Saturday 21 March 2009

Liars

Liars, they’re everywhere. They work for newspapers, on the telly, in marketing. They are found in the form of solicitors, bankers, politicians, police officers. They even work in major clothes shop chains.

Clothes shop liars may not seem as important in the grand scheme of things as, say, a lying policeman. But that doesn’t make their untruths any less annoying. Whilst shopping, I often find myself gazing disappointedly into the mirror at something which previously looked a lot better hanging on the rack. It is at this point that I am inevitably approached by an overly enthusiastic liar who states incredibly loudly in order to compete with the ridiculous volume of some utterly shit music “I think that really suits you.” Well of course. I expect that everything in this shop ‘suits me’ in the greedy eyes of this eager arsehole. An innocuous little lie you might think. “This shop assistant is just doing his job” you might state. “He’s only trying to make a sale” you may cry. If these are your reactions then unfortunately I must inform you that you are massively wrong. This is just the thin end of the wedge. At no point is ‘just doing your job’ an excuse. If just doing your job involves being a lying shit, then perhaps you should have thought twice before accepting the job in the first place. We have to draw the line somewhere. At what point does lying or acting in ways which are morally dubious stop being ‘just doing your job’ and start to be your responsibility?

A simple yet effective technique used by huge liars such as banks for an example, to help diffuse the anger of anyone who may have been on the receiving end of their malpractice, is to employ an army of front line staff who are happy to work for them and yet inexplicably see no connection between being a corrupt organisation, and offering their services to one. These people take great offence if any criticism of the organisation is aimed directly towards them, even though they happily accepted the paid position of representing said organisation. “I’m just doing my job.” I expect that phrase could be used by the guards at Guantanamo Bay.

Everyone lies, and everyone is lied to. But when you or I lie, it’s usually a spontaneous sort of affair. It doesn’t come immediately after a promise to be “transparent” and it tends not to have an effect on millions of people. But there are some people who are all too used to lying. A certain unsavoury group who have become so accustomed to the ‘art’ of lying that they don’t even have to think about it. It comes so naturally to these people that telling the truth actually becomes an effort. Can you guess which specific group of liars I’m referring to? That’s right, politicians.

In the House of Commons it is not allowed for an MP to refer to another MP as a liar, even if it has been proven that the MP in question has lied in a way which misleads the people of Britain. Now, why is that the case? Surely it is incredibly important for MPs to be labelled as liars if it is proven that they are. What possible reason could there be for this rule? Apparently it exists to preserve the integrity of the House of Commons. I would have thought that having a definite system in place to oust from office on a permanent basis any MP who is found to have deliberately and knowingly lied, would do far more for the integrity of the House than pretending it doesn’t happen.

I would suggest a complete overhaul of how we tolerate the political system’s failings in this country is well overdue. Perhaps if we steered away from the culture of MPs feeling it is their duty to protect us from the truth and into an age of genuine transparency where it is understood by elected officials that the people should know exactly what is happening at all times instead of eradicating our rights to make controlling us easier, then maybe genuine integrity could exist within the House of Commons, instead of papering over the cracks with smarm, spin and more lies.

But what do I know? I’m just a guy who swears at shop assistants who tell me I look nice.

Monday 9 March 2009

Languid language

The wow factor, the credit crunch. We have blue sky thinking outside the box. Chefs are reducing it down before frying it off while we utilise our skill sets to multitask in order to generate a buzz amongst our target demographic of hoodies, youths and members of the over 50 plans that encourage peace of mind as they unlock our wealth that is inexplicably trapped within our properties which aren’t homes any more, they’re commodities full of dual aspect ‘good sized’ bedrooms with neutral decor which is clearly superior to any sort of colour.

When did the way in which we are spoken to become such ludicrous bullshit? Utter nonsense in language just passes us by on a daily basis without the perpetrators ever being questioned. No, instead they are followed. Let’s copy these people for they are the way forward. The future clearly lies within a vague non language built on the core values of skirting round a subject without ever saying what we mean or getting to the bloody point.

Some of the worst culprits are of course the politicians. People who build careers on their ability to not answer questions were always going to be at the forefront of a new exciting way of speaking based on buzz words and catch phrases. “Knife crime is up, but overall crime is down” they say whilst simultaneously looking concerned, smug, sympathetic, irritating and disingenuous as they are interviewed by Andrew Marr. “ But we have a substantial regeneration project underway which will create new horizons for the troubled core of minority cases which still, unfortunately, exist despite our previous best efforts to facilitate their growth within the ever changing micro communities which exist on the outer inner boundaries of our otherwise goal focused, enterprise developing society which will, we predict due to extensive focus group based studies, provide a catalyst for this new non-under-lower-apprentice generation which we think will prove to provide the sort of blue sky thinking we need during this worldwide, global, international slump-crunch which is most definitely, in all probability not our fault or even anything to do with us whatsoever.” I can’t remember who said all that, but those were their exact words.

The media is more than happy to flood every publication and programme with this bollocks. In fact, the media has developed an interesting trait of late of assuming we know exactly what they’re on about when they spout this drivel, but then feel the need to explain when mentioning something that we really should already know and understand. I often wonder who it is they are trying to help when they write sentences that start with “The Prime Minister, Gordon Brown, today said...”

Is there really anyone alive today of an age where they might consider reading a newspaper, who doesn’t know the name of the Prime Minister? Is this the stage we have reached? It’s turned out to be such a massive hassle trying to educate these idiots that we’ve resigned ourselves to the notion that the only way we’ll all be able to communicate with them is if we lower ourselves to their basic level.

As the saying goes, ‘if you can’t beat them, join them.’ Well I’ve got a plank of wood with a nail sticking through it, so I think I’ll chose the beat them option.

Sunday 8 March 2009

Jesus says "pay your taxes"

Welcome to fucked up country. We were going to call it that, but we settled on Britain instead. Or is it the United Kingdom, or should I just be talking about England, and have an entirely different point of view when it comes to Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland. I don’t know. Nothing is clear. Where ever this is there is one thing for certain, here, nothing makes sense. It’s a topsy turvy land where being backwards is the way forward. A land where we are taxed heavily every time we drink alcohol, only to have that tax spent on ridiculous infomercials telling us not to drink. Drugs are bad. By bad I obviously mean not taxable. And when I say drugs I am of course referring to all drugs in an all encompassing statement as is the fashion amongst politicians and media types. Because as we are all aware thanks to the constant bombardment from finger wagging nonsense spreaders, there is absolutely no difference between cannabis and heroin.

Leaders and decision makers here often hold religious beliefs, sometimes genuine beliefs, sometimes pretend beliefs for marketing reasons. When attempting to manipulate the god fearing section of society, it makes sense to portray yourself as sharing their beliefs, even if you don’t. ‘Votes is votes’ as the saying that I just made up goes. But I am baffled by the contradictions which arise when politics meets religion. I’m not necessarily surprised by them, as where there is religion, there are contradictions. But it does confuse me how a person can on the one hand believe earth and all it’s wonderful content of animals, plants, washing machines, indigestion and toilet duck was created by the all knowing, one true god, and on the other hand, vote to have the cannabis plant, one of gods amazing creations, made illegal. What sort of statement is that making? Surely the politicians don’t think that they know better than god? Tony Blair finds himself in an interesting juxtaposition having played a part in promoting equal rights for homosexuals, only to convert to Catholicism immediately after stepping down as war criminal...er, sorry, I meant to say Prime Minister then, I get confused sometimes. Now I don’t know a lot about Catholicism, but one of the few things I do know is that Catholics have quite specific rules and views when it comes to homosexuality. But of course, whether a politician is very much in favour of equal rights or a complete homophobe is irrelevant. All that matters is saying enough media friendly sound bites to back up whatever fake opinion will keep them in power.

And that is where the best example lays of how in this country up is down, left is right and talentless is talented. Rather than politicians working for us their employers, they actually believe, you’ll like this one, they actually believe that they are in charge of us. I know. Can you believe that? I’m not making this up. Somewhere along the line everything became distorted. These complete and utter shits seem to think that they have a superior intellect to the rest of us and we need protecting from ourselves, because god only knows what kind of capers we’d get up to if it weren’t for the government protecting us by eradicating our basic human rights. Politics and religion may not mix, but there is an undeniable similarity between them, in the sense that there is no evidence to support the existence of god, just as there is no evidence to support the theory that we are all better off by allowing the lowest human scum imaginable to increasingly control our every move.

Telly addicts

It may not be particularly interesting to go on about shit on the telly, but I’m going to do it anyway. I have to, because it really pisses me off. I know I know, I should just turn it off, but sometimes, especially when I’m feeling a combination of hung over and still very much drunk as I awake on a Sunday morning (for morning read afternoon), I only have enough energy to reach out and press the power button the once. If the remote is far enough out of reach to warrant actual movement in order to grasp it, it gets left where it is. This can then lead to a devastating situation involving my eyes and ears, and Hollyoaks. I’m not going to bore you by complaining about this fucking dog shit of an abomination to programme making, save to say that everyone involved in its development and production should be culled and not replaced. I won’t labour the point when it comes to the undiluted hatred in its purest form that I feel towards the talentless, over pruned peacocks, strutting about that shitty fucking set with their ridiculous fake tans and bleached teeth, reciting lines from officially the worst scripts ever written in history! I won’t do that because I’m sure you’ve heard it all before, and besides, Holly-arseholes-oaks isn’t the most annoying thing I have had the misfortune to accidently witness on the TV today, hard as that may be to believe. A much more infuriating assault on the senses comes from the patronising advertisements separating Hollyoaks into smaller, more manageable segments for the simple minded viewers to digest.

Fucking Nat West! Holy shit! I literally cannot believe how massively poor those adverts are. Any advert involving ‘real people’ played expertly by actors and actresses too awful to even be considered for a walk on part in Hollyoaks, gets precisely on the very tips of my nerves, but this, this incredible feat in rage inducing, condescending, feeble advertising is by far the worst of the whole disgusting bunch. It is even worse than confused dot bleeding com. I know what you’re thinking, but trust me on this, it is worse. Giving advice on how to save money? Get to fuck. Is there really something to be taught about saving money? Is that what you’re telling me there at Nat West? I’m no banker, I’m not a chartered accountant, but I’m pretty sure the main thing to ‘learn’ when it comes to saving money is don’t spend it. It’s ok, I’ve grasped that concept firmly, I don’t need to be told how it works by someone with a name badge. I could be wrong. Maybe there is an array of complicated techniques that need to be explained extremely slowly to us all by ludicrous cretins in the most patronising tone of voice imaginable. Perhaps if we’d had that sort of inane bullshit spoon fed to us in years gone by we wouldn’t be suffering from such a huge slump in the economy. Yes. The more I think about it the more it makes sense. The fact that global capitalism is based on hugely corrupt financial systems which create a market prone to periodical recessions has nothing to do with it. The reason we’re in the financial shit is because we didn’t listen to the cravat wearing lady with skin the colour of a satsuma and drawn on eyebrows when she told us about the Nat West’s exciting new saving package which involves the revolutionary system of them holding on to our money for us.

Patronising adverts it would seem are everywhere. I’m in no mood for that sort of shit today. I don’t need to be told that alcohol is bad for my health, especially not while I have a massive hangover, and I definitely don’t appreciate being lied to about the effects of cannabis. Isn’t it about time we stopped trying to educate morons through their televisions by tilting our heads to the side slightly and looking sympathetic? My telly box is full of 30 second segments designed specifically for the purpose of scaring me into conformity whilst simultaneously selling me something I neither want nor need. There’re even adverts telling us to read books. If the only reason a person reads is because their television tells them to do so, then I’m quite sure whatever their literature of choice is, it won’t do a great deal to expand their tiny mind. I know there are people out there who need to be repeatedly told not to put the sharp thing in their eye, but why do the rest of us have to suffer a society geared towards these idiots? Yes, if we don’t help them then maybe they’ll fall prey to a burglar because their telly didn’t tell them to lock their door. Or perhaps they’ll get food poisoning because Jamie Oliver wasn’t there to tell them about the importance of cooking meat before you eat it. But just because they need help, doesn’t mean they deserve it. If you need to be told what to think, then why think at all?

Saturday 7 March 2009

Mandelson lives!

Now, generally, hearing someone say “Mandelson lives” would be enough to ruin my day. But today it is especially annoying. Why? Because I awoke today with possibly the most positive and uplifting sentence I have ever heard, nestled comfortably at the forefront of my thoughts. A sentence that holds so much potential for good that I actually started this morning with a smile on my face. The aforementioned sentence is “Peter Mandelson has refused police protection.” I detected a chipper tone in the news reader’s voice when she uttered these glorious words yesterday evening, as I got my usual fill of passive aggressive scaremongering and censorship from the BBC. A tone that suggested, to me at least, that she was implying there’s an open season for all terrorists, radicals, anarchists and passer bys who fancy a pop at Peter Mandelson. I suppose I should be referring to him as Lord Mandelson...but no. I much prefer disgraced, lying, cancerous haemorrhoid Mandelson. Unfortunately, my joy was short lived as I turned on my television today, only to not hear a news report about an attack at Whitehall involving 47,000 perpetrators, and only one target. No of course not. This would never happen. What sane, west hating, radical terrorist (hmm, might want to re-think those last five words) would want to harm a man who has done more for lowering the morale of a country than 100 bombs could ever do. No, the thinking man’s radical knows that Mandelson has a far superior track record for terrorising this nation than any murderous psychopath you’d care to mention, and therefore he must be preserved. Throwing green custard, as welcome a sight as it was, really doesn’t achieve anything, now does it? All anyone is talking about is that the arsehole deserved it, the message the lady was trying to get across was somewhat lost amidst the collective hatred this nation feels for Mandelson, rather than becoming the focal point of the ensuing news reports. That’s not surprising though. A man whose oratory skills regularly generate a nationwide wince, and has the likeability of a sour hacksaw cut to the genitals, is bound to generate a hatred towards himself amongst the general population, far more powerful than any hatred towards bad policy. That’s the sad truth of how fickle the masses are, and these are just the ones who know who Mandelson is. A much better idea would have been to hold him down and tattoo a list of policy ideas across his stupid face. Then you could be sure that policy would be at the forefront of the nation’s minds. I bet they’d do a feature of the tattoo artist on the culture show.