Scum-Sucking Skanks

My mother’s car was stolen today.
She left it in a ‘secure’ high rise car park whilst she went shopping. Shopping for less than one hour. This ‘secure’ car park has security guards. Security guards that were on a brake. A brake at 9.30am. This ‘secure’ car park has security cameras. These security cameras were “not working” today. Kinda makes you ask what’s the fucking point of having a ‘secure’ car park? May as well park it on a patch of grass.

The day was already shitty. Raining all day – and humid as fuck. I’m roasting as I write this. I’ve had a long day – training; a soul-sucking train journey home; a twenty minute wait for a every-10-minutes bus.

No matter how pissed off and shitty I feel I feel worse for my mum. That car was vital for her. She used it to ferry all us lazy swines to work. She also looks after her two grand daughters (aged 4 & 2). That car was essential.

There was a baby seat in the car. What kind of rat bastard steals a fucking car in a place of shopping with a baby seat in it? Can’t they fucking fathom that the owner of the car probably has a baby with them?

My one hope is that whoever that little shit is that stole the car, my one hope is - He Gets Cancer. And then his immediate family gets cancer. Swiftly followed by his extended family. And I hope his Friends Get Cancer. And then their immediate families. Swiftly followed by their extended families.

My-Name-Is-Earl promotes the idea of karma – do good things and good things happen to you. Well my mother is a fucking saint – and this is fucked.

I know I will not get my cancer wish. God isn’t cool like that. The little bastards will probably never be caught. It does though make me feel better, wishing horrors upon them –

Racing in car, crashes into a lamppost, get trapped, and burns slowly to death
Get bum raped by an aids victim
Nob Rot
Nervous breakdown – institutionalised – years of electric shop therapy – night after night getting bum raped by Aids inflicted mongoloids.

I lied; it does not make me feel better. Christ, what makes it worse is that this is not the first family to get robbed and it certainly won’t be the last. All this talk of the immigrants-&-asylum-seekers in this country… our own scum are far worse.

Here’s a solution – we can not deport the majority of the asylum seekers because of the human rights issues in their natural countries – so let’s create our own issues. Every car robber, every house robber, every thief cut their fucking hands off. If there are extenuating circumstances…Tough! You should have spoken to someone about it. There are enough fucking charities and help groups out there. No. Cut their fucking hands off. Repeat offenders? Cut their fucking children’s hands off. And then it won’t be such a fucking paradise for all those poor souls that brave starvation, dehydration, drowning, suffocation, etc etc to come to this country and be hated, vilified, and sent back.

Ha ha, slipping into right-wing mode there aren’t I?

There must be some joyous events occurring in my life at the moment. Isn’t there? Let’s see…

Went round to a friends over the weekend – drank my weight in lager (or at least if felt that way). That was enjoyable.

Part of that training today was the dreaded ice breaker. Tell the group ‘something that you enjoy’. God I hate that – always feel under pressure to have something amazing. Something that screams, Neil is having a good fucking time all the fucking time! Boy oh Boy, that Neil, looovvvvveeeees to Par-te! And yet, I can never think of anything.

I like the small things. Really pointless boring things. Sorting out my music on itunes. Sounds really dull and nerdish (fuck you man, if it’s good enough for John-Cusack!) but it chills me out. It’s nice and relaxing. Obviously I’m playing the tunes as I do it, singing along and such (currently playing – This is The One, The-Stone-Roses). And if it wasn’t for my bleeding crap PC screwing the files up every five minutes (I have no idea why, but this fella has had the same problems it seems) I wouldn’t have to do it.

One of my faves is going to work in the morning. Work has nothing to do with it though. Getting the station in the morning before the train arrives, looking at the same faces. Now, let’s be honest. When I say faces, I mean women, and when I say women, I mean beautiful women. Obviously I am too much of a shit bag to do/say anything, but it relaxes me knowing they are there. I know it’s sad, pathetic, acting like a perving loser. But it’s me and I like me!

Ah, the relaxing tones of Paul-Weller (Moon On Your Pyjamas, Wild Wood). I have itunes on shuffle. Trying to get a good accidental play list going. I had a couple of crackers – late 60/early 70’s rock, 80’s/early 90’s rock, late 90’s/00’s rock. Some great tunes. But thanks to the files constantly moving from folders, and the iPod’s annoying inability to store songs independently, they were all wiped when I recharged. I love my iPod – it’s a Godsend on that train each day – but it could be improved quite a lot.

Anyway, my anger is still there so I’m off to play Here-Comes-The-Pain on the Playstation 2. Think I’ll go Goldberg. He’s a hard bastard!

Guess this is the first ‘proper’ post on this blog – it feels like a journal. Hope I ain’t bored ya.