Monthly Archives: January 2013

The power of the McInterweb thingy!

Over the last few years we have seen the huge escalation of people shopping on the internet rather than hitting the high street and there are several good reasons of that.

internet-shoppingFirst off it’s a hell of a lot easier to find what you are looking for on the web.  Ever made the trip to the shops only to find that they don’t have the thing you wanted.  It’s even worse when you go out of your way to go all the way to London to buy a Celtic Frost t-shirt that they said they had on their website only to get there to find the place had shut down and was now an Egyptian knockoff leather bag shop.

Secondly, it’s so much easier to find yourself a bargain without having to really shop around.  With the shopping tab on Google you get a list of prices at different retailers so you can get the best deals without having to do the leg work.  Handy if you are a pure lazy shite.

This is why stores like HMV and Blockbuster have gone to pot because they refused to sell stuff at a reasonable price and what they actually stocked was exactly specialist.  I remember once I wanted a copy of Tenebre on DVD and found a copy in HMV Oxford Street, it was fucking £17.  I later found a box set of Dario Argento movies that had Tenebre in there online for £10… goodbye HMV, you will be sorely missed.

And the store they had at Bluewater was the worst, have you ever been in there?  Their metal section was fucking depressing.  Blink 182 is not fucking metal… do the people that work in there even listen to music?  I don’t expect that they do because they wouldn’t be working in that rat hole.

I knew they were in trouble when they announced that they would no longer be employing people that had tattoos, piercings and coloured hair, in so doing forcing 75% of their staff to quit and alienating the people that would want to work for them and (more importantly) buy goods from them.  I have tattoos so I took the standpoint of never going in there again.  Low and behold these corporate music fascists went tits up… GOOD!

Now I have mates that work for them and for these people I feel a little sad for as there is little to no work out there at the moment for people that can only (and poorly may I add) alphabetise a world cinema DVD section on some shelving.  I wish you all well.

But then we come back to what people think of you just by your appearance.  Like I say I have plenty of tattoos all over the place and I’m not the most well-dressed of people if I’m honest.  I’m more of your shorts and a t-shirt kind of guy.  I constantly ware a trucker cap and you can guarantee that most of my trousers are some kind of camouflage.  Just had a count up and I have 8 camos, 2 jeans and 2 pairs of black riggers… that’s not including my shorts.

But I have a full time job and money in my pocket yet I get constantly followed by security when I go shopping.  The fact that I earn more money than the bloke stalking me down the aisles holds no weight with this div and while he is harassing me a well-dressed kid with a neat haircut has just walked out with two bottles of brandy in his coat.

I have (on occasion) confronted a security guard to ask him why he was following me, and stated that I didn’t appreciate that the man was staring at me while I shopped and he retorted that I “seemed like the type that would steal.”  I pointed out that he looks like the type that would rape children to which the security guard became physically aggressive towards me and expected an apology, I told him to go fuck himself.

I never got an apology for his slanderous comment… I am no longer allowed in the Dartford branch of Waitrose.

I never go around and instantly judge a person by the way they look but then I have grown up as a bit of an outsider as I listened to death metal as a kid and grew up as a ‘grunger’ or when I was a kid ‘freak’!  The amount of times that has been shouted at me in the street when I was a kid was unreal and it was usually followed by a bottle or a punch.  Small town life, right?

gurnI don’t like it when I get lumped in with those mindless head-banging types that take wrestling seriously and like bands like Machine Head.  I really don’t have much to do with that side of ‘metal’ probably why I don’t listen to too much of it nowadays.

I don’t think that it is as bad today as it was when I was a teenager due to the influx of nu-metal being played on the mainstream music channels and the introduction of party drugs such as MDMA into the teenage consciousness.  Trust me it doesn’t matter what you fucking listen to when you are full of that stuff, you just want to hug people and talk shit for a few hours.

So in conclusion… Drugs have united the yoof into a mass of jaw grinding, gurning ravers that will hopefully get everything in the big shopping centres shut down because they are too hanging to go to the shops and will do all their shopping online.

They are the future and that scares the shit out of you doesn’t it!?

Just move the fucking bricks mate!

It amazes me how most people take their job for granted especially in times like these where jobs are hard to come by.

I hate my job but I don’t carry on about it; I’m forced to do overtime every night but I hardly ever complain.  I am asked to do jobs that I am not contractually obliged to do but I do them with little fuss; maybe the odd murmur of which I get shot down and made out that I’m being a cunt.

Well, I think that all the petty shit that goes with any job is just that; nothing but petty shit.  I just want to go to work, do my job and go the fuck home so I can get on with creating a better life for myself through study and hard graft.  You can stick all your in house politics and squabbles that really mean fuck all square up your arses.

wankI have always had an outside attitude when it comes to work, I have never wanted some kind of managerial status and I’m almost incapable of fucking people over for no other reason than to clime some ladder that means absolutely nothing.  I have a mind-set that will not let me become part of the hive mentality and I have no want to fit into any kind of corporate structure.  I prefer jobs working outside like a grounds man or game park warden, something near nature, something mellow with little to no interaction with people.

I want a job where I’m not asked where I might see myself in a year’s time because I really don’t know.  I had a great job once as a grounds man over Essex; a massive industrial estate with loads of woodland nearby that I had to tend to and situated in that green area was an old church that dated back to the Norman’s, around 1080 something.  Awesome, loved every second I was there but had to leave after a couple of years because I moved and the travel costs were just too high.

And it was great for my creative side as I was never stressed out, I pottered about at work, got all muddy and covered with grass and had long walks in the countryside everyday then went home and made music; cool beans.

That’s the difference between creative people and working people.  The working types, especially in business think that the creative types are just wasting their time messing about while ‘us’ creative types are more than happy to float from job to job earning the minimum required to feed, clothe and house us but for the greater good of our art.  I don’t want a job that basically becomes my life; I don’t want to be kept awake at night over something that at the end of the day really doesn’t matter.  Work isn’t real life… you work to live, not the other way around and a lot of people forget that.

That’s why I never waste a moment of my time out of work just sitting around doing nothing.  I don’t own an Xbox or PlayStation and I hardly go to the pub, all in my mind ways to waste my life doing nothing.  I would rather write something, draw or just jam on my guitar for a little bit; get out and about and take some photos of places of interest.  Fuck just sitting in my pants with a controller in my hand; I might as well just die now.

I don’t want to be on my deathbed having my only achievements being completing a few computer games, no thanks not for me.

thames-estuary-460_1117071cI love walking down by the river following the sea wall.  Down past the marshes and the anti-terrorist training camp; past the old derelict fort, out into the open waste of the estuary where the wind whips up and stings your face, forcing you to pull up your collar and tighten your scarf.  I love how barren the place is and the way the greyness of the water meets the greyness of the sky.  On the right sort of morning you cannot see the horizon, just a sheet, blending from brown to pure white lined on either side by the green of the forests and the twisted steel of old gun towers and rust orange cranes; all the while the power station on the other side of the water pumps thick smoke into the atmosphere and its blast furnaces reverberat through the soft ground underfoot.  The air heavy with fine rain and the smell of salt and silt from the mudflats that replace what should be a beach and I watch the marsh hares dart throuth the long grass as I stroll home to enjoy my slow cooked rabbit stew.

Now if a business type bloke wrote that last paragraph it would probably read a little like this…

Went for a walk on Sunday, it was cold and the place smelt like shit.  The power station made a buzzing sound and I wondered how much money it generated each year.  I saw a big rabbit and threw a stone at it but i missed and it ran away.  It started to rain so I went back to the Range Rover.  Had burger king on the way home; back to work Monday, oh joy.

Yeah, I’d rather be a writer than a ‘boss’… besides I haven’t got the heart to fire anyone… or maybe that means that I have got a heart?

Fuck it, back to work Monday… oh joy!

I can see it in my crystal balls!

Recently I’ve had a few weeks off of writing and blogging and college and whatnot and I think that this has done me a favour.  For a while back at the end of 2012 I was starting to think that I had dried up a bit, lost a lot of my anger and this was clouding my creative process a little.

But then it was the end of a very good, if not mentally busy year for me filled with personal victories and obstacles overcome.  I was getting great feedback from college, I had managed to hold down a full time job for more than a year (of which I still have) and I managed to get myself published; not just on the net at several sites but in actual print.  So yeah, not a bad year.

But it had drained me somewhat…

…until last Saturday night when I happened to stumble upon the newest lame horse ITV had trotted onto the course with… ‘SPLASH!’

So I get that it’s a backlash from last year’s Olympic hedonism and probably just the right amount of nostalgic kitsch that this country needs after a massive summer high to see us through the dreary winter months; but for fuck sake why?

Swimming SharksWhy that unfunny streak of shit Vernon Kaye?  Why such a low budget and poor quality of celebrities?  And still the biggest puzzler; why that fat miserable man hating fuck, Joe Brand?  She has to my knowledge never been funny; she just bangs on about being fat, her menstrual cycle and how shit in bed her husband is (how he hasn’t beaten the shit out of her I will never know.)

Even in the height of her fame she just came across as a boring feminist that ate too fucking much cake, had a crap sex life and refused to exercise.  How she is still on the TV is beyond me and the fact she is a judge on a show about sport is fucking insulting.  She throws in a joke about her looking like a beached whale in a bathing suit, Vernon pulls a off a transparent fake laugh and its over to a training montage of Omid Djalili belly splashing his way into casualty.  GO FUCK YOURSELF ITV!

It’s amazing how ITV can take a great idea with the potential to be quite glamorous and glitzy and dumb it down into something cheap and idiotic with the simple application of some z-list celebrities and sporting nobody’s.  Who the fuck actually gives a flying shite about high diving anyway?  I have never been in the bookies to overhear an ageing punter putting a fiver down on the young Korean 6 to 4 long shot in the 10 meter event.  Its utter bollocks and I want to drop-kick Vernon off of that high board and get to raping that Gabby Logan tart for the home audience while firing a crossbow indiscriminately into the poorly numbered crowd.  Stick a soundtrack on that you cunts.

I am not even joking when I say I want to see someone smack their head on the way down.  That would be hilarious, that ‘actor’ bloke from the show ‘Benidorm’ floating face down as they hurriedly cut to an ad break, a real slice televisual gold!

Do you remember when they used to ask the contestants questions on game shows;  now all they have to do is tackle a foam padded assault course or fall off of something into a pool, where did it all go wrong?

Well I’ll tell you… Deal or no deal!

A concept so simple that even the most heavily brain damaged chimp could take part.  No questions, no obstacles, all the contestants have to do is open a few boxes.  And the viewing public went mental over it.

Noel-Edmonds-001It almost became a cult a one point with Noel Edmunds strutting around with his bright shirts, geometrically etched beard and positivity symbols drawn on his hand like a new age Jim Jones.  The fact that the people that take part actually come on with a strategy proves that mankind is doomed.  Its pot luck you morons; it cannot be changed by ‘positive vibes’ from your friend in the east wing.  Just chaos in its purest form and nothing more; if you are reading more into this show or actually still watching that shit then you should just take your own life because you serve no function in modern society and are part of the worlds ‘stupidity’ problem.  Drink the Koolaid dicksplash!

They should just cut out all the bullshit and cut it down to 2 minutes runtime by just having the contestant pick one box, open it and that’s it; no bollocks, no superstition and no Noel talking about touching the screen and sending vibes for the contestant.  It really isn’t Schrödinger’s cat; it’s something much worse, it’s selling false hope to stupid people.

It doesn’t matter how positive you feel or what strategy you bring to the ‘House of Dreams’ your still thick and I hope you go home with nothing!

Bloody hell, for someone that hasn’t blogged a bit of bile for a while that went rather well didn’t it… and for all of you that think I have lost a little of my anger… SUCK MY FAT ONE… let’s see your fucking blog… TWATS!

I think this means I’m a proper author or something now due to the lovely people at Booksharp independent book store in my hometown of Gravesend being so kind and stocking Feverish Fiction Vol1.

I feel really stoked to be part of this project and can’t wait for the second season to start up so I can get writing flash again.


Go so many plans for this year, a couple of novellas, some shorts for submission and my second year of college where I will be doing journalism (I think!)

So get down the shops and support!


Just a brief one…

So the festive season comes stumbling out of the bathroom after puking up all that New Year’s booze and crawls back into bed for another year, and thank fuck it’s over.

You have seen off the last of the cold cut sandwiches and shouted yourself horse with Christmas number one’s  and festive cheer; you have photocopied your bare arse and genitals at a couple of works do’s and parties and got off with some tart you have never met before at midnight on New Year’s.  Well done you.

No more having to be nice to family, no having to make an effort to ‘catch up’ with folk that you’ll probably just bump into anyway down the pub anyway.  Gone are the days of worrying whether you have bought enough cards, wrapping paper or got enough stuffing for the whole family to trough through, no more will your house be filled with gannets  squabbling over the last ‘purple one’ out of the quality street.  And a slight peace has fallen over the town as the populace has a mild hangover and isn’t braving the outside world for anything more than a paper and a coffee.

For the first time in a long time I went to ASDA to get some groceries and the place was nearly dead, heaven.

jane-fondaBut now comes the time when the gorging must come to a stop, the gluttony of another year comes crashing to a halt with the release of a hundred and one celebrity work out DVD’s; it’s time to make those resolutions people.

I think it was due to a Jane Fonda’s workout video of my mum’s that I became sexually aware as a child, seeing her wearing a leotard and leggings getting her leg behind her head.  I didn’t know why a wanted to see more of it I just knew that I did and it was making my tummy feel funny.

But as far as resolutions go you get the obvious ones like ‘I want to lose a little weight’ or ‘I want to give up smoking’ but I can’t make anything like this because I don’t have the will power not to be a slob.  I have said that I am cutting back on the booze and I have managed to stick to it over Crimbo and have even managed to partake on a night down the pub without waking up the next day feeling like complete shit.

So that’s not really a resolution worth noting as I made the division to reign in my urge to get fucked up long before the new year.

And the whole losing weight thing really isn’t for me, I’m not the most active of folk if I’m honest and I have already started to eat as healthy as I can anyway so no real point picking that one.

If I’m honest I don’t think I have ever really made any kind of resolution, I have made plans for the new year before but I have never felt the need to restrict myself from something that I have grown so used to doing and enjoy doing like smoking or eating cheeseburgers, I don’t want to give up those things, and I can’t see myself doing aerobics in a yellow leotard.

I have said that when I (eventually) move house I will buy myself a new bike, something a little pricey and sturdy so I can get back out there and enjoy a little cross-country like the good old days.  I just haven’t got the room and I really don’t trust anyone around these parts to warrant buying one… yet.  Maybe a Giant or a Trek, shit I think I am getting old if I want a trek, it’s like buying a car because it gets good mileage.

new_years_eve_getaways_600x450For me, that’s the point in a new year’s resolutions, make plans rather than rules because you’re more likely to stick to a plan than some kind of forced regimen, and this year I have plenty of plans.  I made a few plans last year and saw them through and done loads of stuff that I wanted to do without the aid of a motivational DVD or a book that would help me live forever, just a little (a lot) hard work and focus.

So to all you lot out there that are going cold turkey on the fags or shopping for leg warmers and joining that gym online that you will hardly ever go to, I salute you.  I give you a couple of months and you’ll be back to normal in no time, back to your old ways before you know it, I however will be too busy to care or notice as I have plans make, goals to make and loose ends to tidy up.

Now if you’ll excuse me I have a steak and cheese sandwich to cook up and I have to get to the offy to by some ciggies before they shut.

Happy New Year!

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