Nanny State?
Do we have a nanny state? I don't think so. I believe it is fairly easy to tell whether or not we do, the signs would be as follows:
- Mary Poppins clears the scum off the streets by wiggling her nose. She then makes an audacious and wildly popular move to seize power, explaining that a spoonful of sugar helps democracy die down.
- The army is replaced by a throng of dancing animated penguins and the police force is replaced by small squadrons of soot-faced chimney sweeps, with dubious cockney accents and hearts of gold.
- Full financial recovery is achieved within months as the city's bankers are given some first-hand lessons in what is really important in life.
- The issue of binge drinking is resolved with the plummet in alcohol sales as a result of young people realising they can get high (up) simply by telling weak jokes and laughing hysterically.
- Umbrellas start talking.
Those are the signs of a nanny state. It is not here yet but I suggest we are all mindful. I'm sure we'd all rather have an overzealous government hell bent on eradicating our human rights under the guise of protection than have to ask Dick Van Dyke for directions.
The Dangers of Dieting
I’m dieting at the moment. It’s a common story, I (still) need to lose the Christmas pounds and shouting at them doesn’t appear to be scaring them off. I had a tin of Pea and Ham soup for lunch. I might have to eat a piece of bread later. Otherwise I'll be ravenous when I get home and inhale dinner.
If I'm still hungry I'll probably eat one of my girlfriend’s arms and then she’ll be all like “Ow, ow, oh God, oh Jesus there's so much blood, there's so much blood, what the hell are you doing?! You ate my arm!”
And I'd be all like “Nom, nom, nom, munch, chomp, chomp.”
She’ll be screaming and crying and stuff and then eventually once I’m full I might feel sorry and try to make it up to her by getting the little hand-held kitchen vacuum and shoving it into her bloody stump. It would probably still work because it’s cordless and maybe we could find a way to charge it from her heart, which would be more eco-friendly, which is quite important to her.
But then after a while it probably wouldn't work and she might feint from the strain or blood loss or something and then I would probably just have some chips which would ruin my diet and I really wouldn't appreciate her not helping so maybe it’s worth her remembering that, so she can try to be less selfish in future.
Abba Will Kill Me
I'm going for sushi tonight. It's highly likely that while I am there someone will kill me. There won't be any fuss. It will be very quiet, it won't happen immediately but my fate will be sealed.
Of course I'm not talking about my lovely girlfriend who'll be there without, I hope, murderous intent. No I'm talking about the Polonium B pushing Russian secret service. They are going to kill me, I know this because what I am about to write is the kind of information that could bring Russia crashing to it's knees.
I could forget what I know. I could look the other way. I could. But I won't. I owe it it to you. I owe it to myself.
So, this is it. Four little words: Putin danced to Abba.
"Whoa! Get down! If you ever speak of this I'll make a hat from your lungs"
There, I've done it, that is a relief. He denies it of course. As would anyone who had danced to Abba, (yes, yes, it's great pop, but it's still as musically interesting as sand) or who set up a private concert with Abba tributary Bjorn Again.
God bless.
Read it here last.
Safer streets?
Today a good friend of mine told me about a vigilante in America. Imagine how excited I was. Finally, I thought, a dark knight or vigilant avenger has awoken. Somewhere a millionaire playboy, whose parents were slain before his young eyes, has come of age. Somewhere a young farm boy, who always knew it was too easy to out-run a train, has found his city.
I could barely contain myself. We all knew it had to happen, that they had to be here, that they were just awaiting their opportunity. We knew that the crime-stained streets and corrupt power merchants were living on borrowed time. Today is a good day - no natural disasters, no late trains, no one starving; today we are born anew, into a life of hope and opportunity, with heroes in our world to whom we can aspire, to help us grow together so we can all work towards the greater good.
Or at least that was what I thought. Imagine my disappointment when upon further investigation I discovered that the aforementioned vigilante was in fact a bar owner in America who patrols the streets with a remote controlled security robot.
However, even this might have been exciting. Let's be honest, when I say Security Robot we're all thinking about ED-209 from Robocop and getting very excited, assuming he's worked out that whole shooting innocent people glitch - although that said it's not something the police on either side of the ocean seem to have sorted out so maybe it's not going to be a priority in the future.
However, even this was not to be, the reality of the situation is that the 'Security Robot' looks more like a dustbin on wheels, with a camera and a big water pistol... disappointing picture disappointing video.
Strangely enough though this thing, which is about as much a robot as I am fire-breathing centipede and which is about as terrifying as pens, seems to work. Apparently the dealers do disperse, although they come back later. Which is weird because I would have thought that drug dealers are a bit tougher than that. Or maybe it's the drugs? Maybe we see a wobbly dustbin roll up and hear a bloke tell them to leave the area with a crackly loud speaker but what their crack-addled minds perceive is a forty foot vampire-bot, with twin machine-guns and ear piercing death threats in the voices of their mothers.
Or maybe they're just really polite and they've gone somewhere quiet to laugh.
I know he means well but it's so disappointing. This was supposed to be the future. When you read about the year 2008 or similar in literature it's always accompanied by pictures of happy families teleporting or a man chatting to his six-armed alien neighbour as he plucks vegetables from his garden on Mars.
Then you hear about something like this, you get all excited but it turns out to be R2-D2's special-needs half-cousin. When it's locked up alone at night it probably tries to send R2 emails about his 'crime fighting', carefully highlighting the similarities with the Jedi cause. I bet he's on R2's 'blocked' list.