Another weekend of pain – this time spent getting royally mucked up in Manchester and being kidnapped by Virgin Trains – yet again. I mean what kind of excuse is it to say you can’t sell any tea or coffee or hot food because you’ve run out of paper bags and the law *requires* you to sell anything hot IN A BAG?
Nearly managed to kill myself by bouncing off a door with one of those enormous exercise balloons but there you go – back of my head/neck still intensely painful, but I’d probably know if I’d fractured anything. Right. Right?
Apart from that – excellent Mancunian antics – made a really inappropriate pass at one of my friend’s office juniors. NICE.
Can’t work out why I’m so tired today. Last night to bed at 10pm after a delicious nourishing meal of broccoli cheese and fighting with the flatmates. Admittedly I woke up between 3.45 and 5.15 am, but I didn’t get up till 8 – that still a good 8.30 asleep. I think the only solution is to start going to bed as soon as I get home. I thought you were supposed to need less sleep as you get older – I seem to need more.
The downside is that quite a bit of that 1½ hours was spent thinking how much I hate David Blunkett and what an intense pleasure it would be to kick him down a set of wet rubbish strewn concrete steps, preferably at one of his own ‘illegal’ immigrant centres while he attempts to explain exactly why not only are ID cards a good thing, but why it’s both stupid and an act of ‘terrorism by default’ of me to even think about questioning his vision and trustworthiness on this.
I think the thing that really really gets me going about Blunkett is the mock outrage he expresses that anyone could doubt his word, whilst simultaneously attempting to insinuate that anyone not 100% signed up to his fascist vision must have something to hide – probably a member of Al-Quaida already, and really he’d be doing less than his duty if he didn’t tip off the Department of Homeland Security about his suspicions. Now here’s a terrifying thought – and I don’t think I’m being paranoid there either.
This is the state we have now reached. While at the moment only those unfortunate enough to have funny sounding names and swarthy skin are being locked up indefinitely without trial the rest of us need only suffer ‘home’ arrest. All it takes is one anonymous politico or civil servant to add our name to a list somewhere and suddenly we will be unable to travel anywhere abroad :-
Why can’t I go there?
You’re on the list mate.
Can I see the list?
Not in the interests of national security mate.
Can you tell me why I’m on the list?
Against the interests of national security mate.
So what am I accused of?
That’s a matter of national security mate now fuck off before you have an unfortunate accident in a police cell.
You think I’m joking? You know I’m not, and you know it’s true. Anyone who speaks out against this tide of ‘anti-terror’ insanity sweeping over us is very rapidly going to find themselves going nowhere at all.
As soon as politicians start saying things along the line of “The innocent will have nothing to fear from these proposals” my blood starts to boil and can shortly afterwards be seen spouting out of the top of my head in a rather unpleasant geyser of rage. Everyone has something to fear. These people are NOT trustworthy. Their assurances that none of this information will ever be used other than in a strictly controlled and approved manner is both ludicrous and pathetic. It basically amounts to being asked to put your head in the lion’s mouth and hope he doesn’t bite it off. Fair enough, except that in this particular case the lion also assured us that WMD really, really existed. He’s been caught making it up before and now when anyone dares suggest that as a result of being caught out telling such gargantuan porkies they don’t really want to put their head in his mouth, his rage is incandescent.
Negative stuff : Intense feelings of hatred, terrible feeling of depression at concept of another Blair term, increasing age, girth, everything really.
Positive stuff : just got paid. Lots. HA. In your face Blunkett!
And one more thing – I fail to understand how Blunkett shagging someone else’s wife doesn’t qualify as sleaze. However you look at it it’s not the act of a gentleman or the act of someone who puts much stock in the values he supposedly represents – the sanctity of marriage, the upbringing of children in a stable environment, the use of contraception etc etc. And even worse than that, the thought of Blunkett on the job is just so repellent I can actually feel my lunch coming back up. I can only assume Mrs Quinn is suffering from some sort of deep seated psychological childhood trauma which makes her want to throw herself under aging megalomaniacs. Reeeevolting, anyway.
Tuesday, November 30, 2004