Nothing Ever Changes....Ever

This blog has died a death due to deciding that it is a complete waste of oxygen to moan about things that I have absolutely no control over. I need a worthwhile topic to fill my precious skive time and berating a bunch of politicians who already have every red top in the land worked up into a nauseating level of incredulousness seems as pointless as Girls Aloud.

So what topics would I like to write about?

Last year I wrote a short blog about my feelings after a trip visiting the battlefields of the first world war and I also recently added another entry. I've read a fair bit about both the world wars and it is a period in history that interests me greatly - but I find reading about death and destruction almost as depressing as having to sit through Britain's Got Talent.

As someone who very rarely See's the good in anything it's proving quite difficult to find a subject that I could spend my time being constructive and positive about- I often find that forcing myself to reach out into new fields of endeavour is met with derision and cynicism by my inner miserable bastard. I have, over the years, transformed from a young cut and thruster with a glint in the eye into the king of moaners, the envy of misery guts all over the land. But miserable bastards are just that - miserable, and I hate to be in the company of one - This is unfortunate as I come from a family of manic depressive alcoholics who very rarely commend anyone on anything. Getting a Nobel peace prize would be met with "they give them to anyone these days".

A typical conversation in the Genius family

They: "Got a new job then"
Me: "yes - £20 grand a year and I start on Monday"
They: "if you'd tried harder at school you'd be on double that wage by now"
Me: "But you told me that it didn't matter if I had qualifications, that I would get along just fine without them - you said you didn't have any and you'd done alright"
They:"I told you that because I could see you were going to fail. Of course you need them you simple bugger. Since when have you listened to me anyway"
Me: "well actually mother, all my life"
They: "Well that's your fault"

We British have a reputation for being a bunch of moaners and as with all stereotypes it's not without reason. If it's not one thing then it's the other that incurs our bleating. Take the weather for example - It rains eight months of the year (sometimes more) and we piss and moan about not being able to go outside and do the things we want to do like keeping fit and abseiling, and when the sun does poke through the mordor like clouds the first thing we do is moan about the lead melting temperatures, and stay inside because it's too dangerous to go outside because we'll get cancer in an instant and die a thousand horrible deaths in a hospital full of Swine-flu and MRSA, where there aren't any British nurses because they've all left the NHS to work as strippers, which only leaves asylum seeking nurses who move their whole families onto a ward and pass them off as patients. Meanwhile we retreat indoors to watch our saviour,The Lord of the Bastards: Simon Cowell, crush the dreams of those who dare aspire to be something. Oh how we love to fee people fail miserably. Especially children. Christ, they even delay the news back to accomodate it.

The ironic thing is that I now sound like the whingeing fuckers I profess to hate.

Please excuse me as I open a bottle of vodka and find the wife's sleeping pills.