Adopting An Attitude

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Those are the letters spelled out when you whack your forehead against your keyboard in frustration.

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……..Is what is spelled out when you whack your forehead against the keyboard and then roll it from side to side in the hope that when you have stopped, you’ll either have drawn blood, the world will be a better place or you will have brain damaged yourself to the point where it seems quite acceptable that a story about a pop star adopting a child is getting so much media coverage.

And what media coverage it is. You can see the editors of TV programmes and newspapers furiously wanking with demented pleasure as they bark orders into phones, the receivers of which are getting heavier with spittle by the syllable. Let’s get photographers, hundreds of them, to get a picture of the kid. Let’s jam cameras in his face, let’s stake out the pop stars home. Let’s have pictures, let’s have ‘experts’, let’s have comment and analysis because if we have enough sound and fury, the stupid of the world will not notice there is no news.

The media is furious. Pop stars should know their place and that place is to be aloof and glittery. As for African children, they should know their place too - which is to stare out of pictures with those big eyes, starving to death. They should not be whisked through airports after travelling first class.

Probably, Madonna just wants another child because she wants to ensure she can continue to use the mother and baby car-parking space in her local supermarket. Certainly, judging by the sort of people that actually use them, adopting a kid for this purpose would fit right into their normal behaviour pattern.

Personally I don’t give a shit about these baby and mother car parking spaces - if you want to bring your kid to the supermarket, fine, but don’t expect special treatment. Just because you got pissed on cheap vino a few years ago and had unprotected sex with some desperate horny fuckwit does not give you the right to park closer to the supermarket than me.

Or maybe it does.

I’ll make a deal. If your progeny behaves in the store you can park where you like. That’s no shouting, screaming, running or snatching stuff off shelves.

Too much to ask? Thought so.

I have no problem with people snatching kids from African countries. Really, what was the future for that kid? Did it involve a privileged and monied upbringing and a private school education? Possibly not. Civil war and AIDS? Almost certainly.

I don’t have a problem with this at all. In fact the way to do it is to get a Range- Rover, ram-raid the orphanage and scoop up a whole lot of kids, then drive non-stop across Africa and Europe to offer these kids something better.

Obviously there would have to be a couple of stops on the way to sell a few of the kids to shoe and textile manufacturers (for slave labour) to offset the expenses, but as these products are bought in such numbers in the west there’d be no moral objection. I mean, have you seen the MPG on a Range Rover????

More Food Faddery

When faced with a complex problem or illness there’s nothing like suggesting a quack ‘alternative’ cure - shoving a banana up your arse to cure colon cancer for example. (Peel it first - you don’t want to look foolish in the ER).

Of course, all cures are found in nature, it’s just that drug companies spend a lot of time and money combining them into the right doses. For instance, they have to get the tiger-bollock to bear-bile to baby-penguin-beak proportions just right to make Viagra actually work. No??....Alright smart-arse, you tell me what’s in it then!

Luckily we no longer have to wander into a health food store to get healthy food - this is good news if you don’t speak fluent ‘Beard’. You can simply go to your local supermarket, pick up an apple and admire its smooth glossiness and colour, then put it back, pick up the whizened windfall next to it bearing an ‘organic’ sticker and make your way to the check-out, secure in the knowledge that the purchase of organic food is doing you good, because it costs so much you’ve had to cut down on the booze you were going to buy.

At some point in this process you may make the mistake of calculating the value of the apples you used to see lying on the ground underneath a neighbour’s tree when you were a kid. You may want to have a little weep at this point.

To cure this depression, a visit to a real health food store is encouraged. This is because it’s impossible to feel depressed when you feel smug, and that’s what health food stores sell, smugness. That and bran. The folk behind the counter wear beards, beads, sandals and sweaters that have been ethically knitted by well-paid peasants. Of course people who eat in MickeyD’s also wear garments hand-stitched by peasants in the third-world, it’s just that these tend to be trainers (with a swoosh) and they tend to be put together by children in sweatshops.

A visit to a health food shop usually results in two things: being stalked by squirrels anxious to get their hands on your fruit and nut mix; and the kind of catastrophic bowel movement that is so long you have to send a postcard to friends half-way through to reassure them you are still alive.

The best cure for depression is straightforward.

It’s called Cherry Garcia.

Raging in Torrents

I now have conclusive evidence that most of the drivers of 4x4s fall into two categories, arrogant or stupid.

1st of October was downpour day here in the green-again county of Kent (motto: it's green 'cos it rains a lot dumb-ass!). The thunder has rumbled all day and the clouds have boiled across the sky, big and black with hints of grey and bruise. Now and again they shake like a dog and decant their contents.

This has resulted in the roads of the area having their own little brooks as gutters overflow, as well as pools and, I bet, the occasional Mead-like lake. It also means that people start to drive like retards.......Or park like retards.

Obviously, those shopping in M&S in Hemstead must be thrilled that a designated 4x4 parking area has opened up for them. It's painted bright red and has the word 'bus stop' written on it, but this does not stop them from filling it with eight 4x4s. It did stop the bus, obviously, and meant that anyone that was infirm or had a buggy or, you know, just wanted to keep dry had to walk into the road but sod it, all that matters is that the fat, sweating, ugly , fucking fucked up fuckers in their 4x4s get their raspberry pavlovas that much quicker. I hope they fucking choke on them.

They annoy me....does it show?

Obviously they're all driven by someone called Gomer who has a metal plate in his head and has been hit by lightening so often that his nick-name is 'Rod'.

This is a truth stumbled on late in life that is disappointing - the truth is that there are people who are just too stupid to be trusted with a car. genuinely, they do not have the mental ability to pilot the damn thing at 30 miles an hour, Christ knows what happens to them when they get onto the Motorway - actually I know, they sit in the middle lane drooling and thinking that an RV nor a trailer would make their lives complete.