Saturday, 7 February 2015

Top Trumps With A Twist.

Apologies to my loyal followers for the lack of activity lately. Also, added apologies in advance for this very activity you're about to read.....I'm adding this having finished.....I wouldn't bother doing likewise if I were you. Maybe you should though, like when you're watching a god-awful film but feel obliged to see it through to the bitter end, if only to see if the ending is as poor as what preceded it. Yeah, let's go with that vibe.....for every blog, from here on in.

As you may have read in my last entry, I have to be somewhere other than my lovely sofa for 37 hours of the week.....goodbye 'dream life'. I miss the arse groove that I've been cultivating for ten months. Being torn away from that couch must feel similar to being part of a family segregated as a result of genocide or social cleansing. It's been a wrench and I've not quite recovered an age old Oak Tree that's been uprooted from its turf and roots. I'm all over the shop.

Despite this upheaval, I'm back to entertain you and furthermore bring joy to your pathetic little lives. That might sound harsh, but unless your life was pathetic, why else would you be reading this? Don't go! Please!!! I was only's banter! I have issues with "bants"'s confusing. Isn't it just being as insulting and churlish as possible and getting away with it? "I was only being churlish.....!". "Oh, that's ok then, you mean spirited GIT!" See where I'm coming from? Me neither.

Anyway, a few things caught my beleaguered attention this week. I say that because I've spent the entire week trying awfully to make myself look even vaguely competent. It's a tough ask....but so far, so good. I've said it before and I'll say it again, it's hard being me.

Firstly, I allowed myself to watch Good Morning Britain (or whatever it's branded as these days) this week. During my abstinence from working duties, I'd almost banned myself from watching breakfast television....I didn't feel worthy of sitting in the company of Reid, Garraway, Glitter et al. I know Gary Glitter isn't part of the team, but one can dream. I'm not a (complete) sicko, I just love the idea of the safest mode of television being infiltrated by pure evil, inducing mass-puking of cereal, countrywide, akin to the pie-eating competition on 'Stand By Me'. As Garraway introduces competition number 1,362 of the morning to the increasingly existentially sanitised public, in walks Gary, boom-ba-ba-ba-ing and pedo'ing GMTV to a brave new world. Is it me or is Gary Glitter being guilty of sex-offences a universally known fact, for at least a decade? Jimmy Savile might have stolen the pedo limelight in recent years but for me, Glitter is the true original. The Coca-Cola to Saviles Pepsi, equally as evil but at least one is traditional and a good mixer. "GG" is like the MVP of the paedophile world, isn't he?.....anyway, I'm just looking forward to Top Trumps - 'The Paedophile Edition'....that'll put all this to bed I'd imagine. Until then, the pub arguments will rage on...alongside the "was he offside" debate. I'd like to think a pedophile is always offside, or else we've completely lost our moral compass. I've lost my thread here slightly.

Where was I? Oh yes.....the feature. The feature, which borrowed heavily from the One Show in that no thought or actual research had been performed before screening it, one can only assume this is because nobody gives a shit whether something is great or anti-great anymore? Can someone please tell me why there are absolutely no standards on television "nowadays"? It was about kids birthday parties and how they've spiralled out of control in recent years.

I can deal with the extravagance of a Royal Wedding......we all got the day off, yay. I can even cope with the mind blowing cash-wasting brown-nosing fest that stems from a celebrity wedding/awards ceremony/funeral. We get to laugh at them and count our lucky stars that we don't have the (in most cases, faux) talent to have become one of their breed and with it, receive an invite. What I'm struggling to come to terms with, is the ridiculous state of affairs that is the modern birthday party. Now, I'm going to sound old fashioned here.....I DON'T CARE EITHER. I don't care, because I had THE BEST BIRTHDAY PARTIES, EVER. I should have held the CAPS back for that "EVER" as it didn't have the impact I wanted it warranted or deserved. I'll go back and underline it.......there, that's better. Do you feel part of my writing process now? It's like a VIP pass to my after-show blog party, you lucky slags! When I'm a big-time blogger, you can all apply to be an AOB roadie, I won't discriminate......although successful applicants will most probably be female, semi-attractive, insecure, have low self-esteem and most importantly, be dead inside.

So, b'day parties. Do you know what my parties consisted of? This is going to blow your minds. FREEDOM! Yes, 'alone' time.....adults buggering off and letting us kids, be kids. This 6 year old in the GMB feature was being thrown a 'Reptile Party'. Snakes, insects and all sorts of ungodly creatures were caged up in the conservatory. They were a well-off family, see: 'Conservatory'....see also: 'Appearing on live Breakfast television'. Daddy had a snake around his neck and sleeve tattoos on both arms. Mummy was a pretty blonde peice who clearly liked a bit of rough......far be it from me to stereotype or make any sweeping generalisations, or course. It wasn't even the lads' birthday, yet he was forced to blow out candles as they closed out whilst his mum said happy birthday.....even though it wasn't. How hollow.

Poor blighter, a prisoner in world contextualised by adults in their pursuit of giving their offspring the childhood "THEY never had"......what have we become? The general consensus amongst "children of the 80's" is that we had it better than any other generation of children. So why on earth is it that that generation of prospective parents that decided to bloody ruin it?! As quickly as we poison the planet and the soil we walk upon, we poison the minds of the children we love and cherish. They don't need snakes, hired entertainment, a guest list, a tailor made cake.....they need their closest friends and adventure.  I remember my mum buying a personalised birthday single on vinyl for me once.......when she played it, I couldn't handle it and promptly saturated my milky cornflakes with tears. I don't think I would have dealt with an 'It's My Birthday, Get Me Out Of Here' situ.......I wonder if Paul Burrell was drafted in as the entertainment to reenact his 'Bush Tucker Hell Hole' incident.....I may have to revoke my entire argument if that were to happen.

The bottom line is that it's all down to peer pressure and our seemingly unquenchable desire to live up to "expectations", it's an increasingly slippery slope and one that only becomes unhealthier by the year. Do yourselves a favour, do your own thing and refuse to participate...let's end this bollocks, yeah?

Talking of parties, I witnessed a surprise birthday party tonight in the pub, consisting of purely deaf people. They were lovely people, I found them so much more friendly and unassuming as their able-eared counterparts. As they sat there and chatted via sign language, I did fantasise about being part of their group. At least I wouldn't have to worry about awkward silences anymore. Every cloud really does have a silver lining.

I have other issues to speak of......but as my most immediate issue is meeting some people for a drink, they can wait.  I'm not even quality-checking this one......YES, I USUALLY QUALITY CHECK MY BLOGS.

Until next time, my pedigree chums.

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