spiffingwheeze

Standing on the station. Never used to be such a plague of school kids catching the train to school when I started doing this 29 years ago. But here is the thing. Do the thin kids get teased at school these days? A fair percentage of the future of the country are cluttering up the place whilst sporting the frame of a mid 50s heart attack candidate.
If Grange Hill was remade, Ro-land would probably have an uneventful story, other than maybe being a henchman for a Jabba the Hutt-esque Gripper Stebson. Possibly something to do with them all getting dropped off in Mummy’s Mercedes, tumbling out eating sweets.

I mean, don’t these religion based schools get the little fuckers running around doing cross country pursued by an ex forces sadist PE teacher?

They’re everywhere in the news.

I wonder if some of them beating their victims to it are doing it right though.

All the best and worst excuses are being used up fast.

Here. Courtesy Blackadder. In case any politician, mogul, actor, etc. needs a different opener for their ‘regret’ interview with the media:

It might be easier if the news could simply  publish a short list of seemingly the few remaining in film, music, fashion, politics etc who are not guilty of, accused of, or suspected of sexual assault, misbehaviour or weirdness. Then if everybody else  involved could get on with legal proceedings and whatnot that’d be great.

That done,  it should leave plenty of time and space on the news for biased truthspeak and propaganda on what Kim Jong, Donald (pussy grabbing aside), May etc. are up to. More Brexit doomsaying too maybe. However, given Catalonia’s attempt to upstage that , maybe less so. At least until Jimmy Kranky, I mean Nicola Sturgeon pulls an even quicker independence jolly, dressed as Mel Gibson dressed as William Wallace to upstage them.
OK, how about filling the news with “and finally” articles about amusing pets, or vegetables shaped like bollocks. Mind you, maybe not eh. Could be misconstrued…

I am the sum of my hopes and fears

I am the product of joy and tears

I am the now of the future I wondered

I am the adult the child me pondered

I am a ghost daily haunting a shell

I am a clarion ring of a bell

I am the empty space found in matter

I am the cliffs the roaring waves batter

I am the echo that fades in a hall

I am the blackbird’s morning call

I am the song

I am the singer

I am the difficult thoughts that linger

I am the spirit of loved ones passed

I am the small

I am the vast

I am the start of a collapsing star

I am the near

I am the far

I am the darkness pierced by a light

I am the things that go bump in the night

I am alone and lost out at sea

I am the nothingness

I am me

I appreciate Mr. KJU’s use of olde English in his latest retort. It shows effort. If I might respectfully suggest, the word dotard, whilst a welcome surprise, could have been replaced with the more contemporary word “Fucktard”. Next, may I suggest working on that hairdo a little, and perhaps some snappy suits. You may soon out-statesman your adversary. The final kick to the balls would be maybe running an actually successful business or 2 as a sideline. #WW3broughttoyoubySouthparkMadeReal

I saw this on the BBC and thought you should see it:

Kim says ‘deranged’ Trump shows need for nuclear programme – http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-41356836

When I was very young, I remember watching Jacques Cousteau documentaries goggle eyed, and reading books about scuba adventures and explorers of all kinds and other such keys to a world of waiting opportunity. A world to be explored. Then there was the astounding original Life On Earth series with David Attenborough.

Seems inbetween then and now, and realistically before then, but not obvious to a young lad at the time, pretty much everything has been explored, conquered, westernized, littered, ruined and made eñdangered.

So it’s no surprise to hear the grim news about the head teacher taking time out to paddle down the Amazon ending up murdered for her ipad and Go pro camera and whathaveyou…

Probably by drug running teenage pirates wearing slogan t shirts and branded trainers.

A planet of 7 billion cunts.

I think Jacques got the best of it, and went on to explore somewhere nicer.

Sat feeling shattered after getting out of a hot shower with all the great smelling stuff.

The shower door is covered in water droplets. Some seem happy where they are.

Some race to the finish line alone.

Some run by, joining others, all moving together as a new unit.

It may seem like a race. But in just a short while, whether they raced by, or stayed put clinging on, they’ll be gone.

With nothing but a small imprint to say they were ever there.

Must get some more Viakal.