Oh, The Mission Predicted It All

One of my fave old (true) Goth bands The Mission wrote a fantastic, vicious, hateful song Mercenary. It's full of invective, spitting anger and lots and lots of 'F' words (ooh!) It was written in 1990 - when I left the UK after Thatcher screwed the country and sent it to its knees.

After today's Spending Review in the UK this is the song I've been playing all evening. Indulge me and view it below if you fancy joining me in a rant. No proper vid I'm afraid but it helpfully provides the marvellous lyrics to sing along to. It so helps when chopping the veg...

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A Real Horror Story

More disgusting news of abuse by church leaders, this time Catholic priests in Belgium. http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-11281071

This is where the true horror lies; not in the pen of wordsmiths but in the sick minds and hands of those who are supposed to be Men of God. They seem to be outside of the law. I know what I'd do to the filthy pigs.

And that pope bloke's coming to the UK this week. Appalling.

Please note, I am not anti-Christian; I am not anti-religion. But I am anti anyone using religion (or anything else, for that matter) as an excuse to carry out abuse. Sorry for rant. Had to be said.

The Corporate Cabaret

Over at me more genteel blog, is the story I've submitted to the Six Sentences Network - 6S - of my mate Olivia who walked away from the corporate monster yesterday. Power to you, Liv. F*ck 'em.

Here it is: http://micheleranger.blogspot.com/2010/07/corporate-cabaret.html

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Fag Ash Lil and Bill

Firstly, apologies to all smokers; you're not all like this.

On the way to school, one of the mothers, who I've taken to calling Fag Ash Lil chain-smokes the entire way. When she gets to the school gate she throws the end on the pavement, still burning.

After she comes out from taking little Chavie, or whatever kid's name is, into class she and another (non-smoking but ignorant) mother stand at the gate - not over the road, or on the pavement to the side - nattering, where everyone has to squeeze past them. Many parents have little ones in prams and buggies that have to pass under their cloud of smoke and inanities.

This miserable-faced woman who moans non-stop is driving me to distraction. (I know I'm moaning but it's not a way of life!) When I walk down the road to pick my daughter up, Lil's hubby - Fag Ash Bill, joins in. I have to run past them so I don't breathe the poisons of their habit and their dialogue into my lungs.

How ignorant and selfish can you get? Poor Chavie.

Rant and Rage

In an effort to turn negative emotions into literary inspiration I am listing my top three hates to see whether, by some kind of cathartic osmosis, they turn into characters or stories. Not that I'm stuck for ideas, I just need to dispose of these annoyances:

1. Coathangers. They have lives of their own. They catch on everything, and I hate them. They evoke a ridiculous amount of rage in me and many things have been torn or broken by me as a result. Answer: Anger Management? Never put anything in the wardrobe?
2. Toilet paper that doesn't tear properly. It means you have to fold it a different way, which results in a completely unsatisfactory wipe of the nether regions. Answer: don't buy Tesco own-brand, which gets thinner by the pack anyway.
3. People in my space. This particularly relates to OLD PEOPLE IN SUPERMARKET QUEUES. God, they annoy me. Right up my arse, nudging - always nudging me with their trolleys, pushing me forwards into the person in front, catching my clothes on their baskets. Answer: step backwards and tread on their toes. Be prepared to use my elbows. Aaaarrgh - why can't people respect others' space?

That's it. All done now.

Alcohol Abuse

It makes me cross that the government's answer to dealing with rife alcohol abuse is to make more money out of it by putting the prices up and adding an extra tax. This is SO TRANSPARENT!!!! Where's the guarantee they would even put the money back into the NHS?

Putting a label on bottles to tell people what damage it does? Cause, right, they're gonna read it. "Oh, I'll just buy this litre of voddie, but - oh no! It might cause severe damage to my liver. In that case, I'll replace it on the shelf and will never drink alcohol again, or at least, will drink in moderation."

Instead, why not ask WHY people do it?

Why not deal with the root cause?

How about giving young people something better to do than going out and getting lashed?

Why not invest in sports development like other countries do?

How about accepting that many young (and older!) people are creative and artistic and need an outlet, rather than using alcohol, drugs or other means to explore their visions?

Accountants should not make these decisions.