville and GNev was in fact a useless little twat who only got a game because he was a bigger tout than whichever historical figure was a big tout. (I'm not big into history as I'm not a Liverpool fan).
Politicians may, deservedly some might argue, get a hard time from the media but at the very least if they are caught with their hand in the cookie jar we expect them to be asked about it.
But where in the football publications can you find players being simply called a cheat? You see allegedly this and allegedly that with quotation marks around the bad words. Running scared are the papers? They don't seem to be when the footballer slips and accidently sticks his dick in some wench that isn't his wife. So why don't they do it when they cheat on the pitch.
Things are looking bleak. My relationship is floundering and I need re-assurance that it is worth trying to save.
Maybe I should go straight to the top. God’s representative for football on earth, head of Fifa Sepp Blatter. Perhaps unsurprisingly my requests for an interview with him were met with derision. But then he's busy sorting out video technology isn't he?
I'll have to look at it psychologically. Football is like love. It makes no sense. It's compulsive and like all compulsive behaviour logic takes a back seat. Fans will seldom admit when their team does something wrong and the majority of the time when they are shown concrete evidence of unacceptable sporting behaviour they will resort to child like arguments of why it is acceptable.
Pointing out reasons like ‘well he did it first’ and such like are what the norm.
So if I am to remain in my relationship I will have to accept the fact that it is going to be an unhealthy one. Biased and one-sided and probably with me as the one to always suffer as a result. Sounds a bit like marriage.
For the time being then it looks like morals will have to be put to one side where football is concerned because it does not look like anything will be changing soon. Besides what other choice to I have? Is there any other sport where cheating is not rampant?
Maybe golf. But Tiger hasn't exactly covered that in glory has he. Unlike all the pornstars he met.
No, not my adoration for my right hand, something much more important.
I have been in love with football since before I can remember. My first bicycle in 1980, my first kiss in 1989 (yes I was 15, the other thing wasn't at the same time), my first car in 1992. All momentous occasions and all easily picked out from a 35-year backdrop.
Football, though, has always been there. Part of the furniture, available to be turned to in times of worry, a provider of joy when nothing else seemed to be going right. Impossible to put a date on when it started. When I first kicked a ball or when I first looked on bewildered at a Pat Jennings save on the television. I was always a goalkeeper, part of a strange breed, maybe that is why I don't have many friends. But better to have no friends than be one of those selfish bastards of strikers!
When Thierry Henry’s audition for the Harlem Globetrotters resulted in an injustice that threatened to turn into a diplomatic incident I was left pondering my future without the life-long friend I had come to rely on.
It wasn’t the fact that Ireland hadn’t qualified for the World Cup. I hadn’t really expected them to do so. It was more than that, a question of morals. How could I go on supporting something that seemingly held morality in such disregard?
Now we have the World Cup, and as I've said I'm not that interested. But every time I seem to turn it on there is another selfish little prick diving or cheating.
Things have been slowly simmering for some time. It's not like this is a new phenomenon. Cristiano Ronaldo, has been responsible for some of the most despicable acts of cheating we have seen in some time. Every time he fell over a blade of grass that seemed to have been armed with a freshly sharpened scythe that little voice called conscience nagged away at any celebration from the resulting goal.
But yet I still think he's the best player in the world. Better than that litte cunt Messi, who seems to be immune to people seeing him cheat and dive. Perhaps it's his ridiculous haircut. Or the fact he looks like an oompa-loompa.
A couple of weeks prior to Henry’s display the then England captain, John Terry (the cunt), had almost removed the shirt from a Manchester United forward while pulling him down in the penalty box. Similar to Henry’s situation the referee didn’t see it but, unlike the French Captain, Terry afterwards insisted he did not do it, despite video evidence to the contrary.
Surely a clear-cut case of a footballer being caught out in an indefensible situation? Seemingly not. Any posts on the BBC’s website suggesting Terry had cheated and then lied about it were removed within seconds.
Indeed after that match the Daily Mirror’s chief sports writer wrote a column praising Terry for his leadership in what could be a decisive victory. When I asked him why he had not brought up the act of breaking the rules, the silence was deafening. He wasn't so silent once before when I told him that he was completely wrong about Gary Neville and GNev was in fact a useless little twat who only got a game because he was a bigger tout than whichever historical figure was a big tout. (I'm not big into history as I'm not a Liverpool fan).
Politicians may, deservedly some might argue, get a hard time from the media but at the very least if they are caught with their hand in the cookie jar we expect them to be asked about it.
But where in the football publications can you find players being simply called a cheat? You see allegedly this and allegedly that with quotation marks around the bad words. Running scared are the papers? They don't seem to be when the footballer slips and accidently sticks his dick in some wench that isn't his wife. So why don't they do it when they cheat on the pitch.
Things are looking bleak. My relationship is floundering and I need re-assurance that it is worth trying to save.
Maybe I should go straight to the top. God’s representative for football on earth, head of Fifa Sepp Blatter. Perhaps unsurprisingly my requests for an interview with him were met with derision. But then he's busy sorting out video technology isn't he?
I'll have to look at it psychologically. Football is like love. It makes no sense. It's compulsive and like all compulsive behaviour logic takes a back seat. Fans will seldom admit when their team does something wrong and the majority of the time when they are shown concrete evidence of unacceptable sporting behaviour they will resort to child like arguments of why it is acceptable.
Pointing out reasons like ‘well he did it first’ and such like are what the norm.
So if I am to remain in my relationship I will have to accept the fact that it is going to be an unhealthy one. Biased and one-sided and probably with me as the one to always suffer as a result. Sounds a bit like marriage.
For the time being then it looks like morals will have to be put to one side where football is concerned because it does not look like anything will be changing soon. Besides what other choice to I have? Is there any other sport where cheating is not rampant?
Maybe golf. But Tiger hasn't exactly covered that in glory has he. Unlike all the pornstars he met.
Monday, 28 June 2010
Is the party over?
So there we have it. England are going home. Will they follow the French lead and take cattle class seats on the plane back? I'm sure if Michael O'Leary was watching he will lay on a Ryanair flight back from South Africa for them. They'll have to pay for their own bags of course. But at least there's no need for expensive champagne.
What happens now then? Do we stop watching? Well seeing as I never started watching in the first place that's hardly an option. I did watch the England matches, but that was purely for comedy value and thankfully, on that front, they delivered in spades.
I've never really got the World Cup. For the life of me I can't understand why people want to support a team just because they come from the same place they were born in.
Nationality is a bit like string theory or Shakespeare or boy bands. I just can't understand it no matter how I try.
It's supposed to work like this isn't it; Person A was born in a hospital on one side of an imaginery line which makes them nationality A and person B was born on the other side of the line so that makes them nationality B.
(Obviously some people are born on another planet which makes them Leftists but that's a whole other story.)
Now then Person A must support a certain team because their players were born on the same side of the line. Or weren't, but their granny was so that makes it ok. And person A must want to beat person B's team because of the line thingy. It apparently doesn't matter if persons A & B ended up married to eachother, if they have a different piece of paper telling them what nationality they are then they can't be the 'same'.
See, I'm sort of rambling now. It confuses me that much.
Now a couple of years ago an Irish rugby team were apparently doing quite well and had to beat Wales in some sort of final game which meant they won a Grand Slam or something. How do you get presented with a Grand Slam by the way? Does Hulk Hogan pick you up and throw you to the floor?
Anyway I didn't want this Irish rugby team to win. Why?
BECAUSE I FUCKING HATE RUGBY.
I may have mentioned that to some people before but just in case others haven't heard it I'll make doubly clear...
I FUCKING HATE RUGBY!
Now apparently I was some sort of super-Nazi child molester or something for not wanting Ireland to win. Seeing as I was born in Ireland and have a piece of paper telling me I'm Irish then it's the law that I have to want anything 'Irish' to win.
See I just don't get this. Why? I FUCKING HATE RUGBY. I don't want an Irish rugby team to win at anything. I want them to lose and lose badly. Worse than England lost against Germany.
So the World Cup has never really appealed to me. And it probably never will.
But nevertheless we must get a few words in about the glorious failure of those brave English soldiers. Wait. Hang on. No matter how bad the BBC tried they couldn't even get English fans to say that this time.
Even the pathetic attempt of Gabbbbby Logan to blame the goal that never was didn't bring about the 'Hand of God' hullabaloo we've become accustomed to.
So could it be that England fans have turned a corner? Will there be no more of the divine birthright to win the thing stuff? Here's hoping. I have several English friends I would like to see happy so who knows, maybe in 4 years I can cheer on the England team. Only if John Terry isn't playing of course.
One thing before I go. There is the old saying of 'divide and conquer' which has worked well for many years for warmongering money grabbers. Which brings me on nicely to Sepp Blatter.
Instead of 'divide and conquer' can we now have 'unite and destroy' where Mr. Blatter is concerned. Imagine all the nationality bullshit going out the window and the world of football fans uniting against the single biggest (the fat cunt) thing that is threatening football today.
Blatter you must go and you must go now. You have definitely crossed the line and we don't need any video evidence to confirm it for us.
And take that cunt Terry with you.
What happens now then? Do we stop watching? Well seeing as I never started watching in the first place that's hardly an option. I did watch the England matches, but that was purely for comedy value and thankfully, on that front, they delivered in spades.
I've never really got the World Cup. For the life of me I can't understand why people want to support a team just because they come from the same place they were born in.
Nationality is a bit like string theory or Shakespeare or boy bands. I just can't understand it no matter how I try.
It's supposed to work like this isn't it; Person A was born in a hospital on one side of an imaginery line which makes them nationality A and person B was born on the other side of the line so that makes them nationality B.
(Obviously some people are born on another planet which makes them Leftists but that's a whole other story.)
Now then Person A must support a certain team because their players were born on the same side of the line. Or weren't, but their granny was so that makes it ok. And person A must want to beat person B's team because of the line thingy. It apparently doesn't matter if persons A & B ended up married to eachother, if they have a different piece of paper telling them what nationality they are then they can't be the 'same'.
See, I'm sort of rambling now. It confuses me that much.
Now a couple of years ago an Irish rugby team were apparently doing quite well and had to beat Wales in some sort of final game which meant they won a Grand Slam or something. How do you get presented with a Grand Slam by the way? Does Hulk Hogan pick you up and throw you to the floor?
Anyway I didn't want this Irish rugby team to win. Why?
BECAUSE I FUCKING HATE RUGBY.
I may have mentioned that to some people before but just in case others haven't heard it I'll make doubly clear...
I FUCKING HATE RUGBY!
Now apparently I was some sort of super-Nazi child molester or something for not wanting Ireland to win. Seeing as I was born in Ireland and have a piece of paper telling me I'm Irish then it's the law that I have to want anything 'Irish' to win.
See I just don't get this. Why? I FUCKING HATE RUGBY. I don't want an Irish rugby team to win at anything. I want them to lose and lose badly. Worse than England lost against Germany.
So the World Cup has never really appealed to me. And it probably never will.
But nevertheless we must get a few words in about the glorious failure of those brave English soldiers. Wait. Hang on. No matter how bad the BBC tried they couldn't even get English fans to say that this time.
Even the pathetic attempt of Gabbbbby Logan to blame the goal that never was didn't bring about the 'Hand of God' hullabaloo we've become accustomed to.
So could it be that England fans have turned a corner? Will there be no more of the divine birthright to win the thing stuff? Here's hoping. I have several English friends I would like to see happy so who knows, maybe in 4 years I can cheer on the England team. Only if John Terry isn't playing of course.
One thing before I go. There is the old saying of 'divide and conquer' which has worked well for many years for warmongering money grabbers. Which brings me on nicely to Sepp Blatter.
Instead of 'divide and conquer' can we now have 'unite and destroy' where Mr. Blatter is concerned. Imagine all the nationality bullshit going out the window and the world of football fans uniting against the single biggest (the fat cunt) thing that is threatening football today.
Blatter you must go and you must go now. You have definitely crossed the line and we don't need any video evidence to confirm it for us.
And take that cunt Terry with you.
Monday, 31 May 2010
Eurovisionary...
There are many things that can go wrong when visiting in-laws. Alcohol can make you say things, or grab things, that you shouldn't. But these are easily forgotten about when everyone buries their heads in the sand the next morning.
There is one problem, however, that can leave a sour taste in the mouth for weeks afterwards. (No, not that!).
What if you are in someone else's house and they decide to put something rubbish on the telly and make you watch it? And worse still, what if this happens on Eurovision Song Contest night.
Surely no jury of sane and sensible peers would convict you of the bloodbath that would result.
Well this was what happened to me over the weekend. After spending several hours in the pub we retired to the house where sister-in-law decided that the Eurovision must be watched.
Maybe it was the fact that I could hardly move due to a slipped disc but I decided not to go on an immediate murderous rampage and see what the hell made 150 million people watch it.
And maybe it was the booze opening my mind but I discovered something truly wonderful:
THE EUROVISION IS A WORK OF GENIUS!
Wait, wait, don't go calling the men in the white coats for me just yet. Let me make it a bit clearer:
THE EUROVISION IS THE WORK OF AN EVIL COMEDY GENIUS!
Here's the thing; the sensible among us watch it and normally throw things at the tv, cursing at whoever is in earshot at how such rubbish can be allowed.
But we are watching it from entirely the wrong perspective. We are watching it thinking that this is a song contest, or even just a light entertainment television show.
It isn't!
Somewhere an evil genius is sitting watching his masterpiece and laughing his bo**ocks off. This is beyond genius. From the first second to the last it is a non-stop tirade of mirth-making. It NEVER stops, there is joke after joke after joke.
Think Brass Eye on crack.
Honestly I don't know where to start. There are too many hilarious moments to list and every time I think of them it stars me rolling around the floor.
There's the ridiculous costumes, but that's too easy. There's the horrendous music, but that's easy too. It's the subtle things that are genius.
Mr. Euroevil (as he will now be known) actually gets 30 odd morons by satellite link to basically count from 1 to 12 (he even leaves out 9 and 11 in case it's too difficult) and do you know what; EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM makes a balls of it.
It's unbelievable. The sheer genius of a man who can make representatives from over 30 countries look like retarded staple guns must not be taken lightly. Some of them can't read, some can't speak (even in their own language). We had one wannabe even sing the scores and to top it all off Mr. Euroevil even brought in a ringer to give the Greek results in the style of one of the financial administrators who is running their country at the minute.
He got over 100,000 people all around Europe to stand in town centres doing some ridiculous dance and he had a camera in "a typical home" of each country. Clearly this was a huge studio with actors playing on all the stereotypes!
Then there's the accusations of rigged voting. "Ach those Eastern Euro's always vote for eachother" is thrown about by almost everyone. What does Mr. Euroevil do? He makes them do it, and no one notices that Bosnia gives Serbia 12 points. THESE PEOPLE F*CKING HATE EACHOTHER but yet Mr. Euroevil has everyone believing they are tactically voting for the other to win.
And to top it all off the eventual winner of a SONG CONTEST is a Lily Allen clone. What else could the man do but make the winner someone who can't sing.
Somewhere, probably in a castle in the Alps, a genius is today celebrating in his comedy masterpiece while those of us who, thanks to booze and pain, were able to get in on the joke will wait impatiently for next years instalment.
Mr. Euroevil - I salute you!!
There is one problem, however, that can leave a sour taste in the mouth for weeks afterwards. (No, not that!).
What if you are in someone else's house and they decide to put something rubbish on the telly and make you watch it? And worse still, what if this happens on Eurovision Song Contest night.
Surely no jury of sane and sensible peers would convict you of the bloodbath that would result.
Well this was what happened to me over the weekend. After spending several hours in the pub we retired to the house where sister-in-law decided that the Eurovision must be watched.
Maybe it was the fact that I could hardly move due to a slipped disc but I decided not to go on an immediate murderous rampage and see what the hell made 150 million people watch it.
And maybe it was the booze opening my mind but I discovered something truly wonderful:
THE EUROVISION IS A WORK OF GENIUS!
Wait, wait, don't go calling the men in the white coats for me just yet. Let me make it a bit clearer:
THE EUROVISION IS THE WORK OF AN EVIL COMEDY GENIUS!
Here's the thing; the sensible among us watch it and normally throw things at the tv, cursing at whoever is in earshot at how such rubbish can be allowed.
But we are watching it from entirely the wrong perspective. We are watching it thinking that this is a song contest, or even just a light entertainment television show.
It isn't!
Somewhere an evil genius is sitting watching his masterpiece and laughing his bo**ocks off. This is beyond genius. From the first second to the last it is a non-stop tirade of mirth-making. It NEVER stops, there is joke after joke after joke.
Think Brass Eye on crack.
Honestly I don't know where to start. There are too many hilarious moments to list and every time I think of them it stars me rolling around the floor.
There's the ridiculous costumes, but that's too easy. There's the horrendous music, but that's easy too. It's the subtle things that are genius.
Mr. Euroevil (as he will now be known) actually gets 30 odd morons by satellite link to basically count from 1 to 12 (he even leaves out 9 and 11 in case it's too difficult) and do you know what; EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM makes a balls of it.
It's unbelievable. The sheer genius of a man who can make representatives from over 30 countries look like retarded staple guns must not be taken lightly. Some of them can't read, some can't speak (even in their own language). We had one wannabe even sing the scores and to top it all off Mr. Euroevil even brought in a ringer to give the Greek results in the style of one of the financial administrators who is running their country at the minute.
He got over 100,000 people all around Europe to stand in town centres doing some ridiculous dance and he had a camera in "a typical home" of each country. Clearly this was a huge studio with actors playing on all the stereotypes!
Then there's the accusations of rigged voting. "Ach those Eastern Euro's always vote for eachother" is thrown about by almost everyone. What does Mr. Euroevil do? He makes them do it, and no one notices that Bosnia gives Serbia 12 points. THESE PEOPLE F*CKING HATE EACHOTHER but yet Mr. Euroevil has everyone believing they are tactically voting for the other to win.
And to top it all off the eventual winner of a SONG CONTEST is a Lily Allen clone. What else could the man do but make the winner someone who can't sing.
Somewhere, probably in a castle in the Alps, a genius is today celebrating in his comedy masterpiece while those of us who, thanks to booze and pain, were able to get in on the joke will wait impatiently for next years instalment.
Mr. Euroevil - I salute you!!
Friday, 28 May 2010
Which goat will escape?
So the time is nearly upon us. The only rightful team sporting event that can be called a World Cup is about to start. I'm sorry but rugby and cricket don't count. Firstly they aren't real sports and secondly a World Cup has to include more countries than those that were originally outposts for a historical version of Group 4 Securitas.
And the less said about the American 'World Series' type events the better.
No, this is all about the footie. And of course as Ireland will not be competing we will have to find other ways to enjoy it. Normally this involves supporting Anyone But England but this time, due to a certain cheating basketball impersonator, the French have filled the 'most-hated' position.
Now obviously we can't go as far as wanting England to win the thing. Luckily England won't go that far either, so in what way can we watch their inevitable failure and still have a bit of fun doing it?
Well, how about a sweepstake of sorts. Everyone gets to pick a likely candidate for "Scapegoat in chief", the unfortunate chump who will be blamed for another glorious failure by England's brave soldiers.
In the past we've had everyone from Maradona with his hand of Spaghetti Monster to Graham 'The Turnip' Taylor, who managed to fail before he even got there. There's been a plethora of penalty missers and of course Beckham went from saviour to devil and back to saviour again quicker than his wife running away from a buffet table.
Then last time Christiano Ronaldo easily filled the villain void by being both foreign and a United player. He even went so far as winking, giving pun-meisters the easiest rhyming headlines ever.
So who will it be this time? Well make your choice from the suspects below...
Rio Ferdinand - Being a United player and capable of making schoolboy errors that would have schoolboys up and down the country demanding to be called something else could make Rio a shoe-in. However the fact that his fitness is as good as Homer Simpson's means he's unlikely to play much. Odds: 25/1
John Terry - Hated by everyone but Chelsea fans and friends girlfriends, JT seems like a likely candidate. Although he'll probably just make a balls-up, deny it, threaten to sue and no one will ever be able to talk about it again. 40/1
St. Steven of Gerrard - Having played for Liverpool for his entire career, losing is something that comes naturally to our Stevie. Being Scouse of course means blaming it on someone else is also de rigeur. So expect Fabio to take the flack after a Starfish dive goes drastically wrong. 10/1
Wayne Rooney - Being touted as the WC winner for England so surely destined to be blamed when it all goes wrong. He won't score the 147 goals that are expected of him (probably because he'll be too busy picking Emile up off the floor) and being a United player means he can easily be hated. That and ugly rich people are always hated. 8/1
Fabio - Currently a genius. But he's not English so after the glorious failure he easily slips back into being 'Johnny Foreigner' and the Daily Mail can have a field day. 8/1
Random Foreigner whose cheating results in a dodgy penno or sending off thus depriving England of their rightful place as winners - A clear favourite. Evens. Just who will it be? Could that cheating French basteurad of a captain do it again? Here's hoping!
And the less said about the American 'World Series' type events the better.
No, this is all about the footie. And of course as Ireland will not be competing we will have to find other ways to enjoy it. Normally this involves supporting Anyone But England but this time, due to a certain cheating basketball impersonator, the French have filled the 'most-hated' position.
Now obviously we can't go as far as wanting England to win the thing. Luckily England won't go that far either, so in what way can we watch their inevitable failure and still have a bit of fun doing it?
Well, how about a sweepstake of sorts. Everyone gets to pick a likely candidate for "Scapegoat in chief", the unfortunate chump who will be blamed for another glorious failure by England's brave soldiers.
In the past we've had everyone from Maradona with his hand of Spaghetti Monster to Graham 'The Turnip' Taylor, who managed to fail before he even got there. There's been a plethora of penalty missers and of course Beckham went from saviour to devil and back to saviour again quicker than his wife running away from a buffet table.
Then last time Christiano Ronaldo easily filled the villain void by being both foreign and a United player. He even went so far as winking, giving pun-meisters the easiest rhyming headlines ever.
So who will it be this time? Well make your choice from the suspects below...
Rio Ferdinand - Being a United player and capable of making schoolboy errors that would have schoolboys up and down the country demanding to be called something else could make Rio a shoe-in. However the fact that his fitness is as good as Homer Simpson's means he's unlikely to play much. Odds: 25/1
John Terry - Hated by everyone but Chelsea fans and friends girlfriends, JT seems like a likely candidate. Although he'll probably just make a balls-up, deny it, threaten to sue and no one will ever be able to talk about it again. 40/1
St. Steven of Gerrard - Having played for Liverpool for his entire career, losing is something that comes naturally to our Stevie. Being Scouse of course means blaming it on someone else is also de rigeur. So expect Fabio to take the flack after a Starfish dive goes drastically wrong. 10/1
Wayne Rooney - Being touted as the WC winner for England so surely destined to be blamed when it all goes wrong. He won't score the 147 goals that are expected of him (probably because he'll be too busy picking Emile up off the floor) and being a United player means he can easily be hated. That and ugly rich people are always hated. 8/1
Fabio - Currently a genius. But he's not English so after the glorious failure he easily slips back into being 'Johnny Foreigner' and the Daily Mail can have a field day. 8/1
Random Foreigner whose cheating results in a dodgy penno or sending off thus depriving England of their rightful place as winners - A clear favourite. Evens. Just who will it be? Could that cheating French basteurad of a captain do it again? Here's hoping!
Wednesday, 26 May 2010
The Asshole Law
So what can we do to solve the problems of the world? Surely we can pass some laws, that seems to be the norm. Laws to stop racism. Laws to stop thieving bastards (unless they are bankers of course) (or Politicians) (or celebrities) (well let’s just leave it at only people who are poor). Laws to stop killing.
That’s a lot of laws, and we didn’t even get on to the whole economic mess.
But having to pass a load of extra laws is not the only problem. For you know once these laws are passed then you have to have more laws because the original laws usually don’t cover everything. Confused? I’ll try to explain.
If you pass racism laws then you have to pass ‘Well I’m Not Really Being Racist’ laws too. Example; scumbag family move in next door to you. They make noise, make an even bigger mess and threaten you and your children with physical violence. “Simple”, I hear you say, “call the police”. Well yes. And no.
If the scumbag family happen to be from a different ‘race’ then you might be being racist, depending on the law. And the ‘race’. Now don’t just assume that we are all members of the human race, because that’s just too sensible. Laws don’t do sensible.
So one law begets another law which means another law etc. etc. until the lawyers all get so rich they buy the planet and throw the rest of us off.
Well I have the solution. It’s so simple I can’t believe no one ever thought of it before. I’ll even give it away for free, no consultancy fees or anything.
We only need ONE law.
Yes, that’s right. One law for everything.
It's called ‘The Asshole Law’.
It really is an amazing piece of legislation this. I predict all world problems solved within 6 months of its adoption.
Let me explain it to you. Firstly the law simply requires that someone is found guilty of the crime of being an ‘asshole’. Once found guilty then punishment is meted out on the grounds of just how big an ‘asshole’ that person was being.
For example, bankers. Assholes. The lot of them. Stupid loans people were never going to be able to repay. Robbing from the poor to give to the rich. Actually fighting for bonuses when they completely failed at their jobs. Definitely, case closed, assholes of the highest degree. 10 years sentenced to building new 14 bedroom houses for the poor.
See how simple that was! Took all of five seconds. Go on, throw another one at me.
Let’s see, how about politicians.
Come on, this is too easy. Definite assholes, undeniable. Perhaps even bigger assholes than the bankers. Yep, guilty as charged. 15 years shovelling actual shit from the sewers in their constituencies. Case closed.
Now at this point someone, a lawyer most probably, will come along and say something like; “This is just stupid, how can you do this? Who is to say who is an asshole and who is not?”.
Invoke ‘The Asshole Law’ immediately and one Mr. Lawyer is found guilty of being an asshole straight away. Punishment? Feck off and stop arguing for the sake of it.
How have we survived without this for so long?
I formally start the campaign for the introduction of ‘The Asshole Law’ with immediate effect. Who’s with me? If you’re not, you’re probably just being an asshole.
That’s a lot of laws, and we didn’t even get on to the whole economic mess.
But having to pass a load of extra laws is not the only problem. For you know once these laws are passed then you have to have more laws because the original laws usually don’t cover everything. Confused? I’ll try to explain.
If you pass racism laws then you have to pass ‘Well I’m Not Really Being Racist’ laws too. Example; scumbag family move in next door to you. They make noise, make an even bigger mess and threaten you and your children with physical violence. “Simple”, I hear you say, “call the police”. Well yes. And no.
If the scumbag family happen to be from a different ‘race’ then you might be being racist, depending on the law. And the ‘race’. Now don’t just assume that we are all members of the human race, because that’s just too sensible. Laws don’t do sensible.
So one law begets another law which means another law etc. etc. until the lawyers all get so rich they buy the planet and throw the rest of us off.
Well I have the solution. It’s so simple I can’t believe no one ever thought of it before. I’ll even give it away for free, no consultancy fees or anything.
We only need ONE law.
Yes, that’s right. One law for everything.
It's called ‘The Asshole Law’.
It really is an amazing piece of legislation this. I predict all world problems solved within 6 months of its adoption.
Let me explain it to you. Firstly the law simply requires that someone is found guilty of the crime of being an ‘asshole’. Once found guilty then punishment is meted out on the grounds of just how big an ‘asshole’ that person was being.
For example, bankers. Assholes. The lot of them. Stupid loans people were never going to be able to repay. Robbing from the poor to give to the rich. Actually fighting for bonuses when they completely failed at their jobs. Definitely, case closed, assholes of the highest degree. 10 years sentenced to building new 14 bedroom houses for the poor.
See how simple that was! Took all of five seconds. Go on, throw another one at me.
Let’s see, how about politicians.
Come on, this is too easy. Definite assholes, undeniable. Perhaps even bigger assholes than the bankers. Yep, guilty as charged. 15 years shovelling actual shit from the sewers in their constituencies. Case closed.
Now at this point someone, a lawyer most probably, will come along and say something like; “This is just stupid, how can you do this? Who is to say who is an asshole and who is not?”.
Invoke ‘The Asshole Law’ immediately and one Mr. Lawyer is found guilty of being an asshole straight away. Punishment? Feck off and stop arguing for the sake of it.
How have we survived without this for so long?
I formally start the campaign for the introduction of ‘The Asshole Law’ with immediate effect. Who’s with me? If you’re not, you’re probably just being an asshole.
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