Declaring War On Arse Terrorism

Pants. They’re great. One leg in each side, pull up, fasten – BOOM – you’re clothed. Girls, you may require something more. But seriously, they are a pretty simple thing, right? I love pants. They cover and protect while allowing freedom of movement, and the many different varieties of colour, fabric, style and design provide something for every taste and occasion. So, how the fuck does it come to pass that not being able to wear them properly should become cool? Why is every gormless nob-end, usually with haircut requiring 3 hours work per day just to keep it looking like a spontaneously gang-raped dog carcass, wearing their pants below their arse cheeks now? WHAT THE FUCK DID I MISS HERE??? When I gave a shit about cool, it had some sort of meaning to it. I didn’t necessarily buy into it but at least I could understand. Not being able to put on a pair of pants is just stupid. It just makes you look like a complete fucktard. I mean, you’re not more attractive with 4 inches of your manky underpants on show to the world.

Aside from the aesthetic repugnance of this devolution of human achievement, wearing pants like this doesn’t make life easier. Movement is restricted and one has to widen one’s stance to the ridiculous in order to keep the pants on, thus undermining one of the many great features of pants, i.e. they automatically stay on until you want to take them off. These cunts walk like they’ve just shat themselves and if they ever had cause to run they’d lose the pants in a second and either have to run holding them up (impractical at best in case you’ve never had to run) or fall face first into the ground. IT’S FUCKING STUPID!!!

I’ve looked into the phenomenon and apparently it all started in the US where African American kids decided they’d get way more respect if they dressed like they were in prison. In prison you’re not allowed to have a belt because you might hang yourself with it or maybe even use it to hurt someone else so it follows that prisoners’ pants don’t fit so well. OK, so I understand the origin. I even get that stupid kids think it’s cool to emulate criminals, however, at least some of the African American kids have the good grace to cover their ill-fitting pants with long t-shirts that cover their arses…and can also, incidentally, be conveniently used to conceal weapons. Sadly, dumbfuck Aussie white kids have once again completely missed any point that might have been there. They twat around in designer clothes their Liberal-voting mum paid for, they never carry guns and they wear short shirts to advertise the fact that their only statement to the world is fail pants. It’s completely fucked. And then to add insult to injury they add a belt to the ensemble. A CUNTING BELT!!! For fuck’s sake, the only purposes belts serve are to keep your pants above your hips or  to put holsters, handcuffs or superhero shit on, which will pull your pants down if you don’t have them on properly.

Having pants that don’t fit says:

• a) I’m poor
• b) I’m just out of jail where I did hard time as a large man’s wife and/or
• c) I’m armed, fuck you!

Having pants that look like they should fit, are assisted by a belt but still sit below your arse cheeks says:

• a) I’m intellectually disabled and my carer didn’t help me after I went to the toilet
• b) I’m a mindless follower of a consumer culture I don’t understand and/or
• c) I’m so unredeemably shit as a person that I like deliberately getting simple things wrong to complicate my pointless existence, you should grab me by my stupid hair and fling me down the nearest flight of stairs or into the path of the nearest oncoming train!

Why does it offend me? What? You mean apart from it being both ugly and stupid? You mean you need more? Well here it is: these miscreants sit on public transport and everywhere else in their underpants. That’s right. Stinky undies right on a seat that I have to share. The pants are so low they don’t get sat on! What, your designer jeans cost so much you don’t want to wear them out by sitting on them?  GET FUCKED!!! Put some cunting clothes on. Do you think you’re so beautiful that strangers want to see your arse or maybe even share its contents? YOUR MUM WAS BEING NICE!!! You’re not cool, you’re not hot, you’re a useless, ugly cunt! For shit’s sake, cover your stinking arse! Your pants are supposed to go there. They’re not just for you, they’re a barrier for everyone else against your e-coli and convict jizz. If you’re not wearing them over your arse there’s no point wearing them at all. It’s what they’re there for – THEY’RE MADE TO COVER YOUR ARSE!!!

In the end this amounts to nothing less than Arse Terrorism. I believe it’s a campaign of terror by fetishists who like to put their dirty arses on other people’s things and I cannot tolerate it any longer. I urge everyone to take action against these purveyors of ugliness, stupidity and disease. Whenever and wherever you see them with their stupid arses, or strangely often lack-of-arse, hanging out over pants that have been forgotten at half-mast, I urge you all: kick them! Punch them! Throw the remains of your coffee on them! Push them into traffic! Set them on fucking fire!

The only way these arse terrorists will learn to wear pants properly is if it becomes vital for their survival. We have to draw a line, and let’s face it, people with their pants half down can’t fucking chase you so fuck ’em, you get a free shot!

Australia Post – Dirty Pirate Bastards.

So Australia Post are a bunch of cunts! This may not be news to some people but it twatted me squarely between the eyes today.  I wish there was something other than whinging I could do about it but there isn’t so I’m just going to sit here being as fucked-off as hell…again. What’s new? 

I went into the post office to get a document certified as a “true copy” today. There are an arseload of locations I could quite easily have chosen to get this done but, as I would have to post the document after, I felt it would be quicker to get it all done in the one place. What I found out when I got there was that on 15^th February this year Australia Post had started charging $3.95 per page for this service. A service which had been free until then and continues to be free everywhere else it is provided. 

I asked why the fee had been introduced and was met with an insipid smile and a vaguely uncomfortable I don’t know. 

I left the post office muttering to myself and walked down the street to the chemist where they happily certified my document without charge. In gratitude I put a couple of coins in the Salvation Army tin on the counter. I like them at the chemist. I wish I could have posted my letters there. 

I marched back into the post office and glared at the postal worker in the hope that my glaring alone would either penetrate his soul causing him to take up arms against the management of Australia Post and start a postal-worker revolution OR maybe just cause him to drop dead from a deeply-felt social remorse. My glaring powers seem to be in need of a bit of work. I paid the postage on my letter and walked outside to post it and swear to myself some more.

WHAT THE FUCK??? It used to be that the post office was there to serve the public. To provide valuable services. To help. I have no issue with anyone making a living but let’s be quite fucking honest. THIS IS SHIT!!! Australia Post is a self-funded, Government-owned organisation. They hold a monopoly over the postal service in Australia and have for the last few years been posting record profits. Furthermore, they have approval from the ACCC to put up the price of stamps to 60 cents later this year. WHAT THE FUCK DO THEY NEED MORE MONEY FOR??? The certification of documents is an important service. Is this fee a bid to simply not provide this courtesy to the community anymore by encouraging people to go somewhere they can get it for free, or is it a cynical plan to exploit even more money out of a captive market seeing as everyone has to go there eventually if they want to post their stuff? Either way it is a thoroughly reprehensible piece of corporate malignancy. 

FUCK YOU, AUSTRALIA POST!!! This decision is mean-spirited, exploitative and downright cunting well fucked! $3.95 PER CUNTING PAGE!!! IT’S DAYLIGHT FUCKING ROBBERY!!! Whoever came up with this idea is an evil shit-licker and my dearest wish is that they should die bleeding out of their arse in a tank full of hungry sharks. Tomorrow. On TV. CUNTS!!! ARSE!!! FUCK!!!

Avian Swine Flu Pandemic Berserker.

Swine flu! Fucking swine flu! We’re all going to die! Fuck, let’s all run around like stupid ill-informed fucktards until we drop dead from exhaustion or get murdered by someone sick to their back teeth with our mindless hysteria!

It seems the whole cunting world has lost its shit over the latest style of cold. Last year it was bird flu. Everyone was pissing themselves that bird flu was going to destroy the world. What happened? Fuck all. This year it’s swine flu. At my workplace we all got a patronising fucking email from HR last week telling us all to be vigilant about hygiene in view of the threat of the swine flu pandemic, to use tissues when touching door knobs and never to put our hands near our faces because that’s how germs are spread. Then today I come to work to discover that anti-bacterial handwash dispensers have been installed all over the fucking place. Yes, I’m fucking serious! For cunt’s shitting sake! There’s only been one reported case of swine flu in the whole of Australia and even worldwide the disease, generally speaking, just makes people a bit sick. Naturally the media are going to beat it up into the biggest thing in since sliced bread but anyone with half a brain knows it’s all a pile of horseshit. Add to that, that swine flu is a virus not bacterial so the logic behind installing anti-bacterial goo dispensers becomes even more obscure. 

The people in this building are fucking idiots. Panic over a disease that one person in Australia might have, wash your hands ‘til the skin drops off…but then stuff your obese pie hole with Krispy Kreme and McDonald’s – but it gives me comfort – Fuck yeah, fear the swine flu! Fuck knows, heart disease never killed anyone did it ya fat cunts? You’re gonna die of pig’s arse not pig’s fucking flu. I fucking well despair at the lack of perspective, the blind fear and the wanton stupidity. 

The human race is a blight on the face of the Earth. I watched that tossy remake of The Day The Earth Stood Still last night and I have to side with Klaatu on this…well…before his superior intelligence gave way to emasculated sentimental fuckheadedness and he left the whole planet to be destroyed by people because we’re vulnerable and occasionally nice to each other. What the shit??? 

Fuck everybody, I say! Bring on the swine flu pandemic. May it mutate with avian flu and create a berserker-super-virus that dessimates the human population and leaves us cowed and beaten, fighting for survival against mutant flying pigs. I’d be prepared to die for the cause just so long as a good 5 billion or so useless cretins bite the dust with me. The planet is grotesquely over-populated and the human race is too selfish, infantile and stupid to ever make the necessary decisions to save it. We need an apocalyptic catastrophe to make what remains of humanity consider changing the way they do things. Nothing short of near-annihilation will get the message through, we’re just not smart enough for subtle hints. Stupid fucking monkeys! Survival of the fattest is not sustainable, it never fucking was. Bring on epic Darwinian cruelty! The dinosaurs had their time and we’ve had ours. Hell, if any of us survive we can use the dead as fertilizer and replant the bloody planet! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGHHH!!!

Muti-tasking Or Being A Useless Twat?

Multi-tasking. What the fuck is the modern obsession with doing 50 million things at once? I don’t fucking get it! Yes, life is busy. Yes, the world is moving faster than it did before people had mobile phones, wi-fi internet or the wheel. But, seriously, are you saving time by doing a half-arsed job of a bunch of things? What the cunt are you doing?

 

 

It makes me sick. I’m a singular focus person. I like dedicating myself to a single thing and doing it properly before moving on to the next thing. I’m also a guy and doing more than one thing usually fucks me up. Women seem to be better at multi-tasking and good luck to them. I draw the line at walking while listening to music or watching telly while drinking beer, that’s the limit for me. Whatever! The thing that nauseates me, like a floating turd in my breakfast cereal, is the useless cunts who insist of multi-tasking at the expense of both tasks.

 

 

The attention-deficit FUCKHEADS who try to compose text messages while riding bicycles. These are truly useless people and I want to buy a big car just to run the fuckers over. No clue! No fucking clue where they’re going, what’s around them and I dread to even think about the spelling in their stupid messages. They cunt along at walking pace all over the road like they’re just screaming to the world: KILL ME NOW!!! Oh no, I better answer the message now or my pathetic social life will crumble. Ooh, no but I’d better not stop pedaling or time will stop and I’ll miss my vegan-sexual-philosophy tutorial. DIE!!!

 

 

DECIDE!!! Text OR ride! Not both! You’re not saving time. If you stop, type and send your message, then start riding again, you’ll be riding faster and you won’t give everyone around you the steaming shits by forcing the guilt of manslaughter on them, and the person who gets the message may even understand it. What the fuck is the point in fucking up both tasks? It fills me with boundless fury. They don’t deserve the oxygen they’re wasting on their atrophied brains. They should be legally designated outlets for public indignation and repressed rage. I want to snatch your stupid phone out of your hand and smash it on the road, and when you come back around to ask me in your neo-hippy-passive-aggressive way what my problem is, I want to swipe you off your bike with my cricket bat and smash your chinless body into a greasy paste in the bike lane!

 

 

Multi-tasking is bullshit, except when done by girls…sometimes, and only because they can make it work. Note the word can, they can make it work, and if they do – fine. Anyone who can’t should abstain from it and just learn to fucking well PRIORITISE!!!

http://humor-blogs.com

Winning The War On Bones.

We win! Australia, the little battler, has won – against insurmountable odds we fought hard to be leading the world in obesity! Yeah, We’re the fattest cunts in the world! Fuck you, USA, you can eat our convict shit, we’re fatter than you bastards! 26% of all Aussies are obese, that’s four million of us – a 33% rise in obesity in the last nine years. Fat Aussies have been gorging their pie-holes for the last nine years to top the USA’s puny 25% obesity rate. Yeah, they’ve got more fatties in total, but per capita we have the most cottage-cheese-arsed, cankled, wheezing behemoths of any nation on the planet! 

 

Doesn’t anybody find any of this remotely offensive? I don’t mean my ruthless attack on the fatties, I mean isn’t anyone offended by the rampant epidemic of bloatedness? We see it everywhere. My two bosses, The Wobblers, are both horrendously obese shit-sacks. Many of the people in the building I work in have Office Body*, you only have to walk down the street to realise that most people are packing some weight, thin people are a serious minority. 

 

But we’re all polite about it – everyone knows the pain of the fatty, Oprah’s made us oh-so aware of the torture it is to be fat. No one wants to point out to their friends or co-workers Hey, you’re becoming a bit of a chunk, should you be eating that? Woe betide the heathen who dared say such a hurtful thing. You insensitive bastard, it’s genetic, his whole family is like that. Um…but he’s eaten two pizzas today…are you sure that’s genetic? 

 

You see, I think that’s part of the problem – it’s politically correct to tell people they’re drinking too much, or that they should quit smoking, but we’re in denial about obesity. You mustn’t tell the fatty they’re fat, they might feel bad about themselves and eat more! Yeah, I know, the fuckin’ fat cunt might eat YOU, you’re just scared! For fuck’s sake, tell her from a distance, the fat fuck won’t be able to chase you for long. 

 

Now before all you fatties out there start sending me death threats, I’d like to point out I’m not advocating everyone need have chiseled abs and cheekbones or plastic surgery themselves to look like Paris Hilton, that’s just another disgusting sickness. What I’m saying is: take physical responsibility for yourself. Be a bit healthy.

  

No-one wants to walk down a street and see a piss-pants drunk sitting there boozing himself into oblivion, nor do you want to see junkies shooting up nor sex addicts jerking themselves off in public. Why not? Because it’s offensive. Obese people are killing themselves with food. I find it offensive to see some filthy, fat pig scoffing into a Big Mac. Most people will walk past keeping their revulsion private but everyone finds it unsettling, even if only on a well-trained, unconscious level. It turns my stomach and I can’t understand why it is no longer acceptable to acknowledge that offensiveness. Even the most compassionate soul has to concede that, on a purely pragmatic level, it’s a massive a waste of resources. On a planet with billions of people barely surviving, these fat turds eat enough each day for a whole family, and in a few years time they’re going to be a massive financial burden on an already strained health system. We all will be paying through the nose to save these fatties from themselves. Maybe they need a dose of reality rather than that second Double Quarter Pounder! YOU’RE FUCKIN’ FAT, FATTY!!! FATTY FAT FAT FAT!!! HAVEN’T YOU HAD ENOUGH FOOD, YOU STINKING FAT CUNT??? What? Chase me, fuckface!   

 

 

*Office Body – a phenomenon where, due to a lack of physical activity, chronic over-eating and a diet of shit, a person becomes overweight or obese and most of their muscles wither away except for a few fingers on the hand that operates their computer mouse. See also Internet Body, Playstation Body or Lazy Fat Cunt.

 

Germophobia, stupidity and poo particles.

Germophobia is stupid, like most phobias I guess. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a big fan of hygiene but, fucking hell people, get it in perspective! The world is a dirty place and you yourself, no matter how much you scrub, are dirty. Yes, you, you dirty bastard! You are fucking filthy! Even when you’re clean you’re covered and filled with all manner of bacteria and microbes. So beyond basic cleanliness you might as well just get over it.

 

I had to have a quick slash in a public toilet today and whilst washing my hands I noticed a guy by the door who was pretending to talk on his mobile phone. Actually faking a conversation and occasionally sneaking furtive looks back at me. Weird. Was he there for a sly bummy?  I wasn’t about to ask, I dried my hands and left. He followed me through the door, I mean immediately behind me. I realised the sad fucker just didn’t want to touch the door handle. What a complete ballbag! How long had he been waiting there? Waiting at the door pretending to talk to his fake friends desperately hoping someone would let him out of the toilet.

 

Get a fucking grip! The same germophobic ballbag would touch door handles everywhere else in his life. Door handles, ATMs, shop counters and money that would doubtlessly have been touched by someone who doesn’t wash their hands. Someone with poo on their hands – maybe not big chunks but poo particles, at least. The harsh reality is that there are poo particles everywhere. Everytime someone farts and you smell it  – poo particles – in your lungs! That’s right someone else’s poo in your lungs. Deal with it! Plenty of people don’t wash their hands after going to the loo, fuckin’ bio-terrorists!, whether for a piss, a shit or even a crafty phone-wank. So it may be piss, blood or jizz particles, whatever it’s got germs in it. Everything does, everything you touch, everything you eat, it all has poo in it. Oh for God’s sake, STOP SCREAMING!!! What are you gonna do? Spend your life wrapped in cling film?

 

Before you go completely berko and start spraying everything in sight with anti-bacterial bullshit spray like those maniacs on the ads, here’s another thought: The sprays only kill 99.9% of germs. I’m going to assume most of you have heard of Darwin and his theory of evolution, survival of the fittest and all that. If you kill 99.9% of the germs regularly, what you’re left with is 0.1% of the germs. What do they do? The don’t just hang out in a little corner minding their own business, they breed. Like bastards! They breed and evolve and get nastier because they can’t be killed by your stupid spray. Don’t believe me? Go to hospital, they’ve got the deadliest bugs ever discovered in your local hospital, that’s why the doctors want you to leave. No, it’s not just to free up beds because the health system’s completely fucked, it’s because the longer you’re there, the more chance there is you’ll catch some really bad shit and die.

 

Remember you have an immune system. Its job is to react against threats to your body by surrounding and destroying them. If you insist on circumventing your own immune system like a namby, germophobic nob-end, it won’t work properly when you need it to. So in conclusion, if you want to stay healthy, wash your hands, keep yourself clean but don’t be afraid to eat a bit of poo every now and then, and for fuck’s sake, don’t fake-talk on your mobile in public toilets waiting for some other fucker to open the door for you ‘cause if I see you I’ll fucking sneeze on you – just to make you lose your mind!

 

http://humor-blogs.com/

The Dehumanising Onset Of Sickness.

Ah, I’m getting sick. It’s absolutely fucked. I could feel the lump starting at the back of my throat and putting just the slightest pressure on my right ear-drum this morning. There was just a hint of a sniffle and I just knew that tomorrow I’ll wake up as sick as a bitch, sore throat, snot factory, hot dry eyes and in a cunt of a mood!

 

I don’t suppose I should be surprised, call centres are breeding grounds for disease. The whole place is a fucking bio-hazard and should be bombed to shit. Sniffling, sneezing, coughing mouth-breathers everywhere. Fuck! I’m an obsessive fucking cleanliness freak at work. We have these alcohol wipes for the headsets, I use about five or six at the beginning of every shift. I sterilize the headset, keyboard, mouse, monitor, desk, everything. Who the fuck knows who was here last? And, fuck, let me tell you there are people who work here who you don’t want to share anything with. I don’t even trust the cups in the kitchen at work. Even if they look clean I hold them under the boiling water tap before using them.

 

But despite my best efforts, flu shots included, I’ve caught something. I fucking felt it all day, it’s like a cloud of retardedness has descended on me. Everything is just a little out of phase, I’m just half a step off normal. I rammed my shin into the corner of the bed while I was getting ready for work this morning. I swore like a bastard. Fuck, it hurt. I poured boiling water on my hand at work while sterilising my cup. It fucking hurt too but wasn’t bad, I put it straight under cold water, it probably won’t even blister. Still, I felt like a tool and it was another sign that something was wrong.

 

I finally decided to go home after I sneezed and everything turned green. Not only did I nearly deafen the guy I was on the phone to, I had viscous green mucous all down my face and in my hand. It was fucking revolting. I excused myself from the call and reached my free hand into a pocket searching for tissue…to no avail, there were none to be found. I started to get up and realised that my headset mic was entirely hidden within an enormous gob of phlegm connected by a green umbilicus to my top lip. The nice goth girl sitting next to me actually dry retched.  I am hideous. I went to the loo, with my headset, cleaned up and left for the day. Ah, kill me!

Idiots Enslaved By Technology.

The life of a market research interviewer is tedious at best. Sitting in a booth phoning people and boring them to death with mundane questions about crap they don’t care about. I’m serious, where the fuck do you find people aged 18-34 who don’t use libraries but do want to spend 15 minutes answering questions about why they don’t use them? Genius! Aren’t you glad you pay tax?

I freely acknowledge that my job is stupid, pointless and on occasions invasive but I’m constantly amazed by the psychotic levels of rage it incites in seemingly ordinary people, and for that matter how stupid most people are. I mean, I don’t sell anything, I’m not asking for money, all I want is time. If you don’t have any or if you’re not interested, no worries. Thanks for your time, see ya – I move on. But, no,  people lose their shit. It seems to me that there are a massive number of people who are so disempowered and shat-upon in their regular lives that they need to cut loose at someone, anyone,  and the lowly, anonymous market research interviewer is a perfect target. Most of them are pretty unimaginative:

Fuck off, ya fuckin’ cunt!

That’s cool. Occasionally, I get mildly more imaginative attempts.

You shouldn’t be phoning me, I’m on the witness protection programme.

Yeah, and you tell people that? Smart. But then there are the people who think we’re deliberately targeting them ‘cause they’re oh so important!

Why do you call at dinner time, everyone’s having their dinner, don’t you people know that?

Oh yeah, that’s right, this is the legally designated, universal, unvarying time when the evening meal is consumed, it can’t ever happen at another time and we’re calling you so yours gets cold. Are you stupid? Fuck off and die!

Dontcha know I’m watchin’ the fuckin’ footy?

Of course I do, I can see you on the camera we put in your lounge room, I’m just ringing to fuck with your puny mind! Would you like to buy some DVDs of you shagging your dog?

Then there’s people who go crazy that they have a silent number and I’ve rung them on it, and they don’t even know me. Angry as piss because they pay for something that doesn’t prevent anyone calling them. I’m polite to these people but Jesus they’re ridiculous because, despite their protestations, they don’t actually want to end the call. They want to crap on and on and make me feel guilty for intruding into their lives – never gonna happen! I’d be happy to leave them in peace but they won’t let me, they want to lecture me on being an evil fucker for wasting their lives. Shit, I’m not wasting it, fuckface, it’s a phone – HANG THE FUCKER UP!!!

For fuck’s sake, do you have to answer your phone? If you don’t want to speak to people, don’t, I don’t make you. Just don’t pick it up. Stop being a slave to your technology! Get the fuck over it! And while we’re at it, if you’re angry at your life don’t expect me to give a fat rat’s clacker – hell, I’ve got my own shit to deal with. Pathetic Pavlovian shit-brains – I have absolutely no cunting sympathy! Don’t answer your phone if you don’t wanna talk to people! Don’t respond to the bell like a dog to a whistle! Remember – YOU HAVE FREE WILL. Well, some of us do.

This is the saddest thing. So many people have become completely enslaved by their means of communication. I’ve called people who have answered the phone while fucking. They don’t usually tell me but it’s pretty obvious what’s going on. Then they have the nerve to get mad at me about it. Hey, I’m not the fucktard who answers his phone mid-root. Damn, isn’t that what voicemail’s for? Ooh, but what if it’s important? If it’s important they’ll ring back. People are stupid. The human race is doomed!

Nick D’Arcy – Ambassador For A Nation Of Convicts.

 

Fuckin’ sporto jockstrap boof-head wankers! In this country, they are a priviledged class that sits above the rest of us mere mortals purely because of a genetic predisposition to be good at sport. They get worshipped, pampered and paid exorbitant amounts for playing games. It may be heresy to say in sport-obsessed Australia but what they do is of NO benefit to society. I don’t really care about any of that, what really shits my bed is that the Australian public are happy for athletes to flout the law, behave like reprobates and still be held up in the international sphere as paragons of our society.

 

Nick D’Arcy, the swimmer charged with assault over breaking another athlete’s cheek, jaw and palate when drunk and full of himself, looks as though he’ll still be going to represent Australia at the Beijing Olympics. The AOC and The Court of Arbitration For Sport are tying themselves up in knots trying to find a decent justification for letting him go that won’t make them look like the supporters of criminal violence that they are. I was disgusted to read this piece of apologist bullshit in The Age, desperately trying to illicit sympathy for a man who should be in prison rather than being endorsed as a cultural ambassador of his country.

 

The AOC is obliged to consider the consequences for D’Arcy if he is booted out. Cyclist Jobie Dajka was kicked out of the Athens team in 2004 after lying to a drug inquiry. Three years of depression and alcoholism ensued, and a suspended jail term for an assault on a cycling coach. “I was drinking six litres of wine a day to numb the pain,” Dajka said last month.

 

What the fuck was that? If he’s punished he might become a sad, violent substance abuser? Big fucking deal! He’s already a violent substance abuser, the only difference is he might get sad. What? Don’t most criminals become depressed when punished for their offences? Is that because punishment is not nice? Why is it we don’t feel sorry for ordinary crims? Could it be because the lousy fucks aren’t any good at sport? Yeah, what fucking losers!

 

What the ball-chafing fuck is wrong with this country? It’s Newton’s Third Law, for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Just because sportspeople are too thick to be able to comprehend the consequences of their actions does not mean they should be exempt from those consequences. Yes, people fuck up. But the way people learn to not fuck up is through consequences. If a normal person gets drunk and smashes another person’s skull in a momentary fit of drunken rage, they go to prison. Any average crim would get laughed at if they said, Yeah, sorry I bashed him but can I still go to that sports carnival? The judge would say No, fucktard, you cannot. You can get a jolly good rogering from your cellmate for a couple of years while you learn to control yourself?

 

I’m well aware Nick D’Arcy probably feels pretty bad about what he’s done, as he fuckin’ well should, but I’d wager that most of why he feels bad is because he stands to lose something he cares about. Punishment has no meaning if it doesn’t hurt, so fuck him! 

 

The AOC needs to get its shit together and take a hard line on boof-head Nick D’Arcy. He’s a fucking criminal and, good athlete or not, he shouldn’t represent Australia in Beijing. If he does, we might as well teach our children to fight and tell them that bullying is fine if you’re good at sport. We might as well make certain our kids forget everything in their lives except sport because if you’re good at sport you can bash and rape your way through life with impunity. This is Australia. We’re convicts. Get fucked!!!

Winter – A Time To Share Sickness.

So this is winter. Winter started two days ago and already it feels like there has never been anything else. Miserable bastard cold that soaks into your bones but that you feel guilty whinging about unless you’ve never been to a country where they have a real winter. Melbourne winter sucks, but if you were English and looked at the technical specifications you’d think of it as a rather mild summer. Of course, if you were Canadian you’d just laugh in my face or beat me with an ice hockey stick for even suggesting that we have a winter.

Aside from the bed-inertia that comes over me in winter, I don’t mind it. Except for sickness. Naturally, I don’t like getting sick myself, but other people’s sickness is what is truly detestable, and the beginning of the season it seems everyone gets something. Public transport becomes a disease swap-meet – sniffles, sneezes and coughs all on offer, the freshest and latest bacterial and viral concoctions, some oldies and some newies so resistant to modern treatments you’ll get comments back from the pathology lab doing your blood tests, or maybe even a personal letter from Kofi Annan suggesting you let weapons inspectors into your lungs.

Seriously, what the biologically-terrorising fuck is wrong with people? On the train this morning most of the diseased commuters were politely mopping their sniffles with tissues or covering their mouths to cough, except the middle-aged gentleman opposite me. Sitting there reading a book, not attempting to cover the occasional coughs that burst from him. The first cough surprised me and I realised I was in some danger of infection, but it was just one cough and, hell, maybe it crept up on him, maybe he was just too embarrassed to apologise for it. No. A few minutes later a little double cough, again no reaction. The fucker was doing it deliberately. He just didn’t give a fuck about anyone else. He could turn the pages of his book OK, so his fucking arms worked fine, maybe he was just so pissed of about being ill that he thought he’d take it out on the rest of the train. Maybe his head was so far up his own arse that the idea of other people hadn’t occurred to him at all. It was at this point I realised my circulation was fine, all of a sudden I was warm, even starting to sweat a little.

The third cough came. Again, this selfish fucker did nothing to cover his filthy diseased mouth. Excuse me, I said, would you cover your mouth when you cough please? He stared blankly at me. Did he not understand? You were coughing. Could you cover your mouth when you cough?, I restated. I was pretty happy with my composure, I was Mr Calmly-Assertive and I felt the few commuters aware of our interaction were probably understanding where I was coming from. Still, he met me with a blank stare and then went back to reading.

OK, don’t lose your mind. Maybe he’s got the message. Maybe he feels humiliated to be coached on cold etiquette on public transport and at his age. Let it go.

Again! He fucking coughed again! Didn’t cover it – cunt! HEY!!!, Now I had his attention, and pretty much everyone in the carriage had turned to see what was going on, but there was no way of bringing my tone down to a more intimate level. If you’ve got to cough, cover your fuckin’ mouth! Do you understand me? I’ve asked you nicely, now stop coughing in my fucking face. He was just staring at me. He went to return to his book again. HEY! I’m fucking talking to you! You’re sick. I don’t want your cold, so cover your mouth. Do you fucking understand? DON’T COUGH IN MY FACE! He was well aware that he was in trouble, he knew the game was up, but a nervous cough escaped him and he didn’t raise a hand. That was when I lost my mind. I leapt forward and placing one hand behind him onto the back of his head, I clamped my other hand over his mouth and screamed into his eyes: COVER YOUR FUCKING MOUTH, YOU DISEASED CUNT! PEOPLE HAVE TO LIVE AND WORK, THEY DON’T WANT YOUR FUCKING SICKNESS. COVER YOUR SHITTY MOUTH WHEN YOU COUGH OR STAY THE FUCK HOME! I SEE YOU NOT COVER YOUR MOUTH AGAIN, I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!!!

I had been shaking his head on every syllable. In his eyes was sheer mortal terror. I let him go. Everyone was looking at the madman. That was me. Ooh. I had just threatened a man’s life. On a packed train. Step away from the scared man. Nothing to see here. The train pulled into a station, not mine, I got off anyway. I waited for the next train.

I feel extremely stupid and ashamed, and I’m jumping at every little sound because I’m expecting it to be the police come to cart me away. I’m not a violent person, I’m not a crazed, militant, vigilante type, and I didn’t hurt the man. Despite what you may think from what you read here, I don’t put my hands on people, I’m all talk. I just hate bad manners and I really hope if I ever see the coughing man again that he just doesn’t cough in my face. I don’t think I’d go well in prison.