Monthly Archives: August 2012

sorry… but we are all poop-slingers!

Here we see a male ape, minding his own by a leafy hollow deep in the jungle.  See the younger male approach him and ask him for a ‘spare fag.’  The older male explains that he doesn’t smoke but watch now as other young males approach as the first male askes to borrow the older males phone to call a mate.  Let’s watch as the older male is walked to the cash machine at knife point by the young male gang.  (Read this back in the voice of Sir David Attenborough in your head… trust me it’s awesome!)

Had a massive row about evolution at work the other day and it went on for ages, it got to the point where I had to leave the warehouse for fear of what I might say.

It wasn’t a one sided argument or some massive rant about how god created everything in six days and on the seventh he went fishing, we both agreed that the idea of an all-powerful, overseer was preposterous but due to his Christian upbringing he still felt that evolution was just a theory capable of being proven wrong by some new theory further down the line like some mathematical equation about black holes.

He couldn’t quite grasp the fact that even without people with conscious though about to ‘theorise’ over the nuances of evolution it would still be a constant rather than just an idea.  Yes we could argue that maybe some stages of historical evolution might be a little skew with the findings of new remains and fossils all the time but it is a fact that evolution is still just a constant.  The links in the chain might new changing but evolution is perfect.

Even if aliens came down from the havens tomorrow and told us that we are just an experiment, we have still evolved and continue to on a daily basis.

I don’t think that the next stages of man’s evolution will be that much of a physical issue more along the mental path.  I’m not sure of the percentage but so much of the brain goes uncharted and unused.  Surely we have reached the horizon when it comes to physical development and now it is the turn of the mind.

The brain is evolving constantly and has the capacity to soak up information (if one is inclined to) like a sponge and you have to admit we have made some pretty big advances over the last century or so due to good old thinking.

And this is how I think we can advance as a species…

We get rid of religion, all of it, every single sect and cult, gone!  Seriously, we are at a point now where the good part of religion are almost non-existent, love thy neighbour and all that is out of the window now, religion has mutated into something very sinister and what I consider to be a problem.

There is Christian websites out there with the domain name ‘’ seriously?  How can he hate the gay community if he created them?  Can a Christian explain this to me; no I don’t think you can without contradicting you hypocritical doctrine of faith or proving to yourself that god doesn’t exist in the way that you thought or at all.

Now I’m not making out that I’m some intellectual or on the ball, I’m just a regular guy with a fairly standard life and average level of intellect (I like average, it works) but I’d like to think that I have enough savvy to know that most of this religious stuff is bollocks.

Talking snakes and ghost sex in Christianity, paedophile prophets in Islam, lazy skinheads sitting under trees in Buddhism, but they all have one thing in common, a disembodied and some would say tyrannical overseer that pulls our strings.  That our life is our own is a myth and that everything from thoughts to actions can be judged even while you sleep.  That you must live in servitude to this god or suffer for eternity after you die because the fun doesn’t start until you drop dead and hit the afterlife.

If there is a god and a heaven then why does the pope ride around in that car with a bulletproof box on top to prolong his life?  If he is so sure then death, in anyway should not even come into play and he would gladly stride through fire to save another’s life, but he doesn’t, because he knows the truth.  When he talks to god there is no answer.

Sorry religious types, but you’re on your own, welcome to the human race dickheads and guess what… you evolved from an ape douchbag!

I don’t want to go on too much about this because the how atheism thing is very hip and fashionable at the moment but it was a moment that got my back up a little, but fuck it.

Get rid of religion so we can move on as a species and spend all that religious based cash on exploring the galaxy and making steps in healthcare and science.  Let’s evolve for fuck sake people!

so… tell me about your mother

I felt the cold of the worn leather on the back of my neck and I was very much aware that my therapist was wearing a top that was just a little too small for her full breasts.  I didn’t want to look at her as I knew eye contact was well out of the window with her top two shirt buttons undone.  It was about half an hour into our session that I realised that trying not to think about her tits had given me a bone on; how long it was rock hard for, I could not say… we marry in the spring.

Excuse me while I get this out of my head…

I think it’s about time my hermit lifestyle came to an end, at least for a little while; time I got out there and re-connected with a few old pals and start to become a little more social than I am now.

It’s been so long that when I do bump into an old mate I barely know what to say to them as I am crap at small talk and I can’t rely purely on the company of my work mates just for a social outlet.

I’m not one for having or keeping friends and I don’t like to be too close to people, I can probably count on one hand the amount of people that really ‘get me’ on one hand but I do still have a few mates out there that I don’t mind the company of without the urge to kill sweeping over me and its them that I have neglected or just plain disregarded I guess.

But my phone isn’t exactly ringing off the hook; my news feed isn’t crammed with notifications or posts of concern for my wellbeing so I guess I’m just one of those faces that pops up from time to time that people figure is okay just doing their own thing or they just don’t give two turds about.

But I guess the door swings both ways on this one; like I said I’m not the best with small talk and I’m really not the one to just text or call just to see how somebody is doing, I hate it when it happens to me so I guess that’s why my inbox is a little baron of late.

Or maybe it’s just because I’m an insufferable prick… little from column A, a little from column B perhaps?

But I do miss my old mates, had some fucking amazing times with those (you) guys and miss getting out there and sharing little adventures, most of them are fucking awesome and I would give my right arm for if need be; guess I don’t really come over like that though right?

But, and here comes the pretty big but, I don’t think that I was ever figured in any of those peoples plans.  I’m the guy that popped into people’s lives midpoint if you get what I mean.  Most of the people I know have known each other for far longer than I have; they all went to school together or played football together or lived near each other as kids and I just sort of drifted in somewhere along the line.

And I’m a pretty forgettable kind of person, I’m not enthusiastic about things, I’m severely over opinionated, I mostly talk and think complete shit, I drink and smoke too much which makes me and out cast in several respects and I’m a quitter.

And I don’t mean a conscious quitter, I don’t think ‘fuck it I can’t be asked with this anymore’, no, I just slow down and then all of a sudden I realise that I don’t have the passion for the thing like when I started it.

Take for instance the music stuff that I was involved with, by the end of the band days I couldn’t be bothered to practice or really have anything to do with the band and I really just gave up.  It wasn’t a conscious decision, it just manifested within me in that way.  I never said ‘I can’t be fucked’ I just couldn’t by the end.

I started a one man grindcore project that at first I was really into, I was recording stuff every weekend and buying equipment left right and centre, I also started my own DIY label to push my stuff and try to get others well into it but again I just lost the drive for it.

I didn’t just stop myself one day and think, ‘what am I doing?’ it just fell away from me.  Now I have a load of recording and musical equipment with a layer of dust on it an inch thick.  I can’t even remember the last time I picked my guitar up.

It’s like this writing kick I’m going through at the moment, I’m starting to wonder how long this will last before the shine wares off.  The fact I’m already starting to think this way is a sign that I’m bound to just stop at some point, and I think that’s a really defeatist attitude towards something I love doing.   It’s almost like I’m setting myself an obstacle that I just can’t be bothered to climb.

I guess that’s why I’m feeling the need for a little interaction with some old friends, have a little bit of back up and maybe, just maybe one of them might give me some sage advice, a little nod in the right direction regarding motivation.  But like I said before, I really don’t think they give a fuck what I am up to because I do go through these phases.

It’s slightly depressing to think that I haven’t got a mate out there that will sit me down and tell me that I’m just being an arsehole and that I should just stick with it because it’s the thing for me to do.  But the more I think about it the better I start to feel because at the end of it all I really haven’t done anything over the years for anybody other than myself and I don’t really need them to massage my ego for me when I can just come on here and vent spleen.

I have noticed that I have used ‘I’ quite a lot in this little rant, glad I don’t have a therapist yet.

But whatever, I’m doing this now and will go at it full-bore until my psyche decides its time for the next fad I guess; maybe it will be a knitted tea-cosy stall in a covered market some place, who knows?  The least you fuckers could do is wish me luck, fuck; I bought you guys enough shots over the years for that at least.

Book my gym session… you wild bitch!

He had to keep running, the treadmill was way past the safe level and he knew he couldn’t just stop.  He was a little too far away from the controls now to turn down the speed and he was very much aware of the gorgeously trim brunet on the rowing machine next to him.  Sweat poured from him and he could feel the lactic acid in every joint to the point where he thought he would bust.  Then his legs gave way sending backwards into the massive wall length mirror.  Shattered glass, blood and screaming, the girl just kept on rowing.

Hipster culture is slowly tacking over the planet.

Have you looked at your high street lately?  Remember when the kids used to ware hoodies, hang outside fast food joints and looked genuinely menacing, smoking weed and drinking bottles of fruit-based alcohopops.  Now they ware chinos and are obsessed with the gym; honestly these kids look like beefed up versions of Morrissey for fuck sake, I’m expecting to get mugged by a kid on a 3 speed with a book basket any day now.

I shouldent complain so much, it used to be a knife these fuckers were carrying, now it’s just good diction, a baguette and some bronzing spray but I must have missed a meeting somewhere down the line; aren’t these kids supposed to look hard?  Some of these little bastards wouldn’t look out of place in some French black and white art-house film.

Seriously, I almost long for the past when I felt uneasy just popping to the shops for milk, fags and a bogroll; “Need smokes, need a shit, am I getting stabbed up tonight? “

I think I’m getting nostalgic for ‘chav’ culture; Burberry caps, Pittbulls and Adidas tracksuit bottoms!

I saw a guy on the train with a bird that was a dead (excuse the pun) ringer for Amy Winehouse and couldn’t have been more than 17 with less fabric coverage on her than a pole dancer that looked like he could bench about 250 kilos, the kid’s arms were fucking massive, yet he looked like Clark Kent from the original superman movie, All quiff, cardigan and big glasses.  What happened to nerds, why is it cool to look like one now?  Just because you look like Bill Gates doesn’t mean you’re going to earn his sort of cash you steroid guzzling asshole and your girlfriend looks like a dead junkie man, she’s only got that fucking beehive to stash her methadone and your dirty roids needles in you mugs!

And why is everyone obsessed with the gym now anyway?  I’m not gonna knock personal fitness or self-improvement or a healthy lifestyle in any way but there is a difference in buying a bike and hitting the weights every day for four hours before you get to work, just so you can impress the rest of the blokes you work with your awesome guns, get to fuck!

I guess it’s down to the massive influx of eastern European guys coming over that have grown up with the gym and gym orientated sports like Greco-Roman wrestling that has got the average British guy worried.  Do you feel a little inadequate little English boy, think that Yuri is going to steal your Mrs with his awesome calf muscle display?  Please, save me from this mentality.

When I was a youth I never knew of this kind of gym lifestyle, sure people when to the gym and worked out but not your average John on the street, I never knew anybody from the working class areas that played squash, what the fuck?  Now I know loads of people that play the bastard.

Golf… when did normal blokes start playing golf?  What happened to the average working man that watched the footie to suddenly think ‘I know what I’m missing from my life’ and hit the links?  Builders don’t play golf, they drink beer and watch the rugby and complain about England managers over a plate of fried offal in the mornings not what Tiger hit that day at Gleneagles; has the world gone insane?

And you know what, I think I know why I don’t get it… it’s my fear of age discrimination.  I don’t want to be in the rows of fit young things that have been going to the gym for the last few years looking all ripped and trim; me at 35 sat in amongst them in my sleeveless dawn of the dead t-shirt with my gut hanging out, sweating like a paedophile at a kids party and getting laughed at.  There I said it; I don’t want to get laughed at.

That’s the bottom line, blokes my age have to go full bore at it or else nobody really takes them seriously.  It’s like in a job interview; you may be more than qualified to do some kind of job but a lot of employers would rather take on someone that they can train up for the job rather than somebody that can do the thing with their eyes shut.  I think it’s a case of keeping the youth close by to keep a grasp on their youth before it slips away.  That and you would rather a nice young hard bodied secretary than some old biddy with one tit drooping into your morning coffee.

Age discrimination, it really happens and if you think I’m just being a bit ‘me’ on this one, just wait till you get to my age and you’ll see, you won’t have a fucking clue what the youth are going on about, especially at the rate they develop these days.

But I leave you now tired and restless, old and grumpy, middle aged and misunderstood… I also have to book my swimming sessions for the next few months so laters.

You may find this dull but…

As I brushed away the stones my heart sank as I could see her face through the clear plastic sheeting she was wrapped in; the sick fucker hadn’t even given her a proper burial, just thrown her to the sea to get washed up here.

Just a few words about my holiday…

I never really get all misty eyed when I think of places, I have my favourite place just like everyone else but I really did not want to come home from my recent weekend break to Hastings.

I fucking love the place; it’s just the right kind of pace for me and just the right level of posh to scumbag going on for me to just blend in.

For the first time in years I could just kick back and relax, and it was the first time in years that I slept for well over eight hours.

We stayed at a place called the Sea spray guesthouse right on the sea front on the road to Bexhill and we couldn’t have asked for a better place to stay.  The room was cosy with a LCD telly and free Wi Fi and half decent bathroom.  Breakfast was served a little early for my liking but they had a wicked menu with a wide selection and was thrown in with the price of the room.

But it’s all the little things I spotted, the graffiti on the shutdown pier about how it couldn’t be saved or the seats outside the bikers pub being a little wonky and not bolted down like everyone just knew not to nick them.  I liked how most of the chippy’s were run by eastern European folk so it was like being back home, no I kid!

I had the biggest piece of cod I have ever had from a chip shop at the Mermaid chippy down by the fish market in the old town.  The place looked like an old bomb shelter but the portions were massive and I only ordered the medium.  I should have ordered curry sauce but I forgot, I think I was just overwhelmed by the size of the fish.

We had gone at the start of the holidays which was carnival week and there were so many things to do along with the regular attractions.  Every little back street had something going on in it from jumble sales to BBQ’s and even a wine tasting where we nearly purchased a human skull from a curio shop.

We did all the normal stuff like the Sea Life centre, the shipwreck museum and smugglers adventure but there were so many little unplanned things like my Mrs nearly punching a seagull that had a wonky leg from the top of someone’s car and the almost epic air hockey session that gave her a strained shoulder that made the weekend.  The great firework display down on the seafront on the Saturday night was also a highlight.

Seriously I want to move down that way when it all goes tits up around this way; I could see myself ending my days down that way just sitting by the sea outside some chip shop eating a plate of the squid fritters watching the fishing boats come back.  I could spend my days just writing and relaxing and making my pickles for the local restaurants, magic.

I even scoped out where the local cinema and blockbusters was, that’s pretty bad.

A personal highlight for me was the Banoffee pie I had in the hilltop café, this slice was the size of a fucking rugby ball and tasted awesome.  Also finding a bar called the pig in paradise that had a really impressive tikki bar out back and a cool ass menu for anyone that likes their burgers… and I do!

We really didn’t book enough time down there so we have booked again for the august bank holiday weekend, three nights this time so we get the extra day to do almost fuck all.

Running, Jumping, Swiming… just get on the train mate!

Well now it’s been a while but I have returned with a new found appreciation of the sea and have fallen in love with the seafront at Hastings, love the place, love it.  But that’s another blog post, let’s have a look at…

… A few medals later and what are we left with?  A few massive buildings in east London that nobody will remember or go to and a massive bill for the tax payer all in the name of making the country look good.

What a fucking disruption, everything has properly tits up down my way due to being on the fast track line that runs through Stratford.


You’ve fucked that up mate!

It used to take just under half an hour to get to King’s Cross from Gravesend with trains running every half hour but now it takes ages because they have stopped the quarter past train so the platform is rammed fat tourists at Stratford.  The comfort of the fast bullet trains has gone downhill slightly.  It’s hard to enjoy such space and luxurious seat with just the right amount of air-con when you have an American’s armpit just above your head and a child staring you out for the most part of your journey.

And when you finally get to King’s Cross you are penned in like cattle and have to leave the station just to get on to the tube rather than go down the first escalator into the underground as normal.  I had a guy moan at me because I ducked under a rope barrier to get out of the ‘cattle run’ and told me to go back the way I came.  Good luck with that mate, I just kept on my merry way.  Some people actually looked put out that I had used my brain and skipped past the rabble, they genuinely looked pissed off that I didn’t want to follow the rules of the rope barrier, the shame.

I really don’t get what the hype is all about, all this excitement for such a childish group of events.  Some of it is quite interesting as some of the sports aren’t really highlighted in the mainstream sports media such as the judo or shooting, it’s not every day that you see a clay pigeon shooter on an Adidas advert now is it.

But the rest of it is just really childish, that whole ‘I can run faster than you can’ bullshit; I know that I grew out of that stage when I was a child and I really don’t have that much of a competitive side.  I do sometimes get all antsy when I hit the air hockey tables though and can often be heard to shout ‘BOOYAAAAAHHHH!’ from time to time in  the penny arcades on the seafront at Hastings.

Seriously, grown men and women training for four years just so they can say that they beat a bunch of other grown adults in a race or in a fight or in a boat or bike, really?  This is what is passing for entertainment for you fucking sheep, really?

and all of a sudden there are loads of people talking about sports that they haven’t even heard of before like they have been into it for years,  when that ‘Won Chan’ of china beat ‘Van Dehoot’ in the table tennis final I was glued to my seat.  Who really is into synchronised diving, who goes out of their way to get to every air rifle shooting event?  NOBODY!


But that wasn’t why I was heading to London today, what I was there for couldn’t have been so far from the extravaganza of sports nobody gives two fucks about.  I was off to the zombie fate.

It was held at a venue that used to be called Elektrowork, now Metal Works that used to host such nights as ‘sick and twisted’ and ‘Slime-light’ (I’ll post a few links at the bottom of the page) up Islington was and it was a blast, even if I did hit the cocktails a little too hard.

They had a zombie makeup workshop, dead flower arranging and a 12 hour zombie movie marathon.

It was a great evening surrounded by the recent dead and I also had deep political and religious banter with my new Muslim mate Yuss, a polite but strange guy done up with voodoo priest makeup and a penchant for Polish ciggies.  I told him I was Jewish and we got on like a house on fire but we still could not agree on Palestine ha-ha!

There were loads of the undead in there, a zombie tennis player, zombie children, a group of zombie soldiers and even a zombie Amy Winehouse.  There was a BBQ cooking up all sorts of ghoulish stuff and a guy even fried up some brains and a few eyes for the delight of the crowd, I don’t think many people actually ate the eyes though.

The movie selection was a bit of a disappointment, no ‘zombie flesh-eaters’ or any of the blind dead films which I thought was a problem.  They did show living dead at the Manchester morgue but there was absolutely no Fulci.  I got really rather drunk took a few photos and even licked a dead girls shoe… top notch entertainment.

So all in all, a great day with the undead of old London town, and all for the price of £20!

I also called a scout master a paedophile outside of St Pancras station to which one of the scouts overheard and started to laugh (nervously?) and I was harassed by a Krishna dude to buy a book and come to their café, but he was nice so I didn’t feel the need to put him in a bin.



As ever those mad folk over at Feverish Fiction have gone and posted another one of my flash stories… so stoked to be part of this project!

Go check out the site and follow and like, leave comments and all that stuff… this week it’s Zombies, you lucky people!

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