The Face Of Evil

Yeah that's right. Evil.

Here it is. The young, elderly, and vulnerable to images may want to shield their eyes.



No. For once, I do not mean Gordon Brown. I mean the bint in the middle. She is Jacqui Smith. She is the British Home Secretary. Jacqui is in dire need of a kick to the face. Right above the mouth, and between the eyes.

Some explanation perhaps.

Jacqui here, has recently, with 24 hours notice, announced that all immigrants must now carry RFID chipped ID cards.

"Big whoopdee-doo. They should go back where they came from." I hear waft over the seas to the shores of Sweden. The bigoted amongst you are misguided.

This will surely affect much more than you could possibly imagine. One man, employed a hundred UK citizens. He also sired two British children. He is not exempt from this rule. I do so dearly hope that those bigots that read this were employed by that man. You will now have no job.

The immigrants who were previously allowed into the UK under the "Highly skilled" banner, must now have a university degree, or leave. Nice choice.

I would be off in a shot. Any country that requires, by law, you to have a degree to enter, when the base level of intellect of that countries denizens is around that of a radish, is in some deep doo-doo.

This RFID chipped card that immigrants will have to carry, will be tied to certain national databases. Those of credit, if indeed there is credit to go around anymore, driving, health and spending. This bodes fantastically well for anyone among the 25 million people that have had their personal details lost by the government already.

The best part is yet to come though. Soon enough, this "trial" on immigrants will come to an end. In that EVERYONE will be required by law to carry a card. Fantastic. Trebles all round. Add to that the fact that the police are now allowed to stop and search anyone they please without any form of suspicion and you get a wonderful, wonderful possibility.

I truly hope that one day, a civil liberties minded policeman will routinely stop and search the members of the cabinet. Then arrest all of them not found carrying ID cards. I predict a high number of them would not carry the cards. But were they to be arrested under the dubious terror laws, then charged with impersonating a member of the cabinet. Then possibly have "coercion" used upon them to extract information, and why they know so much about the private lives of that particular cabinet member.

That would be a thing of beauty.

Irony I believe it is called.

Any takers?

"Those" Lists

You know of what I type. You receive them in mails from people who believe they are doing good deeds by forwarding something that will put you in a good mood all day, or boost your productivity due to your new rosy outlook on life.

Little do these do-good-ers know that my productivity is actually reduced from reading, occasionally in full, these ridiculous lists of oft "hilarious" information.

I hate those lists. So I have decided to take action. I have decided to dissect one of these lists and review the contents.

So, to the meat and potatoes of the issue.


A group of professional people posed this question to a group of 4 to 8 year-olds: 'What does 'love' mean?'


"Professional people"? I am considered a professional person. This definition worries me greatly. Are we letting random "Professionals" near our children? One could argue, that Ted Bundy was a "Professional", albeit in the realms of bludgeoning weapons and strangulation. Is this the kind of men we are trusting our children with?


The answers they got were broader and deeper than anyone could have imagined.



I don't know. I can imagine some crazy things.


'When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That's love.'
Rebecca- age 8


No Rebecca, that is the power of ladies not putting out unless they get something that they want. You will come to realise, then manipulate this fact later on in your life. In that order.


'When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different.
You just know that your name is safe in their mouth.'
Billy - age 4


Safe in their mouth? My name is not safe in any one's mouth. It is most commonly used in curses and diatribe. Once Billy grows up, he will find that there is only one thing that is truly safe in someone else's mouth. YOU KNOW.


'Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other.'
Karl - age 5


Wrong wrong wrong. Smelling each other is a fetish. Something that it is 79% likely that Karl will develop in his later life. Any fetish, not the specific fetish of smelling another person.


'Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs.'
Chrissy - age 6


Do your kids enjoy reading complicated literature? Do they like to "share"? They could be a COMMUNIST! Just like little Chrissy here, the Red Scare is real and a part of our daily lives. Way to depend on the state Chrissy! Why don't you just go and occupy Vietnam whilst your at it?


'Love is what makes you smile when you're tired.'
Terri - age 4


I don't mean to disparage against the biology teacher of little Terri here, but seriously? 4 years old and you haven't covered adrenal glands and endorphins yet? Perhaps you are a Creationist Biology teacher. If you are. Please die.


Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK.'
Danny - age 7


Welcome, Danny, to your first encounter with greed. Your mother is unable to give anything away without first taking some of it. Not even coffee! I hope your proud of yourself, mother of Danny. He will grow up to be another disillusioned male.


Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more.
My Mommy and Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss'
Emily - age 8


I'm glad that they look gross when they do that Emily. Otherwise, you would be an incestuous little blighter. One that thinks that the skank at the bar and the other drunk, male or female, are "really in love" when they are trying to eat each others face off.


'Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen.'
Bobby - age 7 (Wow!)


Actually, Bobby, I think you will find that sound is the burps of approval you gin soaked grandma is making, impatiently awaiting the only meal she doesn't cook once in a year.


'If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate,'
Nikka - age 6
(we need a few million more Nikka's on this planet)


Whoever is writing these comments after the "research" that is presented here is obviously mad about cloning. I mean totally bananas for sheep. Nuts about dogs. I'll stop that now. A few MILLION?! Obviously mad as a bag of cups.


'Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday.'
Noelle - age 7


That's just bad hygiene.


'Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well.'
Tommy - age 6


That is fear of not being able to find someone else during your twilight years.


During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling.
He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore.'
Cindy - age 8


Did you also notice the video camera in his hand? He uploaded that footage to YouTube you know. You knew that, right little Cindy? There is a whole bunch of graphic designers and nerds "lol"'ing at you right this second. At the time of publication, your video under "Noob tries to play piano in front of audience. Fails. Hilarious. OMWTFBBQ!" is a 2,345,345 views and rising.


'My mommy loves me more than anybody
You don't see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night.'
Clare - age 6


Is that because your daddy left you Clare? Is that the reason? Or is daddy still there, downstairs, at the bottom of a bottle of Jack's and embittered about how you have literally ruined his life. He doesn't kiss you because he doesn't love you. That is what you are saying.


Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken.'
Elaine-age 5


Elaine. Mommy is just afraid of getting HN-51. She knows the basics of food hygene. She knows that the largest piece of chicken is the one most likely to be undercooked. The one most likely to harbour disease and salmonella. She should know. She cooked it. Sexist.


Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Robert Redford.'
C hris - age 7


No C hris. (I'm guessing you are a hippy, to have a space in your name. Is it a silent Xylophone or something?) Robert Redford is ugly. Ugly like mouldy milk. Yes it takes a lot to make milk mouldy. I told you I could imagineer a lot. Most animals are more handsome than Robert Redford. Whilst we're on the subject (we are?), there is no such word as handsomer. Your comparative adjectives need work.


'Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day'
Mary Ann - age 4


That, my dear, is attention seeking in its most pure form. You will come to understand this, Mary Ann, when you grow up and wish to seek it yourself. I would advise taking the puppy course of action.


I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones.'
Lauren - age 4


Disillusionment. But hilarious in nature. This came the closest to putting a smile on my face. By smile, I mean removing the rictus. By close i mean in no way what-so-ever.


When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you.' (what an image)
Karen - age 7


Karen, your astrophysics knowledge is left wanting. Also it seems that you have learnt what love is from children's cartoons. I cannot fault you on part of that, being as you are obviously a child. But the lack of astrophysics? CONDEMNABLE. You should be shot. No trial. No jury. Just shot.


Love is when Mommy sees Daddy on the toilet and she doesn't think it's gross.'
Mark - age 6


One word Mark. Mystique. It is lost on your parents. They are not in love, they are just used to seeing that. Maybe you should introduce something into the equation to allow them to perk up their lives somewhat. It could also introduce a new element in the toilet gazing game they seem to play.


'You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget.'
Jessica - age 8


There is one other exception to this rule. It's when your mommy and daddy say it to each other. Also if a lady is going to give you sex for saying it. You needn't worry about this now Jessica, but at some point in the future, probably ten years from whenever this epic pile of detritus was written, you would be wise to remember it. But you won't. Then you will learn your lesson.

The Motherland

I recently returned to the UK.

Not permanently, but due to the ticking of the man made 4th dimension.

Time has passed and another relative added another year to the tally. This brought the total years of all that I know to 4576. Not including mine obviously. That would be ludicrous.

What other earthly pleasure could contend with that of riding the Picadilly line back into London from the wondrous Terminal 5 of Heathrow? Certainly none in the realm of mere mortals that is for sure. It would have to be some form of heavenly succor. An Elixir of the Almighty. The very nectar of the Gods, to be able to contend with reading Dirty Des' free paper.

The usual news jumped at me from the front page. "Housing crisis worsens!", "Taxpayers to foot the bill for Prime Ministers £91 million tax deal", "New record set by stabbings in a single night", "Coventry man ate my pigeons!". Just stuff that happens every day.

Then tucked inside the second page I saw it. Like a wart on the page. Jumping out at me as if it had all the locomotive power of a flea. Snagging in my mind like a wordy tumour.

"'Teach Creationism in Schools' Says Biology teacher."

I almost assaulted the nearest person. Unfortunately they had a camera, and I would not have enjoyed the visit to the police station that would surely have ensued. Had they caught me on camera before their last moments occurred.

Thoughts raced through my head. 'Are we that close to the US with our "special relationship" that we wish to adopt their idiotic teaching methods?

'Is there some way that I could kill this teacher and nip this in the bud before its too late and we all start speaking with an Alabama accent about the merits of an Earth 10,000 years old?'

'Where can I buy a gun?'

'Where can I buy two guns?'

'Is it possible to commission the making of a Biology Teacher Seeking Missile?'

'Where does this "Biology Teacher" live?'

'Is this all Tony "Faith Schools are OK" Blair's fault?'

'Seriously, where can I buy a gun?'

Like wasps they swarmed through my mind, stinging my intelligence with their faith based protrusions.

Why would we want to do this to ourselves? Blight our education excellence (*cough*) with people who have no basis for their ideas other than the greatest fictional work the world has ever seen, and fear?

When/if I decide to grace humanity with my progeny, there shall be no room for a misogynistic, sexist, retributional, vengeful asshat-figure in their lives.

None.

This Biologist. He is added to the list.

Bill O'Reilly

How is it possible that this man is still alive?

I would have thought someone in America would have killed him by now. It's not like they have a lot of housework to do now they don't have houses anymore. They must have loads of free time. Can't one of them find it in their hearts and now not so busy schedules to do the right thing?

Perhaps, in case you are not familiar with the wok of the man, some background is required.

Bill O'Reilly is an idiot. One that unfortunately has a TV show. It's OK though, it's on Fox "News", so can technically be pigeon holed under "unintentional comedy".

Bill O'Reilly is also unhappy with being wrong, which must be difficult for the man due to his unerring ability to be wrong. He has it down to a fine art. Even kids can see it. Even rappers.

It's not just that he is wrong though. This, on it's own, is not usually enough to incense me to actually pen sentances.

He is loud. To the point of "If I'm loud, surely I must be right. Right?" Which is a shame, as it means that any guest on his show that is of vague interest cannot be heard of over the tirade of tired pro-bible, pro-America, pro-Rupert Murdoch, anti-abortion, anti-homosexuality, anti-cut and run drivel that shoots forth from the man's mouth.

Even the embodiment of awesome that is Richard Dawkins was not to be spared from chit chat that completely ignores the issue.

This is what it has come to then. Issuing a paper on Bill O'Reilly.

America should be less concerned with the race for President. I'm sure it has already been arranged by the Bush dynasty anyway. Concern yourself with getting rid of the chaff from the wheat.

Bill O'Reilly is chaff. He is cuffing chaff.

In his ret.

Kill him now, before it is too late to save the children.

Baggage Handlers

I've been flying a lot recently. You may think this is just one part of my executive-high-flying lifestyle, and you would be correct.

Not only has my person been transported over international borders recently, but so too have my belongings, although I believe the person came off the better of the two.

I was recently sat at the rear of the plane, for the exit and bulkhead related leg-room. As I awaited the rest of the passengers to realise that if you have found your seat, sitting in it and letting everyone else pass makes boarding go A LOT quicker, I noticed the skill and delicacy of the baggage handlers.

It was a show like no other. Swan Lake has nothing on Gatwick Airports baggage handlers for sheer dexterity and gracefulness of movement. It was as if the very spirit of nimbleness and sleight of hand was putting on a show just for me.

It made me realise what could have possibly happened to the possessions I recently lost on the voyage to Sweden through breakage.

Baggage handlers happened.

How much effort does it take really? The man I saw, if man can be used to describe the beast that befell my eyes, his one remaining eye rolling wildly, seemed to think handling meant throwing. His only useful life skill, that he had hands, for handling bags.

The veracity with which he threw the bags around onto the conveyor was amazing. It was like he was born for it or something.

Something.

Then there are the strikes. How many times have they put off thousands of people's holidays, all for an extra few quid? I think it is the fact that they themselves are not going on holiday that irks them so.

I never put my baggage in the hold of the plane for their ilk. I may have something in it I want to keep.

A pox on them.

Enough is Enough.

I have had it. Not with blogging, although it does deserve my vitriol and distaste. Not with writing, for it throws up such wonderful opportunites as a "Writers holiday to Amsterdam" to "Work on a script".

I've had it with complacency.

Too long have I stood by the side and not written something. A very intelligent man once told me, that if anything, I should "just keep writing". He was right that intelligent man. Perhaps this could go some way to explaining why he was intelligent in the first place.

Too long have you, my valued two readers had to wait, day upon day for me to update.

From now on it will be different.

From this day forth it will be QUANTITY, not QUALITY.

You're consumers, the both of you. You will go elsewhere if I do nothing.

I shall start to pander to your desires, Like Brittney Spears to the Papparazzi.

I'm not going to shave my head, but I will shave your hair off with my razor sharp witticisms and dreams of self import.

The first to fall under my wrath shall be those of lazy employment. That does not mean me. That means baggage handlers.