We distance ourselves from sink estates
while others drown in misplaced hate
the grime, the concrete, giro cheques
it's all so feck...less.
Students in our coffee shops
the java slop the java slop
the office workers two by two
the office couples the Office shoes
Broadsheets? So broadminded mate
Murdoch rags just peddlin' hate
lets quaff our hummus wear our flip flops
benefit fraud gives us a big strop
The 2.4 and four wheel drive
three bed semi, office skive
attainable with banal work
and not the work those fuckers shirk.
Oh I'm the same
the same as you
the difference?
I've got a fucking clue.
Tuesday 4 May 2010
Wednesday 22 April 2009
Gag Reflex
The anticipation shakes my whole body, my vision slips from blurred to straight with every second. The synapses of my brain explode with delight at the thought of reversing the natural order of things, making what goes down come back up.
I ready myself, positioning my head over the bowl; sleeves rolled up.
I make my hand into a gun, two fingers for the barrel. I slip it past my lips, brushing the different zones of my tongue, right to the back. "This one is going to take some reaching", I think. I strike gold, stroking my tonsils.
I convulse, once, twice, three times. "Here it comes..."
torrents of chunder spew forth from my mouth and nose, this afternoon's soup filling the bowl, with the odd rebellious cornflake catching in my throat. I grip the seat 'til my knuckles pale and wait for the inevitable second bout. It comes again, longer and faster. I think i'm going to Hendrix myself, make like Mama Cass and asphyxiate right here, cooking a pavement pizza and choking on the topping. Then it ends, i hawk up the blockage in my nose, and gag as the sour bile hits the back of my throat. Spit or swallow? Better spit.
My legs creak and knees crack as I stand up and pull the handle, draining the toilet. I wipe my mouth on some toilet roll, and chuck it in the bin. Now for the really good part.
With one shaking hand I pull out a lighter, the other removes a smoke from the packet. I insert, light, inhale, exhale, and feel every quivering nerve relax and slacken. I slump down on the toilet seat to maximise the pleasure.
Beats SlimFast any day.
I ready myself, positioning my head over the bowl; sleeves rolled up.
I make my hand into a gun, two fingers for the barrel. I slip it past my lips, brushing the different zones of my tongue, right to the back. "This one is going to take some reaching", I think. I strike gold, stroking my tonsils.
I convulse, once, twice, three times. "Here it comes..."
torrents of chunder spew forth from my mouth and nose, this afternoon's soup filling the bowl, with the odd rebellious cornflake catching in my throat. I grip the seat 'til my knuckles pale and wait for the inevitable second bout. It comes again, longer and faster. I think i'm going to Hendrix myself, make like Mama Cass and asphyxiate right here, cooking a pavement pizza and choking on the topping. Then it ends, i hawk up the blockage in my nose, and gag as the sour bile hits the back of my throat. Spit or swallow? Better spit.
My legs creak and knees crack as I stand up and pull the handle, draining the toilet. I wipe my mouth on some toilet roll, and chuck it in the bin. Now for the really good part.
With one shaking hand I pull out a lighter, the other removes a smoke from the packet. I insert, light, inhale, exhale, and feel every quivering nerve relax and slacken. I slump down on the toilet seat to maximise the pleasure.
Beats SlimFast any day.
Wednesday 25 March 2009
The Death of the Student
Academia as we know it has altered permanently. The pecuniary deities have seen fit that students of higher education are no longer academics in training, they are consumers, and they wish to be treated as such.
A wise man once said "An education is the only thing that is given and cannot be taken away". But now it can, it can be taken away and sold off to the highest bidder who doesn't mind being in debt 'til the age of 40, who lets the almost compulsory need for a degree affect the rest of their live for the worse.
Having chaildren later in life, becoming slaves to their careers and a system that takes all and gives little in return.
But hey, what the fuck am I gonna do, for another band?
A wise man once said "An education is the only thing that is given and cannot be taken away". But now it can, it can be taken away and sold off to the highest bidder who doesn't mind being in debt 'til the age of 40, who lets the almost compulsory need for a degree affect the rest of their live for the worse.
Having chaildren later in life, becoming slaves to their careers and a system that takes all and gives little in return.
But hey, what the fuck am I gonna do, for another band?
Sunday 22 February 2009
Doing Nothing While You're Doing Nothing
I'm doing nothing
and doing nothing while i'm doing it
well
i'm getting ash on the floor,
and allowing my cups to gather dust,
and letting the rips in my jeans get bigger with each footstep,
and watching the lamp bleach grey the black CD boxset underneath its glare,
and draining the national grid of electricity,
and selecting songs to listen to,
and thinking,
it's hard work,
doing nothing.
and doing nothing while i'm doing it
well
i'm getting ash on the floor,
and allowing my cups to gather dust,
and letting the rips in my jeans get bigger with each footstep,
and watching the lamp bleach grey the black CD boxset underneath its glare,
and draining the national grid of electricity,
and selecting songs to listen to,
and thinking,
it's hard work,
doing nothing.
Tuesday 3 February 2009
Bows, Buttons and Sushi
What was it that I first saw?
To be honest, I can't remember all that well.
She filled me in on the details.
Like Bowie, she looked different every time i saw her.
But still,
everything about her was her.
and from then on, everything was her.
Even in the cold, mist, and fog streaming from the muddy brown Mersey,
just holding her hand made me warm
and it was probably only a streetlight
but it looked like a halo.
and so to plans for the future.
We're growing up, growing big,
and if we want it enough
we'll do it together.
To be honest, I can't remember all that well.
She filled me in on the details.
Like Bowie, she looked different every time i saw her.
But still,
everything about her was her.
and from then on, everything was her.
Even in the cold, mist, and fog streaming from the muddy brown Mersey,
just holding her hand made me warm
and it was probably only a streetlight
but it looked like a halo.
and so to plans for the future.
We're growing up, growing big,
and if we want it enough
we'll do it together.
An open message to workers striking this week
A union organised strike is positive action.
It is collaborating in a socially organised way to achieve positive goals.
However.
What is currently happening all over England is neither positive, nor is it socially conscious.
You fucking Stella swigging Pink-eyed arseholes are missing one key thing.
English people don't seem to want to work.
Yesterday, because of some light snow that any Eastern European would consider little more than icing dusted on cake, 1/5 of the British workforce did not show up for their jobs.
That's 20% of just under 30,000,000 people. I'll let your kids do the maths.
Furthermore, your cries of "them foreigners been takin' our jobs" is a tad unfounded, and a totally crippled excuse, as of this 30,000,000 strong workforce, 300,000 are foreign nationals.
They work harder, for longer, and with less self-righteous whining.
Who in their right minds would actually employ you? And why has this not been brought up before? Is it the reform of the benefit system? Is it the recession? Have you realised you actually have to get up off your fat arses and actually do some work?
Arthur Scargill must be ashamed.
It is collaborating in a socially organised way to achieve positive goals.
However.
What is currently happening all over England is neither positive, nor is it socially conscious.
You fucking Stella swigging Pink-eyed arseholes are missing one key thing.
English people don't seem to want to work.
Yesterday, because of some light snow that any Eastern European would consider little more than icing dusted on cake, 1/5 of the British workforce did not show up for their jobs.
That's 20% of just under 30,000,000 people. I'll let your kids do the maths.
Furthermore, your cries of "them foreigners been takin' our jobs" is a tad unfounded, and a totally crippled excuse, as of this 30,000,000 strong workforce, 300,000 are foreign nationals.
They work harder, for longer, and with less self-righteous whining.
Who in their right minds would actually employ you? And why has this not been brought up before? Is it the reform of the benefit system? Is it the recession? Have you realised you actually have to get up off your fat arses and actually do some work?
Arthur Scargill must be ashamed.
Monday 5 January 2009
Students Today
Before I arrived at university, I had a romantic vision in my head; mainly of politically active, idealistic intellectuals who like to wear sweaters.
Then I came to Bournemouth.
During fresher’s week, I looked around at the political societies and saw nought but UKIP, Tory and New Labour. Are we really that apathetic? Where were the traditional leftist student groups? Where were the people who believed in change? Who saw the wrongs committed by their government and decided positive action was the way forward. People who GAVE A SHIT.
All I see is people who are far too fucking happy with their middle class, middle income homes. People who are far too stressed with the trivialities of their own comfortable lives to care about something which they don’t think they have a hand in.
They do.
Now, I’m not saying we be Communists or Anarchists, nothing quite so extreme, that’s not necessary. All we need is to be a little bit more aware. To know what’s going on. We need to believe that our actions can change things for the better. Because they can.
I’m not on about such clichés as taking on ‘the man’ or the Public Enemy Favourite ‘fight the power’, good activism starts at the grassroots level. Getting fair-trade food in the cafeterias (I know there already is, but hear me out, it’s hypothetical) is worth just as much as a major cultural change. Really, it is.
So let’s get it going, students of Bournemouth, let’s be young, and lets be crass enough to care.
Then I came to Bournemouth.
During fresher’s week, I looked around at the political societies and saw nought but UKIP, Tory and New Labour. Are we really that apathetic? Where were the traditional leftist student groups? Where were the people who believed in change? Who saw the wrongs committed by their government and decided positive action was the way forward. People who GAVE A SHIT.
All I see is people who are far too fucking happy with their middle class, middle income homes. People who are far too stressed with the trivialities of their own comfortable lives to care about something which they don’t think they have a hand in.
They do.
Now, I’m not saying we be Communists or Anarchists, nothing quite so extreme, that’s not necessary. All we need is to be a little bit more aware. To know what’s going on. We need to believe that our actions can change things for the better. Because they can.
I’m not on about such clichés as taking on ‘the man’ or the Public Enemy Favourite ‘fight the power’, good activism starts at the grassroots level. Getting fair-trade food in the cafeterias (I know there already is, but hear me out, it’s hypothetical) is worth just as much as a major cultural change. Really, it is.
So let’s get it going, students of Bournemouth, let’s be young, and lets be crass enough to care.
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