A Cheery wave to Potential Future Employers

Hello there.
There are many reasons you may be reading this. Perhaps you are a political 'slash fiction' obsessive and have Googled the phrase 'George Osborne Piss Bukkake'... terms which have brought people to this blog in the past, whereupon I cannot even begin to imagine the 'wilting' disappointment they experienced.

You may be a friend of mine, scanning my gibberings for 'cries for help' or other evidence of that cataclysmic breakdown that has been in the post for two decades. Don't worry, I am a 'Brinksman'... All the pleasure for me is derived from sailing close to the edge, giving every impression that I will fall at any moment, but, in reality I am never less than completely in control... The bouts of hysterical laughter/weeping/animal impressions are just theatrical tools I employ.

Maybe I tricked you into coming here, luring you from your preferred social network by attaching the link to a gag, or hashtag, that was just too damn enticing to pass up... In which case, sorry... the entries prior to this are much more entertaining... oh and can you click on the 'music links' dotted around this page... you don't even have to listen... you can mute them... I'll never ever know that*, but I will see the 'play' statistic one day and it will make me smile... think of it like charity... but free... and for someone who doesn't particularly deserve, or need it.
(*Unless of course you leave me a comment telling me... but at least I'd get a comment then... I keep hearing about a plague of 'Trolls'... they must be afeared of me)

You may even be a member of #TeamBozier...

Most likely you've got here through the 'Badly Drawn Roy' post... which still gets plenty of visitors every day. He seems to be doing ok, although I have had no further direct contact with him. I'm happy to have helped, although the people who contacted me about it seemed to massively over-estimate my involvement...

There is however a possibility that you are a recruiter, or an employer, who has Googled my name to see what that sewer of human behaviour, the internet, will vomit onto their desks when my name is uttered...

... and Luckily you've ended up here first, and not my 'George Osborne Many-Wee-Wonder-site'... (Which honestly doesn't exist... although it should... and if I had the erotic fiction skills I would make one... I mean, look how well 'Fifty Shades of Lame' is doing... now... 'Mild Squirm' fiction for girls... that's where the money is)

So hello to you... and whatever job you're searching me for, I can assure you I'll be very good at it... and of course much more hard-working than is apparent on  this Blog.

I am however puzzled as to what you hope this little search will achieve? Really... I'm not complaining... far be it from me to deride your procedures Potential Future Boss... that would be stupid... but, has nobody ever told you: Nobody is completely themselves on the internet... because that is what the internet is for.

Some of my friends who read this blog have asked me about this: Am I worried about what I write on here, bearing in mind that you... yes 'you' are actually now reading it... (Oooh... how 'Meta'... if you are a recruiter reading this blog, drop me a clever comment... and then give me that job... whatever it is)
...and the answer to that is: 'of course not'... it's a mildly snarky opinion, music, social media and politics blog, it could never have any bearing whatsoever on my ability to do any job... it's fluff...
So those same friends ask: Well... what about your portrayal of yourself as an acerbic misanthrope who lives entirely in the realms of social media and the internet...

Well... in that case I have to entrust in the intelligence of the reader (You... Yes, your intelligence... high pressure I know) I imagine if you are able to use a search engine, you will be able to understand the difference between the real world and the 'let's pretend' world.

I mean, I bet at least half of you immediately started shaking your head when you saw that I used that awful, tawdry 'A friend asked me' device a few moments ago in a vain attempt at keeping this meander-wagon steered in the right direction... Of course I've never been asked these questions... anyone who asked them would be insane, and incapable of any human interaction... let alone 'Friendship'. As soon as those questions left their non existent lips, I'd punch them in their non-existent face... except of course I wouldn't because 'they' don't exist... and the 'me' that types this is an internet persona...

All clear?

So the queation remains: What can you really learn about someone from the internet?
The Answer: Well... nothing really... nothing of any use in the actual material, fleshbag world... Why? because the internet allows, nay encourages all of us to lie and exaggerate...

Someone I know says on Facebook (complete with imagex flitered to resemble a Polaroid shot): 'OMG Had The Awesomest Breakfast Ever!'
They didn't... it was fry up... just an unremarkable fry up without black pudding... a fact which no 'trendy' filter can disguise

Someone else says 'Big night last night... proper dead now'
Well they aren't are they? There's no way to Tweet from beyond the grave... (or is there? see previous post... whether this idea interests you or not, it's simply funnier than this one)

The internet is no better a source of important recruitment information than a horoscope... or the graffiti on a toilet door... or the ravings of the woman behind the bottle bins at Tesco who insists I am Roy Orbison...

On the other hand, this you can trust implicitly oh wise, witty and attractive recruiter person...
I'll be bloody great at that job...
Whatever it is...
...oh and I like Black pudding on a fry up...
Don't judge me...

Internet startup: Inanity beyond death... How to continue to babble from beyond your, richly deserved, grave...

For those few people who have read this blog more than once (stalkers, sexual deviants lured in by odd search terms, blog favourite #TeamBozier and the like) I may come across as a 'Tron-Like' figure... a man made of  light and wires, who zips around and unreal social media universe on his lightcycle... or special effect 'line'... without a care in your dull, matter-based, human world...

But of course I do have a 'care' in that vile human world, with its 'smells', unusual impulses and personal stickiness and no matter how much I try to ignore it, it stubbornly refuses to stop existing... a great big lumpy, fleshy 'care' that needs to be tended and fuelled and generally maintained whilst reacting in all sorts of disturbing and unpleasant ways to various stimulation under the smug excuse of 'emotional response'

Yes I am talking about the skinsack that holds all the important bits together, my body... the envelope that contains the 'essential me' on it's tedious journey from birth to death, via a series of trips to chain coffee outlets and bouts of existential despair. There is no upgrade scheme for this piece of hardware incidentally... and the only people seriously looking into separating the useful parts from the meat bag are 'Astral Scientists' who seem to think the solution involves smoking weed and engaging in marathon staring sessions at patterns from old, failed cultures they pretend to understand... as opposed to my preferred solution which involves highly invasive and destructive surgery and a 70 foot tall mechanical body..

Yes, ALL of you internet people are, like me, attached to a load of biological processes in shoes... which will, like all inferior biological technology, clap out on you one day... it will die..completely.. and there is no way off stopping it, and there's no reboot... it will be gone, but the real you... the internet you, will just continue to exist, trapped in limbo without those fleshy sausages to press the buttons that allow it to be...

But it doesn't have to be this way...

And that's where my new start up business comes in... for a small cash cost and an incredibly dangerous operation we will attach sensors to all of your major organs. When these notoriously temperamental bio-components finally, and inevitably wear out, a signal will be sent to our HQ and one of two of our exclusive packages will be activated.

1) Basic 'Last words' package.
On our cheapest package, the exact moment you die, one of our operatives will seize control of all your social media profiles in order to process that final update... this can be a factual appraisal: Cause of Death*, time etc... a profound comment, either self composed or created with one of our crack team of greetings card inlay writers...

Of course, death doesn't have to be a downer. you could go for something 'lighter' like: "Dead now, LOL" or perhaps "All your grave are belong to me"

If you happen to have complicated legacy arrangements that involve pirates, traps or haunted houses you could use this service to give your grieving relatives that first, fun 'starter clue'... the limits are only your imagination... and of course the psychological frailty of your next of kin...

*Note, the 'factual appraisal' option is not recommended for all and we cannot be held responsible for any breakdowns and/or copycat suicide/murders resulting from your nearest and dearest reading that you have just ’passed on’ due to severe rectal trauma, dressed as a girl guide in the shopping precinct of Ipswich town centre...

2) Our premier service works in exactly the same way as the budget one, except... it won't stop! Instead, our highly advanced bank of computers will analyse your posting style based on criteria such as: Overall inanity, fondness for pictures of cats, misunderstanding of what the word 'troll' means in an internet context, weird belief in conspiracies... etc etc...

Then the magic happens...

After a curt announcement regarding the (not especially) 'sad' demise of your sagging protein vessel, your social media  accounts will continue 'as normal', but with our machines matching your posting frequency and style, but obviously surpassing your pitifully inadequate 'human' wit, wisdom, profundity and spelling... for ever... and ever... and... well you get the point...

Sounds good eh?

Now to ask Louise Mensch and Go #TeamBozier if they want in...
We will make this happen... for you...

Anti-Viral: Dumb-ass Nostalgia Posts... or 'Hit like if you also used to Put your face in a bucket of wasps, broken glass and Sulphuric Acid'

Hello...
Welcome to the first in an irregular series in which I, your splenetic and bilesome narrator, attempt to hook, land and gut the most nauseating memes that float past my beady eye...

First up... Those 'wasn't the time of MY childhood great' messages that Facebook vomits periodically into my timeline once or twice a week...

They are usually put there by people who haven't bothered reading them to the end... I don't blame them... Aside from a sentimentality that is so cloying that even a scouse Peter Kay fan might regard them as a 'bit too Mawkish', they then throw in a weird 'Daily Mail' style 'Cor Blimey that safety thing is a bit Silly isn't it?' attitude to further lose any touch with reality..

If you're on a social network, you will have seen a variation of this meme. They usually turn up with half a million 'likes' and a closing line that says something like:
'Share if you drank from the garden Hose and survived'
'Hit like if you went hungry for refusing your Mom's food'
'Hit like and share if you think that progress and increased wellbeing is shit and you would actually rather time go backwards to a fantasy, 'Lord of the Rings' when you could juggle chainsaws on a bike without a helmet down an unlit road with no phone or medicine without the PC brigade jumping on your back'*
(*well... that's the Subtext anyway)

That in mind I wrote this and sent it into the world...

"My Curfew was when it got dark, even though I had no idea what the word 'Curfew' meant and the fact that 'When it gets Dark' changes year round, meaning it was often grossly unfair and arbitrary. 

When it was time to come in I had to go immediately and if it was late I would worry my Mum, because there was no easily obtainable, portable, communication device that could have allayed her fears... and when we were chased by what used to be called a 'stranger' (statistically, a more common occurrence then than today) there was no way to get help other than screaming for it through a haze of tears and snot.

Infant mortality, abductions and violent crime were higher, but there was no liquid soap.. so that was better... right?

Oh and although you could get your mouth washed out with soap for being 'cheeky', you probably wouldn't for being Racist, Sexist or Homophobic, because that was the staple of 'Entertainment' shows and was thus Okey-Dokey-Fine. 

Yes, I rode a bike without a helmet, and the two times I crashed it it was dumb, blind luck that saved me from death and not well-made safety equipment.

Getting Dirty was ok, but due to the less advanced washing machines/detergents of the time, getting your clothes dirty was not... oh and incidents of filicide through 'Zealous Discipline' were also far far more common...

Click Like if You too have a deluded and vaguely sinister attachment to a period in history, insisting it is somehow 'better' just because it was when you were young!"

I'm guessing my half a million likes and shares are stuck in an internet pipe somewhere. I can wait...

Do I have a point or am I just being a sarky clever clogs?

Well...a little from column A, little from Column B...

I am a sarky clever clogs, but my point is... Things are getting better, both in this country and across the globe. Crime is going down, diseases have better survival rates, base level of poverty is nowhere near the level of even twenty years ago... that isn't to say there isn't more to be done, just that you can only do that by looking forward... the good things in the past are already being built on, that is what progress is....

Part of that progress is an increased awareness of the need for Safety controls for workers... Now, many will confuse this with spurious liitigation by ambulance chasing lawyers... but, like the much maligned 'Political Correctness' it is a neccesary framework to establish, even if (like any framework ever) it is sometimes used by unscrupulous dipshits for their own ends, unaware that they are ruining everything for everyone.

To summarise there was never an EU law stating you have to wear goggles to play conkers, just as nobody ever banned Christmas... but there were three maintanance men slowly roasted to death in a belt fed bread oven (over the course of an hour long  cycle) after the correct procedures were not followed in order 'to save Time'...

I remember my childhood... it was bloody ace...
And the past in general... fantastic...
But, If you don't think you are living in the best of all possible times, (excepting that which comes after), you are either: not looking at the evidence or allowing a nostalgia for your own youth to utterly cloud your judgement...