Letter to TV people re: eating

3 07 2014

Dear actors, directors, screenwriters, advertisers etc,

The act of putting food in a film or TV character’s mouth, in a dining setting, is enough to give us simple viewers a clue that perhaps the character is eating or about to start eating. There is no need to force actors to eat with their Hollywood/BBC funded gobs wide open showing us the contents while making repulsive, 90db sleaurching noises. We know they are eating ; the visuals of putting food in the mouth followed by chewing is a huge indicator of this fact. There is no need to perpetuate bad manners by forcing us to listen in surround sound to the chomping and slurping of breakfast,lunch, dinner or snacks.
Please stop it.

No love
The people of the world with manners





Unashamedly metalhead

28 06 2014

Tonight during the Metallica set at Glastonbury I was reminded of how it was growing up a ‘mosher’ in a land of very ordinary people who like U2 and Coldplay or Elbow. Everyone has their own musical preferences. Get the fuck over it. I was naive to think that 20years since I last had to deal with such prejudices, they might have gone away. I believed either society had become more accepting of people who liked different music (yes music, ffs) or they at least had matured a bit and stopped caring what others chose to listen to. Well didn’t I get that wrong? Turns out people who like bands like Metallica are “subhuman”, an “underclass”, “brainless twats”, “angry” and “moronic” and that didn’t even start to describe how people felt about the band themselves, only their fans.

Growing up a metalhead at a time everyone else was fainting at the sight of Take That or truly believing Oasis spoke only of their personal experience and no one understood how it felt to be a Wonderwall (yup someone once said that outside a gig , wtf?), made life difficult at times. I was beaten up, followed around town by adults(!) being verbally abusive to me, threatened and had random items thrown at me (usually chips or glass bottles). All because the music I listened to was “heavy metal” for weirdos. If I wasn’t angry before, fucking hell was I angry afterwards.

Who really gives a fuck what kind of music someone listens to? It’s 2014 for christ’s sake, I shouldn’t have to, and usually don’t, feel the need to justify to others why I listen to the music I do. I get annoyed at having people judge me and my intellectual capacity because I enjoy a certain style of music. I was told by a professor that you don’t get lawyers who like heavy metal as “they don’t have the brains” and are better suited to “hanging around the sewers with the junkies”. These put downs and general abuse is deemed socially acceptable all because for many years metal fans were considered and treated as being social outcasts. No wonder they seem angry all the time. If this treatment was based on political preference anger would be not only acceptable but expected.

I was saddened to see that negative attitude hasn’t gone anywhere partly because no one can tell what I like online. I’m physically much safer behind my computer screen. Tonight surprised me, especially when the ‘it’s only banter’ response was coming from self confessed egalitarians (and no this is not aimed at any one person, there were quite a few open minded kind souls reacting like this). Equality for all… Unless you listen to heavy metal. You apparently are an acceptable underclass.

Well I am bloody proud of being a member of that underclass. I’m unashamedly a metalhead. I don’t even like Metallica that much. I do quite like Mumford & Sons. Sue me.





Cybertwattery

15 06 2014

I’ve remained fairly quiet on the issue of internet twats when it comes to the indyref – partly because I learned a long time ago starving trolls is the best means of killing them, and partly because even mentioning the T word (troll not twat) seems to get the attention of every brainless moron displaying the extensive vocabulary of a Viz dictionary with most of the interesting pages ripped out. Who can really be arsed?

I won’t pretend there aren’t many, many abusive arseholes out there on both sides of the “debate” because I’m not going to patronise any poor bugger bored enough to read this. I’ve met my fair share of Yes and No cybertwats. I’ve been called a traitor by a member of the yes camp for not slavish licking Salmond the Hutts rotund belly every time he speaks, and I’ve been called much worse for daring to want more for the country I live in. Oddly none of it (yet) has focused on my ownership of breasts or vagina – maybe that’s why you’ve not seen my hatted head gracing the front page of the Daily Heil. I’m sure there’s time yet.

While many are quick to jump to the defence of the hundreds of thousands who don’t embark on offensive cybertwattery, there’s a huge, important issue we’re missing out. This is a huge part of Scottish culture. It happens in real life as often as it does online. It’s just much harder to document or prove when you can’t take a screenshot. I’ve been subjected to verbal abuse since the day I moved back to Scotland. This was long before indyref was ever mentioned. It’s like a cultural game for some. Insults are normalised and because abuse is ‘just having a laugh’, people struggle to see the problem. The issue here being based around the independence campaign, highlights that what was widely distributed, localised and aimed at fatties, ‘alts’/goths or people of colour, for example, has become politically focused and virtualised. I’ll be honest, being the recipient of street abuse has dropped for me personally since the growth social media. That’s not to say some imbecile with the intellectual capacity if an overripe banana hasn’t attempted to give me what for from the safety of their car, but as this anger has transferred online, it’s just not happening as much in real life.

I think we’re being awfully naive if we believe that cybertwats (regardless of stance) are a new thing and we can’t say anonymity is always a reason as some of these fuckwits don’t have the foresight to anonymise their interactions. The internet just gives those who have the ability to shout loudest to complain about it and give the mushy banana-brained twats access to big media names in a way they never had before. The goths of the country breathe a huge sigh of relief!

Talking of celebs, let’s not pretend that the whole Rowling abuse debacle wasn’t entirely stage managed either. I mean it was like a gift. She says just wait for the cybernat abuse to appear after highlighting her obvious support for No, and lo! just like an angel of the Lord before an unmarried, virgin, teen mum, it appears. Funnily enough, it just so happens she’s got a new book coming out too. A PR guru couldn’t have timed such a non-story and predictable response so well, or could they? Half of me wants to say, surely even noob trolls aren’t so daft as to fall for that invitation but I’ve wandered down sauchiehall street when there’s been a hint of sunshine. These fannies just don’t have a single brain cell between them. Poor bunnies don’t realised they’ve been played and it’s fuck all to do with indyref really, it’s just the PRs-PR machine spluttering into action.

Christ I can just see it now. Cybertwats will become the latest PR tool in the slimy arsenal of slimy arses, and they won’t have a clue. Twaty McTwatish will continue to drop the C-bomb cos he, or she, thinks it’s dead clever. Or funny. Or something. Truth is, they don’t know why they do it, they just do. Just as their father, mother and grandparents did before them. Like flies to shit they swarm and regurgitate unintelligible bullshit because that’s how it’s been for generations. Just sit in any Scottish pub and among the genuinely intelligent and engaged debate you’ll always find one or two who just cannot do it and turn to insult. They don’t understand it and unless they break free from the twatty habit they never will. These are the same people who’d rather end a pub debate with fists or jaggy bottles and call it a laugh the next day. At least online the fists are only pounding a keyboard.

Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t agree with online or offline abuse of celebs or ordinary people, but someone somewhere has to recognise it’s entrenched in Scottish culture under the heading ‘banter’ and who wants to be the “miserable bastard” stopping “the lads having a laugh”? This problem isn’t restricted to the independence debate either and it won’t miraculously disappear on September 19th after the referendum. Something does need to be done about it both online and off but it’s bigger than the ‘online bantz’ suggests. The Scottish male’s (and females) acceptance of aggression and violence in every day life confuses me. I’ve asked people why they do or accept it and have been told “just cos” or “it’s always been that way”. I’m not claiming every scot is violent or even the majority of them, and I have seen an improvement in the past few decades but social media has given these people another outlet, this time using words and threats in writing, where it can be proven instead of in-street interaction.

How long before someone’s having a go at me for daring to say this? Well I’m allowed my opinion and to discuss my observations on my blog. Don’t like it? Scream into a pillow! I won’t be listening.





Ode to paxman on poetry

2 06 2014

So Jeremy paxman feels poetry’s too high falluten,
For people who eat quinoa or caviar but not gluten,
Says he, it’s “Rather connived at it’s own irrelevance”,
I guess it’s not like him to sit on the fence,
He’d probably moan however at my little piece of doggerel,
Written by a moron less pedigree more mongrel,
Says he, “Aim to engage with ordinary people much more”,
But oh the stench of working class and the poor
Can’t have the sweat of toiling man or woman among the pages,
Of the book containing words with rhythm & paying poet’s wages,
How could they keep their air of superiority,
If their words, no longer exclusive, were available to the majority?





You’re not the world’s first parent

13 05 2014

You’re not the world’s first parent
I’m sorry but it’s true
Billions of other parents
Got there before you

And no one really cares about your egg meeting that one sperm,
Or how you know everything there is to know about giving birth at term,
Or feeding.
Or changing.
Or that rash.
Or teething pain.
Everyone else is thinking here we go again.

It’s as if at once you’re lobotomised when a child falls out a fanny,
Your only topic of conversation is super fucking nanny,
But of course you can do it better, you’ve been a parent for five minutes,
You know all that there is to know.
Your knowledge now knows no limits.

You’re a master within seconds of squeezing out that kid,
Something you don’t know?
Ridiculous! God forbid!
And even if you’re the father,
your brain it turns to sponge,
All talk is birth and babies,
The minute your sperm sees minge.

From nipple cracks to blood and gore,
You’ve become that baby bore,
Just like the parents you once hated,
For gloating because they’d successfully mated.
You’re not the worlds first parent,
I’m sorry but it’s true,
The only one who gives a shit?
It’s you, my dear. It’s you.





A new romance

28 09 2013

As I place your long, slim, stiff, shaft
Deep into my dark, damp canal.
I writhe in blissful pleasure.
My knees go weak.
My legs cannot take the weight of my quivering body
I struggle to maintain composure
I don’t care if our physical love is forbidden,
Nothing can keep us apart…

Oh cotton buds how I love scratching my ears with you.





Modern friendship?

5 06 2013

Person 1: You will be my friend if you like green, but I won’t be your friend if you won’t declare you hate purple.

Person 2: Ok, so I like green and I’m a member of the anti-purple league, I’m cool. But you once said something horrible about potatoes and I support potato liberation, so I won’t be your friend.

Person 3: I support potato liberation too but I find green a bit grassy. Can we still be friends? By the way I’m not a fan of Michael Bublé, if you like him we won’t be friends.

Person 4: I don’t like Michael Bublé and I don’t like green but I’m indifferent about potatoes.

Person 1: Then you are my enemy.
Person 2: Then you are my enemy.
Person 3: Then you are my enemy.
Person 4: *returns to real world where life has shades of grey*