Day 6. Boozy Boozy Booze face... (Or why I decided not to give up the 'Dumb Sauce' during my 'Good Month')

Have  you ever tried to take up 'boozing' as a grown up?

I did it once as a kid of course, at 14 like most Good British kids.. I did the full house, the cider in bus shelters, finding the bar that would accept a National insurance card as valid ID, getting a girl to go into the shop, despite the fact that she didn't look any older than us.

I was sick in places, fell asleep in places, woke up in different places. I skinny dipped in a pond full of broken glass, I tried to 'get off' with the wrong people and I succeeded in getting off with the even wronger ones.

Then I stopped. Dead. I decided I didn't really like it at all, it didn't show me in my best light. So I stopped in my third week at University. Yes I actually did that. I became a tea-totaller a University. That's not to say I didn't find many interesting ways to lose my mind (See 'Experimental Blog) I just didn't do it with alcohol.

After a few years I did begin to have the occasional drink, but that is not Boozing.. as any drinker will tell you. There's a world of difference. That world is the one where everyone is suddenly your friend, they all find you sexually appealing and they believe your singing voice to be so splendid, that you owe it to them to wail loudly throughout the three mile walk home.

Now, I've recently found myself back in London after a few years absence. Good years where I was being a 'normal' person, but now I'm back... and I don't know many people here. And how is it that grown ups socialise these days? When I was younger we'd go to dance parties and gigs. I still do that, but the people there seem a lot younger than me now. So what can I do to bond myself with organisms that have been slupping around this earth fro a similar span of years to me? I can damn well booze.

So I've been practicing that. Boozing. Not falling down, wee down the trouser-leg, wanking in a doorway Boozing, just normal, chatting to strangers, dancing like a joker, still trying to 'get off' with the wrong people Boozing...

So I've exempted that 'Vice' from my good month. In fact I feel that exercising my alcohol muscle is a positive. Which is why I'm going to be hitting some pubs tomorrow.
See you there.
Let me know your poison and I'll totally 'Get them in'...

Day 5. Mugged by a turnstile. (Or, How much would YOU pay for a fleeting glimpse of disappointment?)

There are many things in life I would pay an infinite amount of money 'just to see':

David Bowie singing 'Look Back in Anger' backed by Atoms for Peace and Radiohead
A person who watched Breaking bad and DIDN't Cum in their pants about it endlessly
A successful 'Video Game to Movie' Crossover
The people of all the worlds creeds and religions coming together to admit that they are probably wrong about most things.
The proclamation that banishes Simon Cowell, The X factor Judges and in fact the whole concept of the X Factor from our dimension in order that they can spend eternity in the outer darkness warbling and sniping at themselves... (and for some reason taking Leigh Francis with them)

But I tell you what isn't worth paying anything 'just to see'.
My tube train. The same tube I get every morning*.. in fact the same carriage of the same Tube train that I get every morning. I wouldn't pay to see that would I. That would be silly... Foolish... Utterly Ridiculous.

But somehow that's exactly what I ended up doing this morning. 

(*Yeah Yeah Pedants, possibly not the exact one.. bite me... They don't vary enough that one is suddenly worth my heard earned Coin compared to another)

I was on my way to work, via the Northern Line. I crossed the barriers swiping my Low-jack Tracker.. I mean 'Oyster card' and proceeded to the place where the street meets the 'Hell Line'. The train was there.

It wasn't even doing anything. Not a sexy dance or an amusing skit or blowing a whistle and banging a tin of Special Brew on the ground. It was just sitting there, growling to itself and getting gradually fuller and fuller. Nothing that would entice me to throw pennies at it, pay admission prices or tuck a note smelling of regret and unspent hormones into a garter belt. Normal Tube Train behavior really.

I joined the throng in it's belly and waited. I waited some more. I continued waiting.
Then there were two announcements. The first from a platform announcer who said: 'There are minor delays on the Northern Line, we suggest you take the first train and change at Camden' (Then rather ominously) 'All Underground tickets will be honoured on local bus services'
Almost immediately a second announcement rang out, this one from the driver. He said: 'They don't seem to be very minor to me. I'd say severe, and if you can I'd suggest you find an alternative route to travel' I recognised the voice, the last time I heard it he was telling me that there 'May be a fire in the train in front so I'm going to have to work my way down this train, and drive it backwards down the tunnel and against the flow of 'traffic'... so please let me through". His tone was dour and cynical. It was a voice to trust.

Luckily there's an overground station nearby, so I hopped of the resolutely stationary tube and sauntered back out the barriers. Whereupon I felt the ghost hand of Boris Johnson LITERALLY pluck some money out of my pocket. Well not literally, not even nearly literally... more figuratively. Let's just say it charged me.

Yes the technology charged me for a journey that I hadn't even taken. I paid to look at the tube going nowhere. I spent money just to see a load of sweaty, angry swearing commuters, pressed up against each other and squeezed into a tube. Something that I could have seen from the other side of the barriers for free.

I'm sure I can claim it back somehow. But I'm equally sure that the turnstile is high-tech enough to 'know' that I was in the same station and hadn't travelled anywhere... if it knows that then it knows it's done wrong. It;s a thief, pure and simple. And it outsmarted me good and proper (Which isn't such an amazing feat at that time of morning to be honest). There was nothing I could do but swear loudly and floridly, at least until the Transport Police Guy started eyeing me up like I might be some kind of migrant electrician.

So what have I learned?
Well, the guardians of the gates of the Hell Line (The northern Line as it is known to mortals) are wily, they have no scruples and, for some reason, they need money.
.. oh and I'm a short tempered arse in the morning.

Day 4 Pray for Hashtags! (Or, why spending the eleven seconds typing that is less useful that an equivalent amount of work, even if you exclude the 4 seconds spent hunting for the # key)

There is currently a new 'Pray For' Hashtag going on in Twitter land.

I'm not going to go too much into the details behind it, because:
A) it's kinda personal, and I'm sure that the real people involved wouldn't want to one day stumble across a snarky little blog like this and think I'm making fun of them directly. I'm not that much of a dick, but I have to say:
B) it's one of the singularly dumbest accidents in all the history of dumb, stupid and ridiculous things to ever happen outside of a Tarantino Plot Contrivance (If certain reports are to be believed).
But don't worry, the megastar is unharmed. But the fact that he was involved has given this story it's heft. And so we have a new 'Pray For'

I remember first becoming aware of this trend with #PrayforKatrina, a well intentioned idea to get people to think about the victims of a hurricane and not, as the name implies, to join together in a mass worship of a destructive weather condition and declare it our blustery overlord.
(I'm pretty sure of this, my memory is slightly hazy of the details Or maybe that's the late stage of Caffeine withdrawal fugging up my brain bits)

Since then I've seen hundreds of these things. Some dealing with large disasters, some with small localised events that have been given traction by a little celebrity endorsement. Every time I think the same thing. 'Why Pray?'... Seriously. Why? Whatever the thing is that you want God to intervene against has already happened. It's done. The prayer is late. If you want a prayer to do that kind of work you need to be getting in on pre-emptive hashtag strikes. #PrayfornextWeeksMassiveDisasterAtTheXFactorStudio
Something like that

Ok. I'll admit it. It's easy to mock (Really, so Easy) because I'm an atheist, and so I don't believe prayer does anything for the recipient. Sure it might be fine for you, it might focus your mind and give you a moment of contemplation that allows you to internalise and rationalise a disaster, but prayer demonstrably has little effect, hence all the disasters that keep 'fucking shit up'. There's a lot of people praying out there, but this stuff keeps on happening.

Oh, and for the record. I don't buy that idea that God throws a screaming hissy fit over tolerance of homosexuals... Seriously, by your own doctrine he wiped out the entire planet, save one family, for 'wickedness'. If he really didn't like dudes with dudes (And it's nearly always dudes with dudes that inspire the gyp reaction in these idiots) He'd have found a way to just stop that cold. I mean, if he really did invent everything, he woulda left out that whole 'Prostate feels nice' bit...

Anyway. So I understand the argument that it can raise awareness of an issue. But more often than not I fear it's like a viral platitude. You Retweet, or add your own spin to the hashtag, then you move on. You've done your bit. It's as effective as saying 'Oh Dear' and then flipping channels.

How much better would #RaiseMoneyFor be? Any faith can get behind that, and even the hell bound heathen like me can join in. If you can afford to, you chip in, if not.. well the Retweet might actually put the issue in the sight of someone who can and so is actually useful.

There have been campaigns like this, and I applaud each and every one... but 'Pray For'?
I'm sorry, it just doesn't work for me.. and quite likely doesn't do anything for those it's intended to help...

Of course I might be wrong*. In which case I'll see you all in Hell.
Pray for Me.

(*I'm not wrong though.. oh and if ANY of the religions other than yours happen to be right.. You'll be in just as much hell as me... But don't worry, they aren't right either...)

Day 3. Osborne and Cameron's Sahara Snowman Extravaganza (Or Why Owen Jones and Guido Fawkes can now duel on airborn Porkers)

Oh thanks Cameron and Osborne...

You are truly the gift that keeps on giving. I was looking for something to write today.. and boy howdy, you are the well that never dries up.. in fact you are a sink hole into subterranean pacific, and as fast as I squeaky-wheel my bucket down into that fetid darkness, I will never drain you dry...

Yes, you have gifted me... 'The Lobbying Bill' as it is colloquially known, or, with slightly less politeness, 'that fag-packet idea to bukkake jerk all over the unions that somehow ended up with all the charities, NGO's and... well anyone with any kind of opinion in the middle of the circle ready for an eyeful of Politico Jizz'.

To say ill conceived is a kindness. It is akin to detonating a grenade in your house to scare off a mouse, or perhaps enacting a Brazil-style bureaucratic nightmare against anyone who spends over 5k on anything that might, by accident, seem to effect an election result in order to hamstring the Union funding of your political opponent.

It was all looking so promising too. Ed had seemed to mishandle a whole Titanic load of Union power plays in the selection of Labour candidates. (I say Seem, because the whole thing was so complex and seemed so openly shady that my caffeine-defficient eyes start to bleed when I so much as glance at a report about it).

The time was ripe for a well thought out bill.. a scalpel.. that in the hands of a surgeon would make the tiniest incision, severing the link 'twixt party and funder, the life-blood would drain out of the union machine as people who joined purely as a 'Fuck you' to the Tories (such people do exist by the way) would instead spend their money on real ale and tickets to steam fairs... Labour would crumble, Obvs, because it's not like they've ever had any nod and wink donations from the wealthy is it?
Finally Cameron would be elected lifelong king of the world and be given a sixty foot high Robot suit from which to rule, the skies would darken and we'd all voluntarily troop down to Hades to begin our new lives as daemons of the outer darkness...

So, of course, they gave it to Andrew-Neutron-Bomb-Lansley.

So now if anyone thought I had enough money and influence to effect an election result.. in any way.. I'd have to register... You can't speak out on matters of public interest, either pro or anti government. Only News Media and Politicants themselves are exempt

Basically it's a 'Now Shut up EVERYONE' bill...

Ironic really that it has done exactly the opposite and got everyone talking about the bill.
More than that, it is nothing short of Miraculous that it has got everyone on the same side for once. Seriously, you've got Guido Fawkes publicly agreeing with Owen Jones. It's wonderful, I've never seen the country so united. It's like the Olympics for political people.

'Anti' Statements have also been made by:
The Taxpayers Alliance
Greenpeace
Conservative Home
Labour List
The BMA
38 Degrees.
and even...
The Electoral Commission
Yes.. The Electoral Fucking Commission have reservations. All we need now is Osborne and Lansley to issue a statement saying that 'This Bill is a Wanker and we're going to do a double arm clothesline on it" and we'll have a clean sweep

But Perhaps I've got it wrong, perhaps it isn't out and out undemocratic, unworkable lunacy. Perhaps David Cameron is a political genius and has finally created that 'Big Society' thing that he was so into a few years ago. A whole network of communities, who would normally be opposed, all come together for a common good.. the defeat of the most illiberal piece of nonsense I've ever bothered to skim my caffeine-hungry eyes over someone else's analysis of...

At least if that is all true and when we do find ourselves voluntarily marching down into underworld to 'enjoy' the eternal rein of the Dark Lord Cameron, we might find Owen and Guido performing the Bolero on the, now 'ex', lake of fire...