Jesus Loves You, But Everyone Else Thinks You’re a Cunt

Well, where do I start? I’m tempted to begin with the whole “rise above it, don’t let them get to you” spiel but where’s the Goddamn fun in that? The truth is, if I was willing to let my anger walk off into the sunset hand-in-hand with my ire and my hatred as bed buddies in a twisted ménage à trios of Biblical brutality, I would’ve turned to the priesthood years ago. As it is, I’m sitting here now quite literally wetting my pants with excitement at the multitude of bastards, cunts and twats wandering aimlessly into my crosshairs. The only dog collar to be found ‘round these parts can be found on the two-bit hooker currently locked in my cellar.

So what makes me angry? It’s reasonably safe to say that my anger-list is extensive and ever-expanding. In fact, it’s expanding quicker than Eddie Van Halen’s spandex leggings if he were to sit atop his feedback-drenched, turned-to-11 amplifier. I honestly couldn’t say for certain who or what resides at the apex of said list, but it’s probably a toss up between Gary Neville and Alex Ferguson, those stalwarts of Manchester United’s, now crumbling, empire. Trivial, I know, but my blood is presently bubbling away somewhere near boiling point and is only prevented from evaporating completely by virtue of me not being able to see or hear the cunting bastards.

Scratch the oozing sore and burrow a little a deeper into the flesh and I’m ready to explode with fury at those two arrogant, puss-filled arse fiddlers. We (the rest of the UK, that is) hate them, they hate us and I’m fine with that arrangement. It’s just a damn shame that two of humanity’s most obnoxious examples happen to live a mere thirty-five miles from me.

I also – and please forgive my rather angular change of subject – abhor people who know that “uncopywriteable” is the longest word in the English language that contains no repeating letters. How does one find these things out without being a monumental drain on social services? Do something worthwhile with your time, for Christ’s sake. [I found out through the media of television, before you wonder!]

And now for something completely different. Again. The somewhat jovial beginning to this piece must be succeeded by genuine causes of antagonism, and I’m sure you can all relate to my main chosen area at which to vent my spleen: Animal rights activists/terrorists/idiots/whatever-you-want-to-call-them. Quite simply, anybody who values an animal’s existence above that of a human needs a succession of punches to the face carrying such ferocious force as to knock sense into their hazy, dream-like glade of a brain.

These people get my goat. Not only that, they get my goat and return it to its natural habitat to “set it free” of my imposed life of agony. How they can campaign against a worthy cause such as medical testing, which concerns the furthering of the human race, is beyond me. And for all their protestations of how barbaric these processes are, I don’t see many of these self-righteous bastards refusing treatment tested on the very animals they claim to protect. Sure, there’ll be one or two weasel-faced wastrels that decline treatment according to their ethical dogma – good luck to them, the sooner they’ve departed this mortal coil to make daisy chains with the fairies in the sky the better.

A few months back, a couple of these new-age tree-shaggers thought it necessary to exhume the cadaver of the grandmother of an investor in a UK medical research facility and hold it for ransom, the ransom being the cessation of experiments on animals in said facility. At what point did they think that these actions would further their cause? It led to mass outcry among every person who possessed an ounce of common decency – I’m willing to bet that even ice-cold kiddie-messer and murderess Myra Hindley turned in her grave (without the aid of a new age hippy trying to unearth her, of course) – and prompted our esteemed leader, Tony Blair, to sign a petition in support of testing on animals.

I blame society. The same society that values the human rights of convicted criminals over that of the general public, releasing rapists and murderers because refusing parole would “infringe their human rights” only for them to murder, mutilate and massacre once more. The same society that has become so politically correct that the George’s Cross – the National Flag of England – Is viewed as an inciter of racial hatred. The British government panders to these people and tip-toes to their tune so as not to appear racist. I shudder to think how such shenanigans would be dealt with in the States. I’d agree with my Yankee friends, too.

Political correctness in general raises my hackles. I can already feel them tap dancing the fandango at two to the dozen as we speak. For instance, Christmas cards distributed by local councils have replaced “Merry Christmas” with “Happy Festive Period”. Whoever thinks of these ideas needs a rusty nail to the rectum quick sharp. They then have the gall to lecture the masses on how “Christmas is losing its true meaning.” Of course it fucking will if you haven’t got the brass bollocks to actually call it Christmas. What in the Lord’s rancid armpits did you expect, you enervated fuck-nugget?

That’s right, rank stupidity and limp-brained thought processes are as common in modern society as they undoubtedly were when man first began clubbing his fellow man over the head with mammoth femurs in order to scavenge his neighbour’s fetching leopard-skin jump suit. The difference is about 100,000 year’s worth of evolution: we now walk completely upright, our brows no longer resemble particularly crass golfing visors and we no more feel the need to walk among our fellow man with our wedding tackles clearly visible, swinging like a pendulum in a stiff breeze. Yet, idiocy triumphs! The class buffoon is a hero every time his two brain cells collide, yet answer a question correctly and derision is forthcoming quicker than it takes a whippet with an arse full of dynamite to run the 50 yard dash.

Somehow, over the course of mankind’s evolution, it appears that he who resembles Neanderthal man the closest is king. The Human race should be striving to better itself yet bottom-of-the-barrel cretins such as the animal rights activist, the politically correct lobbyist and the primitive knuckle-dragger are hauling our civilisation back to their own sludge-dwelling level. I hate the fact that there is very little we can do to halt this regression into primordial oblivion. I hate the scenario that good, honest, decent folk are being swamped by human-like creatures not worthy of the reproductive organs their genes afforded them. I try to find solace, I really do, but the best I can furnish myself with is Shakespeare – and more accurately, Lady MacBeth – with the words, “That without remedy should be without regard.” Wise words for such a scheming cuntflap as Lady M, yet little succour is derived by this writer. Those bastards make me angry. They always will. And we all know that anger leads to hate, which in turn leads to the dark side. See you there.