It made me wonder why people are so drawn to things like facebook or whatever, checking them repetitively in hope that something might be different on the internet in the last 38 seconds, if you managed to stay away from the keyboard for that long. I wonder what makes people so drawn to that kind of anticipation that someone might have poked you, or provides that adrenaline surge when you see the friend request icon light up with a little number next to it, only to find it’s someone you’re not really that bothered about.

It reminds me about how much I love telly.

Brand Loyalty

With telly, people spend years in total of their life sat quietly, staring into space, without thinking, and vacant. It provides you with brand loyalty campaigns, such as the last advert that featured a cute little stuffed meerkat whose quirky noise and friendly insurance comparisons help to drive the premiums of car insurance policies to the asinine shitbag heights that they are today. All this while you get some knob going “I got my insurance cheaper” by deciding which subsidiary of the same company they were going to take out a policy with.

I wonder how the commission gets paid for all of this.

Anyway, enough of that. I’m beginning to sound like my dad.

Where was we? Ah yes, telly. I don’t miss watching it at all. It’s surprising the amount of things one can accomplish when telly doesn’t take up one’s precious time. Bear in mind though that this is coming from someone who spends most of their time in front of a computer, although I’m convinced that this is probably not as bad.

Life Offline

This past however long I’ve been offline (time stops for me when I can’t see a clock on screen below and to my right) I’ve been grafting away on a personal investment of mine, which should pay off handsomely any time around the beginning of September. Let’s just say I’m a tad excited about that. I’m not allowing myself to enjoy this sentiment though, since I have still got work to do if I’m going to have a chance to see this investment pay off.

While the internet was gone I started to notice other things about people that I never previously picked up on since I was too busy doing something on the internet to notice. They were quite interesting and told me a lot. There is a lot a person can learn about themselves and perhaps others when stripped of their every day luxury of phone and internet. Subsequently a lot of contacts on my phone have now vanished with some (or quite likely most) that will probably not return.

Now I’m back online with a fresh zeal to get skull fucked by every privacy policy that I didn’t read.

Home Sweet Home

Caught up with an old mate of mine the other week. Jobseeker’s Allowance. Nothing new, just the same old shit. Staff look a bit rattier than they did last time I went in though, wonder what’s rattled their cages. I sat down to wait in front of some massive meat head who looked like he was going to scalp me or something, he was looking at me with this sort of strange sideway squint as if he was trying to boil a bottle of milk with his mind. Then I realised he was staring at my Will Riker t-shirt that reads “I’m number one!” with a massive picture of Riker looking all smug with his beard.

You can tell when people are new to Jobseeker’s Allowance by looking at the other people waiting around to be seen by someone.

A regular just has this scowl on their face, hardly says two words to someone, can’t wait to get the form signed so that they can get the fuck out of there and far away as soon as possible. This only differs if they are returning to the jobcentre from either employment or satisfactory drug dealing profits, where they are wondering where the first piss take is going to take place, whether in the jobcentre or a few weeks down the line. There is no fooling them, they know it’s coming.

A newcomer’s experience is quite different. It’s a confusing one. I have seen newcomers all the time; you can spot them out easily with their dress like they made an extra bit of effort to go and sign on, chatty friendly conversation with the staff who haven’t taken the complete and utter piss out of them yet, and last but certainly not least, utter confusion. I have never seen anyone in my life look so confused as they do their first time in the jobcentre.

You can almost read their mind, remembering their thoughts just like the day when it was you wondering just what the fuck is going on here. Anyone who has been on the dole will probably know what I’m talking about; “Do they really pay someone to JUST do that all day!?” “Why can’t you see me now you’re not even fucking doing anything!?” “Am I supposed to go and get someone or do I just stand here until someone notices that I’ve been lurking around for such a long time?” “Why is the security guard asking me how he can help?”

Signing on is horrible for people who don’t dig obligations, and there’s quite a few of them knocking about in the jobcentre. It makes for good people watching at least.

Blast off into space.

Here are a few circumstances where one might use the term “fag and a brew” while commonly placing “time” somewhere in or around those words.

• Just got up and going to be late for work
• Sat on hold for three hours while you phone to some premium rate number for student loans/bank/tax/bills etc.
• Just got home from holiday
• First sit-down after being recently mugged
• Death of a loved one
• A terminal diagnosis
• The imminent destruction of the planet and the subsequent extinction of the entire human race
• Lottery win
• Kettle successfully boils
• Some company comes over for a “catch up”
• Your mates bird really can’t stand smoking and/or the recreational use of tea
• Contemplative moments in the middle of the night when you can’t sleep
• Being interviewed as the prime suspect in a murder enquiry
• Ringing the police up for a crime number when some prick’s hit your car and fucked off so that they don’t lose their no claims bonus
• Getting the fine in the post after having set off one of them sneaky mobile speed cameras
• Being on “Deal or No Deal” (I’ve always believed that show is currently incomplete without the function of the fag and brew being available as part of the decision making process for the contestants)
• Waiting to smuggle goods into or out of the country
• Plotting chaos with your weapons of mass destruction
• Getting made redundant
• Having had some sort of life changing epiphany
• Feeling like you are about to give up on life and everything you have supposedly worked hard for
• Chain smoking while having a long, deep heart to heart with a friend
• Procrastinating before a big task that involves a lot of something you can’t be assed with (e.g. getting up off your arse and going to the shop for something)
• Needing a perfect excuse to needlessly break a long task down into small parts while doing nothing constructive in between
• Getting fired by some corrupt tosser for “internet abuse”
• Looking for a job worth applying for, which you know you will never find
• Stopping to get some inspiration to actually do what you’re meant to do next
• Needing a handy setting in order to break some bad news
• Realising for the 61st time that you have actually got no intention of quitting smoking, even though you’re always banging on about it
• General nicotine cravings
• General thirst
• Letting your breakfast/dinner/tea “settle”
• Reading the paper
• Standing with the cool people in the shelter at work
• Trying to understand or come to terms with the concept of the irrational
• Writing literature or poetry
• Solving complex maths problems
• Creating music or video
• Putting up with your other half and their shit when you’re out at the shops
• Prior to turning up to any kind of “hearing”
• When you’re standing somewhere you go when you don’t want to be found
• Refuelling planes at the airport
• Lurking around outside some trendy Wetherspoon’s when you have had a bit too much to drink.

These are just some examples. A fag and a brew aren’t necessarily a good idea in these situations alone. There are plenty more creative ways that you can have a fag and a brew, where the “there’s always time for a brew” philosophy may be applied. Remember, every time you get the desire to feel stress or grief or frustration with something, replace this behaviour by having a fag and a brew instead. You will be surprised with the benefits that it can offer you and your personal life, along with the help it has to offer when it comes to those mundane offices of daily life, for example putting up with other people and their shite when you really can’t be bothered. Find out for yourself today with a fag and a brew. Holding the United Kingdom together.

So what substantiates a new year? Why do we need it to make important, critical changes to our lives? What is it going to do to facilitate these changes in our attitudes and behaviour? Well the simple answers are that we don’t and it isn’t.

£70 to get home? You must be taking the piss!
When you’re queuing up for your triple time taxi home from <insert venue with prosperous “night life” here>, it begins to set in that the world isn’t such a better place with the tick of a clock and your decisions are none the wiser for it. This illustrates how in the UK there is a system of poor judgement that life changing turn-outs for the best are going to happen for you without any actual doing required on your part. In reality, every other day of the year, nobody actually gives a shit about the stroke of midnight and all these changes are put off until we think about them again at some other time, most conveniently next year. All situations are accepted “for now” and this complacency begins to erode this “fresh, new start” making the cycle complete.

This problem stays with you when your new years bender of excessive food and ridiculous amounts of alcohol are gone, along with the colossal amount of money you wasted on providing them for yourself. Armies of hung-over zombies walk into their workplaces and hang their heads in pain and nausea when they once again assume their positions and begin to come out with the same old shit. It’s very generalist of me to say so but it’s the same shit I hear all the time; “I can’t wait for this weekend,” “I need a new job” (without actually having the conviction to go and look for one), “I can’t be assed” and my favourite, “I can’t come in today I’m not feeling very well.” This occurred to me when I noticed how much easier it is to get a doctors appointment on a Friday afternoon in contrast with that of Monday morning, when there is a significantly better chance of getting time off work on the sick. Conveniently, it fits in with the week long self-certification period employees are entitled to so that the doctors appointment checks another box on the back to work form without any accountability required thus avoiding the dreaded disciplinary action. Arse is successfully covered.

Sick of This Place
Every time I have turned up for work somewhere, it’s the standard workplace hypocrisy. “I’m sick of this place,” “I want a new job.” It’s interesting to note that this comes from the same cunts who also slag off the people on jobseeker’s that it’s easy to get a job at the same time as having an excuse to keep their own woes insubstantiated, namely “there’s no other jobs out there” (whichever suits their prejudice at the time). Every single time it’s always been a great soundbite in order to show contempt for their employers and nothing more. No intention to even try to look for another job is demonstrated and no self-improvement is made. Interestingly enough, at times when I have made the same claim, I get “do something about it then” barked at me by exactly the same people. Dizzy new heights of saying one thing and doing another, only too habitual of the place where I live. Once again I don’t like to generalise, but this case scenario has happened everywhere I’ve worked with the same gobshite people casting the same judgements on others while failing to stick to the same “for the sake of it” convictions. Pathetic.

In contrast, I’ve seen people stick to their guns and make something of themselves. Whether it’s going back into education to escape the playground of the shop floor or to move up in the company with positions of responsibility and skill. Unlike the typical gobshite sound bite hypocrite, every single time I’ve seen this it’s been in a quiet person who would rather get on with it than tell everyone else what their personal plans and opinions are. There wasn’t much bigotry going on either. To consider an employer’s perspective, I can see why this is. An objective person who speaks with their actions commands a much greater respect than a bad tempered loud mouth who spends most of his day banging on about what other people should be doing, proudly advertising what a shining example of a human being he is while doing his very best to make bad examples of others. There’s always one in every workplace, which is a shame really. Let’s hope the tabloid newspapers keep going so these people have an abundant flow of opinions to inflict on other people, for comedy value at least.

I’ll Do it Later
UK complacency (along with its thriving track record of hypocrisy) is rife. Millions of people are inflicting themselves with misery and whining about it because they can’t be bothered to do something different with their lives or be the change that they need to make. This takes up terabytes of data on servers and wastes so much electricity with all of the shit status updates about what’s on TV or how much they hate their lives, while at the same time doing absolutely nothing that makes a difference. We put up with bullshit like massive queues that they don’t seem to have in every other country that I’ve ever visited, insane petrol prices because nobody wants to miss corrie while they’re out protesting, businesses that rip people off and take the absolute piss because of this “it’ll be reight” and “fair dooooos” culture applied to the thought of dealing with this bollocks, allowing a double standard in law to continue while new laws are being made to further micro-manage our behaviour and take more money out of our pockets.

Not to worry, though. There’s always tomorrow to bring in the “new year, fresh new start for me.” That’s the problem here. Tomorrow never comes.

I spend almost every day getting into pointless arguments on subjects about which I don’t really care or feel no particular passion. Sometimes I think it’s just because I like to know what other people have to say when you challenge their bullshit with a few points of your own. There really is no point, though. It takes a certain kind of art to influence someone’s opinion. Such an opinion was formed when they were indifferent on the matter, so now they are permanently stuck on their beliefs with the first words they were given and that was the end of that.

I change my opinions all the time, some have even changed in the last 24 hours about life, about what happens next and about what we’re supposed to do with ourselves while we live. Nobody can teach me the wisdom that comes with age, but I can listen to the advice I’m given. I used to tell myself lies because I’m afraid of the dark; I don’t bother with that anymore.

An Ocean of Lost Souls
Walking through crowds of people is still very much a lonely place for someone to be in. Really, you can be surrounded by your friends and family but still the displacement gets to you if you’re in the right frame of mind. One day everyone just seems to understand you and at other times, they really just don’t get it. I wonder why as I look up at the sky for inspiration, wondering if there is something I have missed. An inspiration that has driven people throughout history looks back at me, and he understands what I’m going through. He used to feel the same as me, but now he’s gone and this place is all that’s left behind.

I spare a thought for those who wondered before me and died without any answers.

A universe expands and contracts inside my mind, where I feel as though creation is a force of my own doing. Creativity and ideas come to me like the nature of the universe itself, galaxies burning out everywhere I look as I drift through space in contemplation. There are no angels up here, only darkness and it’s darker than I’ve ever known darkness to be, something I once dismissed as impossible but it happened anyway. This darkness does things to people who are left in the dark, this induction of fear.

Fear
Years or days or months await me. There is another force going on in my mind, something I’m used to referring to as time. I think mostly about the constructs we make for ourselves with the best intentions of them lasting forever. I remember how they never do and it’s never tiresome to watch as time sweeps away citadels and bastions, washing them out into the sea of dark as the pendulum swings to the other nature of luck. This is no small development, as millions of people can be washed away in one swing and flushed out into the dark as has happened many times before in our history.

Life is a cunt, to put it simply. People spend all their lives pleading and begging, hoping in panic and desperation that there is someone who can hear their quiet calls for help. This desperation gets into the heart of so many good natured people who have never shown malice in their whole lives. I’ve seen the anguish in their eyes as they break down and cry, their words so similar to mine at some point, “I don’t want to die.”

My broken heart says that all the time, but I still have no idea why. Does our body, a product of nature and time, know something we don’t? It’s not worth thinking about if you want to sleep well tonight. That boat sailed for me a long time ago.

Loveless
Love is such a strange thing. It’s like keeping the television on at night. You’re still alone in the dark but the noise and the lights and the sound soothe your conscience and keep you company when there is nothing else to make you feel safe. You can look into the eyes of anyone you love or hate and it’s never completely reassuring but it’s enough to put a smile on your face from time to time. When you turn over to look the other way in bed at night, you’re still looking at the gaping abyss, your imagination still craves that knowledge and that closure, those pleas still play on your mind. You can’t shut them out your whole life.

People find security and hope in a sense of belonging as they pluck from the crowds what solace they can. Some leave league tables of men and women in their wake from those drunken and drug fuelled nights of physical love. They find their path and walk it, following the signs as they go. Next morning though, the signposts have all been changed and it’s back to square one. Wandering off, they are lost again until the next time they find someone.

Some cling to that someone and promise they will love forever. Hope is investment in this love, until tragedy takes it away from them. Loneliness is joined hand in hand by a close relative as they take their rightful places in the mortuary.

Hate
I feel the hate and it’s as strong as love. Much in the opposite way, malice creeps in and the sense of lashing out at the world around me. Hate manifests in so many ways, but all somehow related. It’s a powerful feeling, just as powerful a feeling when this hate is let go and the mind gives way to disinterest. I fade in and out of these feelings all of the time, but never know why.

Watching quietly, images flow through my mind of my experiences as the haves stamp on the have-nots and walk over their broken cadavers to get to the top, only to find that they are on the top of a mountain. There are much less people there but the quality of life is just the same. Resentment overcomes them and their interests become lost in categories of red herrings, hoping with the same desperation that money and power will get them more time to get what they want out of life. Fooled and thwarted by their own dreams, some zombie into and out of work while they follow their goals. A light in their eyes that was once there is now gone, as they may as well be dead already.

Brick by brick, walls are built with hate and greed and jealousy. Malice comes from the darkness as the powerful and rich make as much noise as they can. Blasting in our ears, their voices can be heard by entire nations. These voices are somehow trusted and reassuring until it is too late, eventually people look around while the dictatorship goes on and on and they realise that while all this interaction surrounds them, they are still in the dark. On and on this goes, until it’s over. It is at this point, I can’t see anything further for them, as they move into the unknown that waits beyond.

Religion
Some like to use this word. I like to think of it as hope. Wonderful things come from religious minds and such evil in much the same way. Vehemently defending their beliefs and sometimes imposing them on others, opinions shift and search for the answer as, like before, the desperation of an undefined existence pleas faithfully into the dark. Clinging to thier rituals and morals, people bunch together in hope that their collective minds will reach someone as they cast their bottled messages into the sky. For that safety and closure, some take religion as fact and cling to their vessels as the storm washes against the hull in the dark. Some are swept overboard and find themselves alone, wondering why bad things happen to good people who were so kind to others and so faithful for so long. Another opinion is that their betrayal is one based on a plan that they could never hope to change. Millions die needlessly as their desperation becomes expectation that their shining light will come at the very end and save them. They could be right, I could never hope to know.

In much the same way, another religion breeds from the denial this culture creates. A by-product of hope is hopelessness. Disaster can do this to some people and, from this chaos, atheism is born. Where some refuse to believe, their conclusion is driven to take their comforts in disbelief and the view that we are not here for a reason and the only feeling that follows this darkness is more darkness, where our bodies die and our voices are silenced forever.

A Helping Hand in the Dark
So concerned and distant from these views, my mind comes back to the sky I look to for something, anything. Anything that can stop this, or explain to me what I’ve got to do with the time that I have, or if this time is only the beginning. There are no answers for me, and so the moon reflects on the pain and suffering in my eyes, a silent warning of the nightmares that life has to offer. A lifetime in the dark is just as comforting as a lifetime of sound and lights, only one is more distracting than the other from the search for some kind of truth. I won’t lie to you, it hurts. It hurts more than any pain this fucking shitstorm can throw at you. If you really think about it, you will know exactly what I mean. A tear rolls down as I remember what I’ve lost and that desperation kicks off in my mind again, hoping that one day I will see them all again with stories to tell and joy to share as this struggle is finally over.

Down to earth, a stranger puts his hand on my shoulder and he destroys the biggest illusion that has ever blighted me. He looks me right in the face and takes the myths and the noise away for a moment, showing me the darkness behind the veil of distractions we so desperately cling to for help. A lifetime of pain and suffering in his eyes, a nightmare of broken promises and loss in his heart. A reminder of just how much we need ourselves and a reassurance that, while we’re here at least, we’re not alone. You could only believe it if you went through this, but in the few minutes my future was spelled out for me, I parted ways with some advice. It wasn’t an answer, but that didn’t matter to me anymore. I listened to the words I needed to hear, and it changed everything.

I went in and got a nice friendly welcome from Mr. Bag. He was ready to serve me whatever I needed from the cigarette kiosk and called me forward from the special line that I had to wait behind while the staff from both stores finished their conversation. This is a common occurrence in the ongoing unprofessional shite that is this supermarket and their arrogant, egotistical staff. Some of these people would be at risk of disappearing if they could fit any further up their own arses. I like to imagine that they have one big, collective anus that they can all fit inside in order to have clique chit chats and managerial discussions on how to better condescend to their customers.

Anyway, I was called forward from the queue (that didn’t exist) and asked to buy a pouch of tobacco. Mr. Bag asked me if he could see some I.D. Fair enough, that is the law in this country after all, so I showed it to him. For most normal age-restricted purchases, this is the end of the discussion and the sale continues as intended. Not here, though, because for some reason whenever I go here and try to buy something for which you could expect to be asked for ID, they have to do things a little bit differently every time and that just pisses me off. More frustrating is the fact that there is no other legitimate reason other than to piss me off that they would be doing this. Maintaining my cool at the time, I let him carry on with his bull shit.

Redundant Question of the Year
During the examination of my driving licence, I was asked for my date of birth with sceptical eyes as he glanced up at me from the blatant evidence that the card belonged to me and proves that I’m old enough to buy tobacco. How annoying, I thought. Without giving it much more thought, I told him so I could get the purchase over with and get out of there. Whether it was just to get on my tits some more or simply to make overcome the condition that he was a moron, he had completely forgotten what I had asked to buy in the first place so I had to tell him again.

This kind of incompetence is consistent with everyone I have encountered who has been a complete prick about my ID, even though I was able and willing to provide one along with the patience and understanding that it was their job to ask. It may not surprise you also to learn that every single time this has happened, it has been from the same supermarket. They get so hung up on impressing the group of clearly hard-working mates stood behind the counter (who were working tirelessly at the chat they were having that I had to wait for them to conclude) that they can’t even remember what I had asked for (or possibly even what their occupation actually is) in the first place. How very annoying for someone who, from my own experience in working for them, was so big on customer service during the training process.

Moron II: Return of the Shit Question
After telling him the date of birth on my driving licence (possibly because he couldn’t read, I’m not sure), I had reminded him what it was that we were both there for in the first place and one would expect that to be the end of the problem. It was hard enough to get to this point I suppose, what more could be wrong with my ID? Plenty, it turns out.

Suddenly, he got a curious look on his face with a nice little smirk and he dropped his intention to go and get my tobacco so that he could ask to see my ID again. I had already put it away at this point and was getting ready to give him my money so that I could get out of there. You might be able to imagine here how fucking ridiculous this moron was being. I gave him the ID, I read out my driving licence number to him, just so he could be sure. I took a glance at his name badge and felt like reminding him what it was, so he could possibly find his way back home after work tonight. How these people survive past adolescence is completely beyond me. What a shit for brains.

Customer Service – Circa 2011
Wary of putting my ID away again, in case he had some sort of relapse and started to repeat the entire conversation from the beginning (I really wouldn’t put it past this dickhead at this point), I had to iterate for a third time what I was trying to buy. Twice was enough, but this guy had to really take the piss before he served me. Thanks for that, moron. At the expense of my patience, this guy had successfully looked like a complete cock in front of his workmates. Well done!

This is the latest episode in a string of episodes I’ve had to put up with attending this supermarket, which I have been banned from twice since ending my employment there. It was a fun employment, with manager meetings reminiscent of a high school bollocking and funny-cunt staff searches just to piss me off at times like when I’ve clocked out and doing a shop with my parents before I go home. This is all not considering that I had the unfortunate experience of working with miserable old fat women with clear sexual dysfunction anxiety (or so you would suspect, looking at their sour, disgusting and saggy, scowling faces), school playground grass opportunists who are ever so nice to your face but would do anything to stick their head up the arse of a manager, security guards who think they are from the FBI and spend more time using their CCTV to look at women than they do actually trying to stop theft and cut losses and finally the managers, whose idea of teamwork is doing as you’re told and shouting at people for the poxiest of reasons.

A person with an average amount of patience can only put up with so much, like going to the customer service desk and standing there for fifteen minutes while three people stand around having a conversation; all the while being completely ignored.

These are just a few examples. For the benefit of your time and my blood pressure, I won’t go on. I’m not suggesting that this covers all of the staff at this dump, some of whom were very nice with me and a pleasure to work with. However, it’s little wonder to people who know me why I religiously avoid going to this shit hole with their contemptuous attitude and pretentious, braindead staff and non-existent customer services. Rant over.

Today I went to the cinema to see Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows. This is a film that I had until today been looking forward to for weeks and anyone who actually appreciates a film would know that a spoiler is just a big pain in the arse when in these circumstances. A spoiler is going to ruin a film for anyone; what can also be seen as a spoiler is the pain in the arse one needs to endure in order to watch it.

At The Pictures
Picking the best time to see a film at the pictures is important for me. It is the foremost consideration when deciding to go and see something at the pictures (and also why I never went to see The Inbetweeners Movie there), so that I can get the best viewing conditions available (e.g. good seats, nice relaxing atmosphere) and as few pricks in the accompanying audience as possible.

Nothing spoils a film quite like pricks, so timing is crucial. A typical response when faced with this rubbish is to go and complain to whoever and get the rotter involved turfed out. That means missing a substantial part of the film pissing about at the desk to the point where you have seen enough of the film to ruin the element of surprise but missed enough of it to ruin the engagement of a good storyline if you’re lucky enough to get one at the pictures.

Either other people are dropping away from the cinema crowd as they realise this, or my presence just sets off a whole row constantly moving throughout the whole film, having conversations and pissing about with their phones. So while I’m sat there, instead of the feature it costs the best part of £30 to watch if you want any kind of snacks or refreshments, I get to listen to some dick wad talk about what he’s going to be doing later while he shakes his fucking leg for the entire time I’m sat down. Occasionally his phone would light up while he ignores the film.

One can sit there and bear it, or get out of their seat and get something done. Either way, the film is ruined.

It Could Only Happen To Me
I’m sat down ready to sit through the half an hour of lectures on piracy and adverts (although this dogshit is advertised as part of the film), and I go to eat one of my hot dogs. Because the adverts take forever, I always get two of them so I don’t feel lacking when the film has only just started, like I used to before I wised up to this in the good old days.

Anyway, I digress, I reach for the hot dog and open my mouth to find that the sausage has rolled off the bun, slapped onto my (conveniently) white pants and then onto the floor. I could only imagine the massive yellow stain running down my leg for the full length of the film along with the subsequent drive home and you could only imagine my absolutely fucking furious mood that situation had left me in. There are few things in life that I can tolerate; smearing mustard all over my clean pants is certainly not one of them. Not to mention that these deviously rolling hot dogs cost nearly a fiver. I won’t share my thoughts for you word for word but rest assured I was very, very annoyed.

Cinemas often accommodate people as best they can. This includes a massive screen, a massive audience capacity, loud sounds and rumbling bass for all of those lovely fast-paced action sequences that get the androgen flowing. One big explosive catastrophe of manliness. Unfortunately this accommodation has some (unintended, I’m sure) adverse effects on the customer. This includes not being able to see what the fuck you’re doing and having to walk quite far for simple utilities like something to wipe up all the shite that’s smeared all over your pants. Furthermore, nobody is going to pause the film while you spend five minutes or so sorting yourself out. It became clear to me that for the next two and a half hours, any time spent on yourself is money wasted in this place, and lots of money at that.

The Easiest £30 the Film Industry Ever Made
If you think about how much money this is, you can start to imagine all of the nice things that you can buy with it; things that you could perhaps have and use for the rest of your life, or at least for years to come. This money will even go so far as to get you a copy of the film after it has finished showing in the cinema so that you can enjoy it when and however you want. Possibilities are endless. Considering this expense in order to sit in a squashed seat in a room full of noisy distracting morons, I think about the big business and their constant claims that piracy is somehow ruining entertainment for everyone. It is, after all, impossible to surmise that all films being shitty and animated versions of what a film used to be simply because some asshole wants to make budget cuts to see the profits hit higher. All the while this experience left me thinking about the piracy advert that I saw beforehand.

“Pirates against piracy” was the campaign header in an advert before my film began. It was depicting some pirate in a cage complaining about how he wound up without a pot to piss in and locked in a cage because he peddled films on the internet. These films were given the following description by this pirate; “the screen was tiny, the sound was rubbish and it’s completely illegal”. Clearly this pirate was full of zeal for his cause, even though it sounded like he didn’t believe in himself.

These comments left me thinking about how accurate these claims were and, at the end of my viewing experience, how piracy compared to going to the cinema to watch everything. It wasn’t too hard to figure out where my preference came in, was it?

Poor Quality, Pointless Endeavour, Breach of the Law
It’s remarkable how many people actually commit piracy. Given the propaganda that you’re made to sit through at the start of every cinema film, I was initially led to believe that piracy was such poor quality in comparison with the cinema experience, that it would be pointless to even take the massive risk when it comes to downloading films from the internet for free. There must be something that people like The Pirate Bay and others who get millions of hits all the time know that the film industries don’t.

While not a pirate myself, I’ve been privy to many a pirated screening. In every instance, there has been immaculate quality such that one would find in a professional post-cinema release. This was all accompanied by great sound and the comfortable home setting to boot. Everything was perfect.

This left me wondering about the situation and why piracy was such a bad idea.

Have At Ye …
I’m always sceptical about the estimates when it comes to someone with an agenda. An example I will use is this link here; http://www.reuters.com/article/2011/05/18/us-usa-china-piracy-idUSTRE74H6CO20110518

In this article, a mouthy title is given. “Chinese piracy and counterfeiting of U.S. software and a wide range of other intellectual property cost American businesses an estimated $48 billion in 2009, the U.S. International Trade Commission said in a report released on Wednesday.” Try saying that with a mouthful of bakewell.

I read through this article and the titles of other articles I google searched which I really couldn’t be bothered to read to find a list of similar claims. Either these businesses are absolutely massive, or $48 billion is worth less when it’s an intellectual property than a real one, because if this much money went missing in the day to day running of business then someone would get fired. I start to think about these claims and how they came to be made.

$48 billion is described as an estimated cost of intellectual property theft. Fine. This estimate from the outset is presumptuous, with three conditions applied to it while calculating money;

1. That if piracy was impossible (I don’t ever think that this will be the case), everyone who wanted access to such intellectual property would have paid for it legitimately
2. That everyone who acquired such intellectual property through piracy didn’t try before they bought and ended up paying for or discarding the pirated wares anyway
3. That intellectual property is physical property which cannot be re-used or continue to be distributed when “stolen”

To be fair to this argument, I’ve neglected to criticise the accuracy of how pirate distribution is tracked, given the nature of how Bit Torrent works.

These things considered, it would be unfair to assume any of the above were true but realistically, an estimate could not be acquired without them. It is only logical to surmise these rationalisations and I haven’t found any other considerations involved to date.

With this estimate situation in mind, some food for thought can be provided here. Namely that copyright infringement in this country carries with it an unlimited fine upon which the full extent of potential loss of revenue for a company can be reclaimed. Imagine being sued for millions because you downloaded one film and (accidentally) left it seeding all night.

Protect the Artist
During my experience with the anti-piracy lobby, I’ve seen time after time in comment posts and diatribe that out of all this, the artist is really the one who suffers. Unfortunately for the would-be artist I can honestly say this is the biggest bag of shit I’ve ever heard in my life. During my experience with the piracy lobby, it quickly becomes obvious that an artist’s intellectual property doesn’t even reach the peer to peer networks until they have made a name for themselves, obtaining the fame and fortune that comes with it.

With intellectual property so readily available to purchase online, it’s not irrational to think that several million people will opt for the legal option and pay their way. With the internet massively spoon fed to these people in droves, most of them would like to listen to music for free but they can’t be bothered to spend the whopping two minutes it takes to establish one’s Bit Torrent setup, so they pay for their music anyway via some nice user-friendly front end that almost any idiot can love and take advantage of.

Given this advantage of legally obtaining intellectual property for personal use, it would be ridiculous to even assume that the vast amounts of money made this way would be affected by the online pirate, who is most likely going to find a way to get something for nothing regardless of the attempts made to stop it. Desperation is an element in such attempts, resulting in things like root kits being hidden in simple audio CDs and the self defeating digital rights management that makes some music you bought yourself completely pointless to have because you suddenly realise you can’t do anything with it.

Meanwhile you get people like Metallica lashing out at these so-called online thieves, making claims like “We don’t want you as fans,” when attacking the rise of the peer to peer network and online piracy at the turn of the century. I’m sure they didn’t appreciate it either when the fans who had downloaded their music also paid for merchandise, attended gigs and plastered their bedrooms with posters to show their allegiance. This, like the cinema scenario, is not to mention the overpriced beverages they had to purchase throughout, because venue staff were stood confiscating personally brought refreshments and snacks at the door. All of which made someone somewhere a very healthy profit from the free publicity that online piracy had made them. This is just one example in a burgeoning haystack.

To conclude on this issue, it’s clear that an artist is either an artist or a hypocrite who is exploiting their fans to make money. Something tells me that the former would care more about their art than their profits; why would someone get very stressed and shitty about online piracy when they are still fully willing and able to do what they love and are passionate about? After all, even though “intellectual property theft” is applicable here, it’s not like another band is online stealing Metallica songs and claiming these albums are by them. Metallica and thousands of other owners of intellectual property (or the record labels who fucked them over on the royalties in the contract) are having their music distributed and delivered, in a very easily obtained great quality, to a potential fan base that would have never shown a vested financial interest in their brand name or intellectual property before.

I wouldn’t go so far as to say that all artists are hypocrites for coming out with attacks like the example given above. Some might even be simply as prone to misinformation as the rest of us.

Are your profits going up? Ironically, piracy might have done you a favour. It certainly does have benefits for everyone, a view usually dismissed by the person who wants to make the most money. No wonder online intellectual property theft is something which has hardly any opposition whatsoever, apart from vested interests.

Christmases since then have been coming alarmingly fast, so I wonder sometimes what causes this phenomenon whether it’s a perception of time depending on age or it’s just the fact that when people get older they fail to appreciate christmas in the first place. I consider that I might be at fault in these two categories, seeing as though last christmas it feels like a few months ago.

A White Christmas
Snow this year has been its usual self for the UK, with the exception of people who live in extremeties like Scotland et al where I get the impression that it just snows constantly all year round. On a scale of 0-10 with 0 being the shittest, the weather here sits firmly at 0 and I’ll explain why.

When the snow never comes, it attracts moaning from people who don’t work. When the snow comes, it attracts moaning from people who work and subsequently it causes such people to moan at the people who do work. On Facebook I’ve seen a couple of status updates about this already; very bitter indeed. We now have a situation where the snow just stops and starts again providing its customary slushy shite all over the floor that is neither use nor ornament. That just annoys everyone, who in turn annoy me so it’s another shite year for weather it is safe to say.

I’ve never understood the anticipation of a white christmas. It seems to me as though there is widespread hope that winter actually does what it’s meant to do. In the UK there are lots of people who hope for the seasons being normal like they are in every other country north of the equator. Everywhere else people just get what they want and aren’t left with annoying little episodes like getting their washing piss wet through in the middle of summer. If you’re looking to move here, expect to complain about the weather. It’s one of the fundamentals of small talk and there are genuinely things to complain about.

Everywhere else it seems has awesome thunderstorms, power cuts, extreme weather appropriate to the season. We get rain, occasional dimming of lights and a surprise to wake up to every day. After so many years the surprise becomes unsurprising and with it follows the gloom cloud of moaning throughout.

Battenberg
I’m smoking a roll up, and yes, it tastes like battenberg. I have absolutely no idea why this is but sometimes it just happens.

Agony in the UK
I’m pleased to see that there doesn’t seem to be any tabloid-induced hysteria this year concerning the massively influential political group they, and how there are plans in motion by them to ban christmas for everyone. This has always been some exaggeration that is made every time a local council wonders how much their street lighting and decorations for christmas are going to cost. Like other years, I don’t see the chances of some officials bursting into your front foor to confiscate illegal christmas presents. Perhaps there will be some new initiative by they to incorporate this policy next year.

Sadly I’m probably wrong about this assumption but while conducting my research into the situation this year (which solely involved 6 hours of playing tetris), my reading was lacking any reference to they and their reliably unsuccessful attempts to ruin certain times of the year.

New Religion
Every christmas I always see the same things; people running their christmas shopping lists, packed car parks everywhere that has anything for sale, panic buying, gangs of piss ups, drama and my least favourite of all, implied obligation.

Under the impression that christmas was a celebration of the birth of some guy a couple of thousand years ago (or so we are led to believe), I would have thought that these masses would be crowding up in church to sing hymns and conduct their worship during advent. I haven’t seen Jesus being mentioned once by anyone at any point this month. I think the only reference was last night from a ‘Jesus Rocks’ t-shirt sported by my cousin. It wasn’t christmassy in the slightest but it shows the side of christmas on which appreciation in this country truly lies.

In the 21st century, the christmas embrace is that of giving to receive, ridiculous overspending, gluttony and the warm gratification of something for nothing.  This is well reflected by the masses of brand name appreciation “coke lorry” posts and megabytes of text banging on about shopping lists. Given this attitude and our weather, I’m surprised anyone still bothers with the decorations.

Festive Solace
In a more positive light, while nothing to do with the reason we’re meant to have christmas in the first place, people still appreciate this time of year if they can to settle down with their families and loved ones to see the new year in. This kind of appreciation I find it easy to accept, as it’s a sentiment that I’ll be sharing myself this year. While a world away from the shopping list hypocrisy, this is one of the few things that make me feel happy in anticipation of this time of year and put a smile on my face.

Solace isn’t easy to come by whether you will be enjoying christmas with a family, loved ones et al or not. There are still the same wolves at the door that must be kept at bay just like the rest of the year round. These wolves are the bills and what the bills represent, for example, give us your money or we’ll come and get it. Much like the trade of compassion for gifts and token gestures typically associated with this time of year, there is a sacrifice of compassion for profits.

Anyone who has been told that they have a payment due on christmas day will identify with this menace. Companies shrug and say that payment is due and show absolutely no sympathy or emotion when given the fact that this is a really shit time of year to have to pay bills. It’s people like this who lay employees off with only weeks to go until christmas and, for most, plenty of financial difficulties as everyone ends up somehow hard-up and skint at this time of year buying as much as they can for everyone else. If companies were to show some charity, compassion and understanding for those with lots of christmas outgoings then they will probably get more out of their customers than their cash. Positive feedback, for instance.

Let’s look at big business for a moment and their actions when it comes to christmas;

• Premiums have to be paid anyway, tough shit
• Items that could be remotely considered ‘gifts’ become ridiculously overpriced
• Attitude is given to others that if you’re too skint to buy anything you’re instantly labelled an asshole
• People get laid off because having employees around christmas time interferes with monthly targets, which are the same as they are every other month of the year

It says a lot when money vans coming from supermarkets have police escorts, people get laid off from work, premiums are still due however extortionate, a nation looks forward to getting pissed (like the 51 other weeks of the year) and queues of people head for the furniture shops to get the most of a sale at 9am on boxing day. I’m not even going to get started on the fact that every other advert on TV is for a fragrance.

My thoughts and feelings are with all those who are going to have a shit time this year, for whatever reason, and I hope that they can find a moment’s peace on the 25th.

Christmas
I have gone all month so far without really mentioning or paying much attention to christmas. My thoughts and feelings about this time of year are that there should be one time when you just stop doing what you normally do every day and spend time with the people that you love.  It’s also home to my favourite meal of the year in which we sit down (at the table) and have the ultimate roast dinner.  It completely justifies waiting for an entire year to enjoy one meal.  This is one of my favourite times of the year before it gives way to my least favourite; good old “new years”.

I keep my expectations low and somehow this time of year manages to win me over.  That’s my strategy and I’m sticking to it.

New Website
After taking the bin out, I decided that I’m far too opinionated to just share my thoughts and feelings with god and youtube comment threads. I need someone else to annoy. Here we are. There are still plenty of things which I’m planning to add to this site, along with other posts, so make sure you come back and keep an eye on it.

Anticipating 2012
Like many Decembers that have happened to me, I’m spending this one looking forward to next year so that there is a refreshing new chance to make mistakes and piss about for the rest of the year (or longer in serious cases) regretting them.  Annual mistakes are like accidentally asking an enthusiast about something trivial; I can live with them, but the lectures and the consequences just make it so much more difficult than it actually is.  Often, I find people are too self-righteous or spiteful to just let things go and get on with their shit.  There is always some sort of problem that manages to mess with mine.