I had my sporadic Facebook stalking session this morning (c’mon, we all have them!) and whilst doing it I came across a number of people with whom I went to secondary school with. A small number of them are doing . . . okay. The vast majority of them, however, are all stuck in the same place, with the same bad grammar and same childish attitude they left school with. The only difference is that they have a different hairstyle and are either married, have kids or both. Thinking about how drab their lives have remained got me thinking about why I turned out so differently from them all. The main reason is perhaps because I was always different from them. Much like now I do not really make friends that easily because I have a personality that is noticeably different from everyone else around me. I do not watch the same television shows as most people do, I do not have the same sense of humour as most people and I certainly do not have the same set of arbitrary, eclectic interests as everyone else. Seeing the great number of them who had children made me thankful for being gay; being gay has probably saved me from the same boring fate as everybody else. It may have taken me a few years to get somewhere but I have managed to make a start on securing a better future for myself. I am not a world famous author or singer or anything (yet) but I do have and always have had an ambition that I have aimed for. When you are stuck in a relationship with a kid at the age of 21 your life is pretty much over. No longer do you have time to follow your dreams and follow through your ambitions because you have an overgrown foetus to feed and support. So, I thought I would make a list of the pros and cons of being gay.


  • I am unable to become stuck in a loveless relationship because I have seeded some random girl in a club.
    – At least 10 of the people I ‘stalked’ this morning now have children. One person even has three of them. THREE! At the age of 23 I still feel unable to care for myself let alone three children. What makes it worse is that the eldest is 6. They went from receiving their results directly to the hospital I am assuming. Why on Earth they felt the need to implant some girl they had probably known for less than a week with three children is absolutely beyond me.
  • I have to fight my way to success.
    – I cannot simply live in any old area of the country because certain towns/cities/counties are no-go areas. They are dangerous. I would not be content with living where I currently live for the rest of my life. I would never feel safe and would need to purchase a stab-proof vest just to feel safe walking to the shops for a pint of milk in the morning. Feeling unsafe, however terrifying it may seem a lot of the time, does give me the advantage of having to work my way through the world in order to live in a safe environment where I feel comfortable with being who I am.
  • I am consistently fabulous.
  • Being gay means that I am a lot less likely to settle down with someone immediately.
    – Because I am unable to get a guy pregnant I can up and leave a relationship whenever I want. I do not believe that this has been the case for many other people I went to school with. Not only that but many of them are single parents now. Their partners have left them and they are stuck with a child they will harbour resentment issues with for however many years it takes for a child to leave you. Being gay has given me the opportunity to choose who I want to be with and permitted me to experience a relationship without the dynamics of that relationship moving too fast.


  • I never feel completely safe.
    – Whenever I go out I worry about what tee shirt I am wearing, whether or not I should wear a hat and even if my bag is positioned in a certain way that could make me look stereotypically gay. Since bleaching my hair a few weeks ago I have had to take a hat to university with me (everyday) so that I can wear it on the way home so I will be less likely to incur any abuse. It is ridiculous (obviously) that I should be made to feel this way. That I feel uncomfortable and unsafe walking ANYWHERE is a serious flaw in our society. I fear that I may never feel safe enough to be completely who I am when I leave the house.
  • Synonyms for ‘bad’ are in constant use.
    – Words such as ‘gay’ or ‘faggot’ are constantly used, be it on the streets or online, and I cannot get away from them. It makes me feel terrible having to hear somebody using a word to describe me to also describe a terrible television show, or whatever it may be.
  • Homophobia.
    – Like the point above I am perpetually bombarded with abuse that may not even be aimed at me. Homophobia is prevalent in every room I walk in. It could be from a religious person in the room who does not ‘agree’ with my ‘lifestyle’ (being gay is only a lifestyle because of the constant things we have to do in order not to be beaten to a pulp; things such as having our own clubs. Bodybuilding is a lifestyle, finding somebody attractive is not), or it could be from a simple word such as ‘gay’. Either way it is upsetting to be gay and not because of my orientation but because of the oppression gay people still receive. I feel uncomfortable in the presence of members of my own family because of something they never see. Even people who are not homophobic (normal) feel uncomfortable being around me because they are worried they may say something offensive. They probably would say something offensive, without meaning it, because they are not aware of what is different about a gay person. The answer? NOTHING! The only thing we do differently is admire different parts of the body to a heterosexual person. Homophobia is still very much alive and is still a major issue for every member of the LGBT+ community. If it was not still an issue, I would not be typing this right now.

I hope I have not bored you, I understand this was a long post. It was also quite depressing towards the end there, too. To make up for the dispiriting ending have a picture of a fabulous cat!

Smize, darling!

The entire planet has been shouting colours at each other all day today. The Dress, an optical illusion that people see as either white and gold or blue and black depending on . . . science things, has somehow become the most important ‘news’ story of today IN THE WORLD! The whole world has gone crazy.

Meanwhile, ISIS still pose a major threat to the entire planet but are so last year nobody gives a custard cream. This humble planet we call Earth is literally falling down around our ears and yet the only thing anybody seems to care about is the colour of a repugnant dress. My only guess is that my previous blog about marijuana has been read by all the world leaders who have then immediately legalised cannabis just as I suggested. That is the only solution I can think of. People must be higher than a kite being flown from a hot air balloon.

However, if there are any laughs to be had from ‘The Dress Debate’ look no further than Labour’s feeble attempt at capitalising on the viral image with this gif.

Despite today’s politicians being as dry as a duck’s asshole with not an ounce of humour running through their veins, their attempts at funniness is hilarious.

UKIP’s LGBT chair (I didn’t know they had one either) has resigned. He has quit because the party lacks a ‘gay-friendly tone’. The use of the word ‘lack’ suggests they are gay-firendly at least a little bit. Tom Booker, devout Christian lookalike and adorably attractive ex-LGBT chair, has ditched the loonies and has been replaced by Flo Lewis. I am doubly stunned, they allow girls into UKIP, too!

I doubt anybody reading this will actually care that this previously unknown person has resigned a previously unknown position, I only bring it up, however, because whilst reading this story I discovered that UKIP’s LGBT group ‘oppose same-sex marriage on the grounds of religious freedom.’ A gay person denying themselves gay rights is like Rosa Parks asking for a slap from a member of the KKK. What a stupid stance to take.

It is not just the UKippers who are plighted with such stupidity, however. Everyone has their own ideas, which are equally difficult to comprehend. For example, the Lucky Break Wishbone. Lucky Break Wishbones are a small triangular piece of plastic that you can share with a friend, should the real thing already be claimed. For those of you have no idea what I am talking about and, let’s face it, why would you, the idea is mental; what I am talking about is a plastic replica of a real wishbone. One of those small teepee-shaped bones generally found in chicken and turkey carcasses at Christmas and during Sunday lunches.

The real thing

The real thing.

This is a product that insists ‘It’s time you got your lucky break!’ However, they do not mean you get the job you have always dreamed of. They do not mean you win the lottery and live off the interest. What they actually mean is: “Give us your hard-earned money for a piece of plastic!”

Who is buying things like this? What kind of people think to themselves: “Damn, I hate never being the one to snap a dead chicken’s bone in half. I must spend $3.99 in the event little Timmy beats me to it again.”
The Lucky Break Wishbone Corp., however, are a bonafide business and there are people out there who are buying their products. It’s scary, isn’t it?
You can find the company at: www.luckybreakwishbone.com

The moral of this story is that no matter how ridiculous your ideas may be, check to see if they are marketable. Whenever you see, read or hear about UKIP again just remember the dead turkeys – I also think turkeys when I see Farage.

Many people are excited because the consistent debate of whether or not cannabis should be made legal is once again in the press. Cannabis, it has been reported, is 114 times safer than alcohol. Alcohol has been labelled the most dangerous substance.

Over the years I have had numerous debates (arguments) about the legalisation of cannabis. I was brought up to believe that all drugs were bad and anybody who did them was a filthy scumbag. However, everybody is doing it! People are smoking joints like they’re going out of fashion.

I have taken legal highs three times. I was told they were safe and that they had no negative side effects. It now turns out that, like alcohol, they are more dangerous than cannabis, too. I would not disagree with that. The first time I took them I had no side effects at all. The second, I blacked out for a few moments and did not remember how I made it from downstairs to upstairs. The third and final time I believed I was having a heart attack and had to be assured, numerous times, that I was definitely not having a heart attack. I then took cannabis and had NO side effects other than laughing for forty minutes. I had complete control over my actions, which I did not when I was under the influence of legal highs, and came up with some fantastic ideas!

Because of this and due to the fact that places such as Amsterdam, one of the most perfect cities in the world, have legalised the stuff, I too now believe that it should be legalised in the UK. There should of course be boundaries set in place and I am in no way suggesting that heroine should be next, I am simply suggesting that to lower the misusage of cannabis and to also lower crime rates Cameron should light up a doobie and chill out, about the whole thing.

What it comes down to is moderation. Unless you want to become a nut job who wears tinfoil hats, believing the FBI are after them, do not smoke it fifteen times a day like you would a normal cigarette. If you just want to relax, have a good time and laugh at a cliched Hollywood rom-com more than it deserves to be laughed at and eat your own weight in mustard smothered crisps, be sensible and have a small amount that will result in these desired effects.

Mr. Mackey is right but not entirely.

I have kept this blog for around a month and a half now and only three times, out of my promised daily posting, have I failed to write anything. I have done this because of reasons. These reasons are that I have found myself disenchanted with my personal creative writing. This blog is considered to be creative writing but it is not a short story, script or novel; which is what I want to be writing to put food on the table (or, truthfully, Dominos knocking on my door).

It is difficult to spend around an hour writing a blog post to then begin editing a short story, for example. For some it may not be but for me the transition is incredibly laborious. My mind has tricked itself and me into believing that it can only work under certain conditions. For example, I cannot work when there is noise around me unless that noise is ‘background’ noise. If people are talking and I can hear the conversation clearly, I will breakdown and zone into their discussion rather than concentrating on my own thoughts. If it is plain background noise and people are chatting away in their own respective groups, I can cope perfectly well. No specific words filter through and it leaves me no other alternative than to focus on my work.
I also find it difficult to write in certain environments. If I am at home it is like a grind to put my fingers to the keys. My partner is usually typing away or watching something or breathing and it is tremendously off-putting. If I was to work in a library or café, however, where the patrons are quite and the mud-slushie makers are not too loud, I am in my optimal working environment. Anyway, for those reasons I have been unable to write any posts on here because I have instead been focusing on trying to string at least one sentence together.

As of today, though I am back and plan to stay. Writing this blog, however many people liked my posts or even read them, is somehow cathartic. It gives me a purpose in the evenings and allows me to think about things from a somewhat different perspective.

After all the thoughts about creativity I have been having lately I thought it would be nice if people could share their own stories of how best to concentrate and/or get creative.

I have a few tips myself that may be useful to others that I sometimes use:

  1. Read a short story – many are dreadful but there are many things that can be taken from them – shining pieces of gold, hidden beneath the shit – that may spark your inspiration-o-meter.
  2. Use Tumblr as a muse – I love Tumblr with a passion. You can search for anything in the world and it will be on there. A great deal of things I have written in the past is because of Tumblr. Often there will be a picture or a short quote or anecdote that somebody has posted and it will send you clicking for a fresh document to begin writing.
  3. Listen to music – cliche and boring but always worth a try. I needed to write a poem for something a few weeks ago and within twenty seconds of listening to a song I had begun writing one. Songs with strong lyrics and powerful imagery are undervalued tools – use them!

I hope this (very) short list can help you. If you have other methods of getting into that creative bubble, please leave a comment and help others who are struggling.

People are idiots. Well, at least, that is what people tell me.

I often get told things by people and those things invariably include the words ‘don’t do this.’ It may be my latent rebellion slowly inciting itself or could it just be that I simply do not agree with silly suggestions but whenever I get told not to do something I usually completely ignore their advice. I have recently been told not to vote for the Conservative party because they plan to cull badgers or continue to cull badgers or whatever it is they are doing. I would be fine with vetoing the culling, providing they are not culling them for a sensible, rational reason, of course. I am not fine, however, with barring myself off completely from a political party because somebody told me to.

I understand that the culling, if done for no specific reason, is wrong. I would not wish harm upon any living creature. Saying this, if a (hypothetical) political party was absolutely perfect for our country and (hypothetically) would get us out of debt and create a utopian society for us but would also kill a few badgers, I would still vote for them.

Please, do not believe me to be an animal hater. I love all creatures and had I not moved into a flat that disallows animals, I would be the proud owner of at least ten puppies. However, there comes a point where you must vote with your head and not your heart. The people that have been telling me not to vote for them this year have been Tory voters their entire life. Now that a few badgers (you know, those animals that you NEVER see) are to disappear, they are rabbling on their high horse and grabbing their (hypothetical) torch and pitchfork.

Hypothetically imagine (again) that the Tory party would create a utopian society. By this time next year they would have cleared Britain’s debts, created homes for all, the crime rate is non-existent and nobody has to work and we are all millionaires and so on and so forth. However, they will lessen the number of kestrels. No longer will we see them swooping majestically down to the ground, zoning in on a mouse (just like now). Would you turn your back on the perfect party then? If you say yes, you are no longer a voter I trust in.

Let me please just say once again that I love animals. I would also like to point out that I do not love the Tory party. I just think it wise to follow your head and not your heart when it concerns your own (human) well-being.

In conclusion, this is why I do not listen to people who tell me what to do. They usually have less than no valid points and kick up such a fuss that they do not think of their own best interests.

Kim Jong-un, hated North Korean dictator, has apparently been turning heads recently. Why are people turning their heads? To look at Kim Jong-un’s head, of course!

His previous ‘style’ of curtains (ew!) has been replaced with a slightly Jedward-esque look. I am not sure anybody is a fan. They are not too fond of his hair either. My main concern about this new ‘do lies with the common man, struggling to survive under his regime. Last year reports of a law surfaced that men across the country had to mimic the hairstyle (or face imminent death! (allegedly)). Now they will have to return to their barbers once again and watch as their hair is butchered into a pineapple. If the reports of this law is true I have a feeling I know why it came into being. I believe that Kim Jong-un is actually wearing ludicrous wigs, forcing people to duplicate the style and then sitting back and laughing at everybody’s ridiculous hairstyles. This has to be the only solution. No way can a living human being actually want to look the way he does.

His eyebrows are also under scrutiny as they have become even shorter than before. I have yet another theory for his eyebrows. I believe that his eyebrows are actually the hopes and dreams of his followers. Each time a follower loses his/her faith in him, his eyebrows shrink in size. This is why he becomes angrier. If ever his eyebrows return to a semi-normal size, his face will be set in an expression of pure joy. You can quote me on this, by the way.

A number of people on the internet have been outraged also by his weight gain, slating him for his growing greed whilst his people starve.

Still, it must be tough being a dictator. I hear that Adolf Hitler actually committed suicide due to the stress he was under.

David Cameron has been promising more things this week. His idea, in my opinion, is a fantastic one. However, people are rabbling about it with foamed mouths and the idea, although fantastic, is a recycled mantra that has been spouted for years.

He wants to make ambiguously grouped ‘young people’ work for their benefits. If anybody has any problems with this, they are either an offshoot of the nanny state we have been so vehemently warned of for so many years, or are simply an impassive young prole themselves. After six months of being on what Cameron calls ‘Youth Allowance’ – which is essentially Jobseekers’ Allowance for undeveloped layabouts (between the ages of 18-21) – he plans to “change lives” and “reward work” to ensure young people do not get confused with the welfare being a “one-way street.” Should the scheme be carried out successfully, it would be a good idea.

However, people are angry about his suggested plans. They say it is tantamount to punishing those who do not work and remain on the state’s money rather than a way to help people back to employment. These people are WRONG! If the youths in question do a good job at their assigned apprenticeship or job placement and the company they worked for have a position for them, they will hire them. It will lower the level of unemployment. If the person is bad at their job, either because they purposely do not want to work, or simply because their minds cannot take the pressures of a non-sedintry lifestyle, they should be deemed unfit for life and sent to Room 101 immediately.

The idea that people can spend their school careers sitting idly about, loitering on street corners and taking photographs of their private parts for their ‘bae’ rather than working hard for their future, is one that boils my blood. I was not a fantastic student when I was at school and I know firsthand, for a fact, that there is clearly something wrong with the system. Schools themselves must constantly be bombarding their students with messages of possible destitution should they not work hard. If the students then continue to not work hard, they will be punished for it in later life by being poor and starving.

My views may seem harsh but life is a choice. If you make a conscious decision to be a benefit scrounger and refuse, pointblank, to work for a living then you are what is considered a sponger. The country cannot afford to support a sponger’s weekly weed habits so must abolish the worn notion of welfare and being the hand that feeds and must instead become the hand that bites. Punishment is clearly needed when there is a known issue with people spending their lives on the benefit system. If, on the other hand, you cannot work for real reasons, such as having depression or no limbs, eyes and/or mouth, money should be given to them. If a person cannot work through no fault of their own, they must be supported for this is Britain, not Nazi Germany.

When I lived in Thamesmead I lived near a family that never worked, created children at the age of 14 and did nothing other than smoke their drugs and ride their motorcycles around the estate, annoying others. They are the kinds of people who should put Darwin’s theory of natural selection to the test. No money leads to no food. This leads, thankfully, to their passing, a freed up household for somebody who deserves it and one less annoyance for the neighbourhood.

Take the money away and the annoyance will take care of itself.

Neighbours. We all have them and they all annoy us. There was once a time where we could “leave our doors open and no one would ever dare come rob anything. We’d know each other, see.” However, during that time, nobody had anything of any worth so why would anyone bother? Nowadays, our homes are stocked with all types of gadgetry that could fetch the humble ruffian a great deal of money for whatever it is people smoke these days.

When I was growing up my family had sworn enemies living just next door to them. For the full 40+ years (or whatever it was) they lived there, they never once spoke to their neighbours. The reason for this was because they asked the neighbours to keep their dogs quiet and, in typical pet owner style, the neighbours refused to meet their simple demands. “NO!”, they replied, rudely, “How on Earth could you ask of us such dreadful deeds?” This resulted in a terrible relationship for a ridiculous number of years with unhappy faces all round.

I, too, have noisy neighbours living next door to my current place of residence. The culprit this time is not a dog but a wailing child and its screaming mother. The child is screeching like a dying rat even as I type these words. I would love nothing more than to bang on the door and demand they gag their offspring before I adopt some children of my own and begin a game of child-screeching warfare. I cannot do this, though, as I have learnt from my families mistakes. I do not want to spend my life dodging their gaze as they pass me in the street and I disapprove of the idea of them pinching their child in order to create more noise.

I would not mind so much if the child was only loud and boisterous between the hours of 8-10PM, for example. I spend my evenings watching TV or reading anyway so would not be able to hear the little scrote. I could zone out and focus, intently, upon my chosen entertainment outlet. It is highly difficult to do this, however, when the child insists, for some unbeknownst reason, to reach his peak at the hours of 12-3 in the morning. As a model student, I am trying to get to sleep at these times; attempting to recharge my body’s batteries for the hard day of studying that will ensue the following day.

Not all is lost, however. I do have a shortlist of ideas that could potentially solve the problem and they are as follows:

  1. Demolish their house.
  2. Retaliate with loud music.
  3. Kill both mother and child in the most utterly brutal way possible.

To prevent my imminent incarceration I have opted to try option number 2. I will get up at 6AM and blast The Smiths through their walls. I do not see how my plan could fail.

I realise that I have failed, in previous posts, to welcome any comments. Please do feel free to include a comment or share a story with me. You can start by sharing any of your own ‘neighbour from hell’ stories.

Ant and Dec recently gave their opinions on politics and I cannot, for a second, imagine why. Perhaps the interviewer, now the pair are beginning to sag a little around the edges, mistook the comedy couple for the Miliband brothers . . .

It has become a trend nowadays to ask every man, woman and animal their opinions on political issues. Sadly, the people who idolise the latter – I believe they prefer to be called celebrities – commandeer their nuggets of ‘information’ and blindly follow their lead. There are a great many celebrities, I am sure, that do have insightful judgements into the world of politics. However, that should not mean that every Angelina Jolie out there should be given a column to voice their opinions. Crowd control is not a valid use of news. Any prole who has watched one of her films at some point may decide that yes, actually, the Labour party are a good party to vote for. Likeable people can be bad too, just look at Hitler; he did not get into power from sheer luck. That is right, I did just compare Angelina Jolie with Adolf Hitler.

Every five years, when voting time comes around again, the party leaders make a point of cosying up to celebrities like David Tennant and Michael Caine for photo opportunities. They do not do this because they are good friends but because Dr. Who fans (boo!) will see the picture on the front page the following day and flock, in their thousands, complete with their knitted scarf, made by their mothers, to vote for them. It is insidious.

Social media clashes terribly with political figures. They are either not popular enough or simply cannot use it because they are all approximately 13894632896 years old and have never used a computer for anything other than pornography. As a result, they throw a beautiful, gleaming cheque, for whatever it is they can afford, in David Tennant’s direction and beg them to tweet about how fantastic the Labour party is instead.

The world should not be dictated by celebrities. The majority of everyday life is plagued by them already. We cannot read the newspapers without a gigantic ad for a fresh-faced teen’s latest movie marring the pages. Nor can we even play games on our smartphones anymore without Kim Kardashian popping up every two minutes, wagging her over-large posterior in our noses with her very own dull game.

Celebrity has no place in politics.


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