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Help for the hindering

Let’s give a shout out to those people who never get shouted out to – those that go through life sort of expecting thanks, but never really getting it. The people that you try to ignore and forget about, but they stick there in your mind, annoying you to your very core every time they pop back up again. I’m talking, of course, about people who try and help when there’s no need for them to try and help.

I still get infuriated every time I remember the guy who stepped in after I’d been trying to make an epileptic man not crack his skull open on the pavement for 10 minutes. “I’m my office first-aider,” he said, “give him some space – don’t pin him down”. Well, fat boy – I wasn’t pinning him down. I am not a moron. He needed something to cushion the repeating bashing of his head on concrete, that being my hand. Hence the not giving him space thing.

He thought he was helping, he thought he was being the big man on campus. He was not. So I’d like to send out my massive thanks to that particular pile of idiotic poop. The best of intentions don’t make up for the fact you’re a moron, mate. And if you’re the work first-aider, the minute something bad happens it’s clearly going to be 9/11 Part II: 9/11 In Space.

Alright, so I’m failing to think of many more examples beyond the usual meddling old women who seem to be everywhere in Bournemouth. But you get the point. If you’re going to help, please actually help. Don’t just be an obstacle that thinks it’s helping things flow smoothly, you gimps.

No idea where this came from. Hmm.

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Cinemas: shit, or REALLY shit?

I haven’t been to the cinema in bloody ages. In fact, the last film I saw was Clash Of The Titans (Titans Will Clash) in 3D, which was absolute ass of the highest order. I think it was really expensive too, but then I didn’t pay for it so WHO GIVES A FUCK?

I am, today though, going to the flicks. The pictures. The cinema. The movies. The picture house. The other name for it. The porn salon. No, wait – not the last one. There I will watch The Hangover 2: Hangover In Space.

I do not expect much from the film. Mainly because I really loved the first one, and it absolutely did not need a sequel at all. Hopefully low expectations will be rewarded with some fun, though.

Anyway, I need a topic away from aimless rambling here… hmm… cinemas, yeah. They’re a bit shit really, aren’t they? I mean, you have to sit in a room with other people, and we all know how shit other people are. They’re all “blah blah” and MUNCH MUNCH and screaming stupidly and smelling bad and being alive and other crap.

God I hate them.

Then there’s the skin diseases you can get from cinemas. Seriously – when I went to see Rambo in Leeds I went really itchy on the seat then a few hours later half my body was covered in a horrible rash. I mean, it went away pretty quickly, but still – that’s fucking foul.

Then there’s the shit expensive food and drink that can barely be classified as either of the things they claim to be. The massively expensive tickets. The inconvenience of having to go there. THE PEOPLE.

Yeah, I think I’ve convinced myself not to go now. OPPS.

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Something, something, Temptation (the the Heaven 17 tune)

Temptation is an interesting thing. Especially how quickly I give in to it. Take every single time I’m in a pub, for example – I genuinely think I’ve managed to go for “one drink” a handful of times in my life, and I’ve been going to the pub since I was about 14*. Sometimes it’s been one or two extra, which is obviously understandable (and quite sexy). Then there are the other times. The Other Times. Where it turns into something quite special.

Most of those times I blame Ben. And they were definitely very sexy.

But temptation comes into so many other elements of life, not just my rampant alcoholism. There’s the much-documented gambling I did… do… won’t do anymore… will do again soon. There’s shit food. There’s talking to people you hate just because they amuse you somewhat. There’s that bit where you’re Jesus in the desert. There’s loads of temptation everywhere. There’s also Chris saying “one more?” Cock.

Is it so bad to give in to temptation? Surely the only reason we shy away from it is because the Bible told us to? And who gives a fuck about that claptrap? I mean, if it’s not killing you or really badly affecting how you cope in life or treat others, what does it matter that you’re giving in? Though I am just convincing myself to drink rum, eat a tub of ice cream and gamble a lot right now.

Probably shouldn’t listen to myself, then.

Also: CHICKENS DON’T CLAP.

*Yes, this means I’m well cool.

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Things I wouldn’t do

STILL NO PICTURE, STILL SCREW YOU.

Chatting earlier, I decided I would try and come up with a list of “things I would never do”. The first example I thought of, which actually prompted the creation of this list in my mind, was ‘shooting a monkey with a bazooka’. I can think of no reason in the entire history, present or future of my world where I would ever want to be placed in the situation where I have to shoot a monkey with a bazooka. And even if I was, I would likely have serious reservations about the whole endeavour.

But what else would go on the list? Can I honestly say I would never kill a man or woman (or child)? What if they were a threat to my own life, or that of a loved one? What if it needed to be done to save the world from mega-AIDS? What if they got in my way? I’m not sure if I could, in all honesty, put that on the list of things I would never do. Whereas monkey bazookaing is something I would see myself being able to turn down in most situations – after all, it’s just as easy to take a gibbon out with a machete – I don’t think it’s unreasonable to suggest I could be placed in a situation where I would find it justifiable, or at least ‘the thing to do at that point in time’ to kill someone. With a hammer. To the noggin.

I can’t even say ‘buy Nestle’ for the list, as sometimes I’ve been known to either buy their products without noticing (I didn’t realise they made a brand of bottled water) or I just really fucking want a Milkybar. Sometimes principles go out the window when only the best is good enough. The creamiest milk. The whitest bar. The good taste that’s in Milkybar.

I shall have to think of some more suggestions. Do you have any? Would you shoot a monkey with a bazooka? Hammer a toad to the back of a church? Punt an otter at the Pentagon? Give incorrect directions to an elderly racist? Your suggestions are (barely) welcome.

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Volcanoes: nature’s terrorists

There are things people are afraid of – some of them are silly, some of them are utterly ludicrous, some of them are fair, some of them are completely right, some of them are weird and so on and so forth. I know people scared of flying, those who fear the arachnid menace filling our British households with tiny, eight-legged freaks. I know those who constantly fear being mugged, stabbed, bummed in the gob or shot with a musket by an unknown assailant.

I know people who are scared of dying, all the time. Those who aren’t too pleased about the thought of getting old. Some who lose sleep over the thought of being alone. One who squeals at the sight of cotton wool.

I know people are scared of odd things, and I know them quite well. Also: I’m scared of volcanoes. And to be honest, I think it’s a more pertinent and correct fear to have than any other fear I’ve ever heard of. Why? These are scars in the earth that are set to explode.

If every volcano in the world just decided to erupt at the same time, the world would probably end. I have no actual evidence to back this up, but I reckon it’s pretty true. There are hidden supervolcanoes in certain places around the world that could kill millions with the least effort.

Lava can melt your soul. Explosive flying rocks will kill mercilessly and without reason. Volcanoes and earthquakes are best mates. Some volcanoes never stop erupting. One was even enough of a shit to stop people from making international flights. Sure, it wasn’t enough to kill anyone, but it’s just another reason why volcanoes are bastards: they sometimes do things just to be dickheads.

If I ever meet a volcano again (I met Teide in Tenerife, a few times. He is my nemesis) I’m going to smack it in its stupid face. Not too hard though, I don’t want it to go off.

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THIS TIME IT’S WAR

It’s here. I knew the days would arrive, as they do every year, but they hadn’t arrived with the force they normally do. As such I let my guard down. I became complacent. When it did strike, it was with the fury of a thousand nerds screwed out of a Q&A appearance by Edward James Olmos*. My body revolted, my face ejected all the fluids it could produce as fast as it could produce them and everything itched. Fuck you, hayfever.

But like I said earlier this year (this time last month, actually), I am trying new treatments. I am taking the fight to the pollen – though unfortunately not how I’d actually want to do it. With napalm. No, I’m adopting the newfound technique, as suggested by the also-suffering Swissgirl, of taking more than one hayfever tablet a day.

I know – it’s fucking mental.

But you know what? So what. If it kills me, it kills me – at least I’ll have died doing what I did all my life: trying to stop my nose from running as much as it always, always does. I considered lopping the schnozz off, but I couldn’t find a good enough knife. Or at least, a good enough knife that I would be allowed to use to de-schozz my face. As such, the only method available right now – as I’ve forgotten to bring my nose laser with me – is to take multiple tablets to ward off this pollenial incursion of epic proportions.

Wish me luck.

*Honestly, no idea why I went for this reference.

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I want me some roaming wiffy

Very quick entry as I’m doing this at 6am, before heading off oop north for work-related things.

I don’t like not having the internet. I don’t see why companies don’t have the internet spouting out of everything they run – especially trains. I know some have wifi available, and some (all) charge for it. Why can’t I have it for free? Actually, isn’t the Digital Economy thingy (is it still a bill now it’s passed?) trying to stop free, public access? Would that stretch to this fabled world where it’s free on a train? Still, Greyhound buses have wiffy, so I may just use them in future, if they ever start doing routes I want to use.

What I’m trying to say is: I need a dongle. I’m in too much of a rush to put an umlaut over the ‘o’ there, as Anna hilariously does (it is quite funny, I suppose). But these 3G things with the stupid name are all so annoying, rubbish or expensive. On one hand you have the fact that – apparently – connection levels for the likes of O2 and 3 are pathetic. Then there are those that don’t tie you down to an expensive contract, but do in fact tie you down to paying £5 every time you want to use the thing for a couple of days. I don’t want to do that. Then there are the ones that have decent coverage and offer reasonable prices, but you’re only allowed your own special slice of mobile internet for 30 days or so before they either demand more cash from you or just put your invisible space-information you had saved up in the bin.

It’s all so confusing. But I need to sort this out as I need me some internets on the go, so I can do things like this wherever I am and not have to weigh up the even more exorbitant charges from hotels and their ilk. Oh, also so I can ‘keep in touch’ ‘easier’ with ‘people’ like ‘the woman’, I suppose.

Aside from the ranty confusedness, does anyone have any doooooongle suggestions?

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