Settle For Less

Another rant that pretty much forced me to get up off my arse and try and build some sort of career.



Today finds me the recipient of a slap to the face by reality, rather like being awoken by a blow to the head from a 2 day old salmon left underneath a radiator in that it's unpleasant and leaves a foul aroma in it's aftermath. It would appear that I am doing a job that does not inspire me creatively and is not what I expected to be doing at this stage of my life. Happily (because I'm feeling rather misanthropic today) I'm by no means the only person in this situation. Of course, maybe I'm wrong about that. Maybe there are millions of children in primary schools right now who dream of becoming Telesales executives, or data analysts, or glorified button monkeys for some company or other. I very much doubt it though.

Yet here I am, encouraged from all quarters to settle for mediocrity and banality by doing a job that holds no challenge and gently chided by society should I wish to engage myself as a writer, an actor, or something equally as bohemian (as they see it). I have friends who would like to be actors or singers, vets or psychologists, yet they confess this grudgingly and always with a tone of “not that I ever will, but….”. What the hell is it that makes settling for second or third best second nature to us? I just don't get it at all. I mean Christ, it's not like we're not all packed with potential (with the possible exception of a man named Paul Edgar; he truly is a hopeless waste of time, bless him...) but we're still encouraged to aspire to banality. One can see examples of this in all strata’s of life. In the music world it is incredibly difficult to be successful if you write good music. Obviously taste differs as to what is "good", but pretty much all music lovers can appreciate a well-written song. And yet the route to financial reward is to perform anodyne shite that is about as inspirational as cancer. So whilst musicians with true talent languish in obscurity and poverty, the photogenic and talentless thrive and have done for years. Does anyone have any doubts about that? Okay, then how come Westlife have won Record of the Year for 3 years running? Can anyone actually remember how any of those "great" records went? No? Precisely, and yet this is where our adulation is supposed to be centred; not on genius but on glossy looking "nice young boys" who have the charisma of a religious fundamentalist at an orgy and produce inoffensive and instantly forgettable music.

I've touched on the world of film in the past but I'll restate my case; 90% of what appears on our screens is badly made, poorly acted drivel. Films that are made to be merely diverting end up being at best irritating and cloying, at worst plain offensively bad (step forward all people who had anything to do with making the film "Pearl Harbour"). The one or two exceptions are catapulted to classic status simply by virtue of not being insultingly awful (the Harry Potter film for example is a well made piece of escapism that will not change the world but will keep one entertained for a couple of hours). And yet films that (in my opinion) deserve to be considered as classics in the truest sense of the word (Memento, LA Confidential) are seen by a handful of people and tend to do far better after their cinema release.

And what about more the more commonplace side of things? Supermarkets ensure that, rather than shopping at a butcher's or a grocer's who will provide the very best available as their livelihood depends on it, we buy average (at best) food and if we don't like it then, well, we can go and f*ck ourselves because there are millions more customers who'll keep on buying. Politicians will make lofty promises and break them in exchange for base motives. Do we give a f*ck, or is it just easier for us to allow squalid corrupt little morons gradually corrode our quality of life? The 80's made compassion and interest in public affairs a bad thing, and our current government is quite happy to continue that state of affairs as it repeatedly a*serapes us for all we're worth whilst telling us it's for our own good.

Boy I'm in a mood.

Anyway, there are a few levels on which society glorifies the middle of the road. On an altogether more personal level we're pressured into doing the same. Unless you're lucky enough to be financially comfortable, fiscal pressures such as mortgages, loans etc pretty much make up our mind for us about accepting whichever tawdry and humdrum jobs are on offer. So we chain ourselves to telephone headsets or get nailed to computer keyboards and proceed to gradually, imperceptibly piss our lives and dreams away in exchange for the ability to pay the bills. I know of only 1 person who has had the courage to say "Balls" to the everyday pressures of banality and decided to strike out and follow his dreams. Obviously I can never tell him just how much I admire him for doing this (after all, he's fat and one can't give a fat man idea's above his station...) but all the same, such decisions are rare and should be encouraged.

Not that I'm naive enough to believe that following one's dreams is a sure-fire recipe for success. I'd always wanted to be a family law solicitor and I achieved that goal. Looking back now, I still love the law; I love its simple clean logic and it's analytical mindset yet I still left the profession. And why? Well, probably because I was cast adrift by the man who was supposed to be supervising and guiding me and left to sink or swim in a river of broken marriages, petty criminals, perverts, and paedophiles. When I had the temerity (the sheer *nerve*) to allow despair to overwhelm me, the B*STARDS turned their backs on me. Why was that? Mainly because I tried to be a little more than the blank legal cipher who views each case as a career opportunity and increased cash flow. In trying to be a better solicitor it would appear that I sealed my fate because it would have been easier to drift along and take the money. Once again, banality is plus point.

Now I don't mean to sound arrogant by that last point (aside from anything else I've wanted to get it off my chest for a while...) because I am 100% positive that I am not the only one left unsatisfied by the direction that my working life is going. Nor, judging by the conversations that I've had with my friends, am I the only one shite scared to actually do something about it. It has been written that every man and woman has the potential for greatness but an inclination towards failure. It seems to me that nowadays society does it's best to encourage us to believe that the best we can aspire to is mass-produced facile bullshit. Our media hardly encourages greatness as it shoots down anyone who gets "too big for their boots"; the only one's who get an easy ride (be they actors, musicians, politicians or whatever) are the one's who keep their heads down and don't attract too much attention to themselves. The hackneyed and predictable in other words.

It could just be that I'm being overtly pessimistic today. For all that few people manage to see their hopes come to fruition, perhaps most people accept this without rancour. Or perhaps people just don't think about it. Which is fair I suppose because dwelling on what you may have to look back on as your life's achievements when you're older and finding that they're as insubstantial as air is not how I'd choose to spend my time either. I can't help thinking that we'd all be better off if we actually acted on it rather than ignored it though. Ah well, I can dream I suppose. Now, excuse me whilst I write another mundane report and hammer another mundane nail in my coffin.

Hawks and Doves

This whole piece stemmed from my irritation at those who basically assume that any war waged by the US in any circumstance is inherently unjust. I do still feel that the US was fully justified in it's Afghan war. Shame about the aftermath.


So then; Afghanistan. It's certainly been an interesting week over there hasn't it. I confess that 7 days ago I didn't hold out much hope of seeing any real progress against the Taliban (especially upon hearing Dubya's speech; "My fellow Americans, let's roll!" Coupled with his previous "Osama Bin Laden; wanted dead or alive" spiel his choice of words really does make me think that he believes this is a Hollywood production. Maybe he'd just watched Independence Day again, or maybe Ronnie "Alzheimer" Reagan is writing his speeches. Who knows....). And yet here I am having been proved wrong on pretty much every doomsayer's point that I made prior to the bombing. For once I'm rather glad to have been wrong about something (which is unusual for me but when being proved right would have meant the nuclear destruction of western civilisation...well, I'm willing to swallow my pride in the face of that).

Not everyone has been quite to quick to gorge themselves on humble pie however. Sunday will see a CND organised anti-war march through London, which they claim will garner massive support. A few dissident Labour MP's are still beating their anti-war drums (although not George Galloway. This moustachioed Scots MP, who was awarded 15 minutes of fame for meeting with Saddam Hussein to express his vociferous opposition to sanctions on Iraq, huffed and puffed in Parliament about how and why the British people *demanded* a stop to the bombing. He has been conspicuous by his absence since the fall of Kabul. Maybe he's planning to invite Omar and Bin Laden to his Glasgow constituency in a show of solidarity. One can hope that the people of Glasgow show them the same hospitality that was shown to the refugee who was stabbed to death there a couple of months ago). One MP, Tom Dalyell, having argued strenuously that the war was a very bad thing is now saying that the victory of the Coalition (since when did one country make up a coalition? I think our forces fired a couple of missiles but apart from that it's been USA all the way) will destabilise Pakistan and cause nuclear war. Now I thought I was pessimistic but this man really does win the award for sourest grapes of 2001.

That said, I do think that the hawks in this war are being a little premature in their jubilation. Thus far most of the main cities in Afghanistan are no longer under Taliban control but have reverted to their previous state of affairs. This state of affairs was control by independent warlords or titular allies of the Northern Alliance (of whom more later). Coincidentally, this state of affairs was also conspicuous by it's total lack of law and order, social cohesion, and anything remotely resembling peace. So whilst we do have the undoubted benefits of women being able to walk the streets without their suffocating burqa's and the people of Afghanistan being able to enjoy activities that we take for granted (such as listening to music) or that we don't even indulge in any more (flying kites; yes, the Taliban thought that flying kites was a symbol of decadence. I really would hate to go to one of their parties...) we also have to accept that power has been returned to a group of people who made an utter pigs ear of their last attempt.

And, lest we forget, the fat lady has yet to sing where this war is concerned. The Taliban and Al-Quaida terrorist have taken to the mountains to fight a guerilla war. As any member of the Russian military will tell you, they really are quite remarkably good at that sort of thing. A former soldier in the Hereford based SAS wrote an article for the Guardian explaining at length just why the Taliban would be nigh on invincible in their mountain strongholds, and that allied special forces could look forward to being massacred should they attempt to do battle with the Afghans. However, as the SAS soldier in question has since been exposed as a liar who did nothing more dangerous in Hereford than make the tea it is perhaps difficult to give credit to his assertions. To be sure, the veneer of invulnerability that surrounded the Taliban has been shattered in this last week but I still think that we write them off at our peril. And of course Bin Laden and Omar are still at large (although Mullah Omar Mohammed, supreme spiritual leader of the Taliban, showed himself to have the emotional maturity of a spiteful 11 year old in an interview a couple of days ago. He insisted that he would destroy America using a secret plan that was "beyond human comprehension". Which is rather like little Billy Hague answering "I'm not telling" or "You wouldn't understand" when pressed on how he intended to win the election) and thus still dangerous.

Yet although I'm willing to acknowledge that the war is far from won and that there is still a lot of hard work to be done in establishing a working government in, and eliminating Al Quaida from Afghanistan, to hear the anti war brigade (doves to the political right's hawks) speak you would think that this will only be achieved by wading through rivers of Coalition blood. It's almost as if some of them want to see the war lost simply so they can crow about how they were right, whilst others seek proof of their assertions that western government is corrupt and inept (which it is but this is hardly the most desirable time for it to be demonstrated!) Never mind the fact that this would mean interminable years of further oppression for Afghanistan (strangely, the Taliban's treatment of women was a cause celebre among these same people a few short months ago. After the accusations from the left that the government would readily abandon all of it's principles and ideal's simply to get ahead I find it smugly satisfying to see them doing the same thing...) and never mind that it would definitely mean further atrocities like Sept 11th. Just as long as they aren't shown to have been wrong, that's what's important.

However, let's not allow the political right to claim victory just yet. The Northern Alliance, upon whom so much has depended in this war, were only formed as a group after the Taliban took Kabul in the 90's. Before that they were a disparate bunch of selfish and amoral bandits who fought among themselves with little thought or regard for the people of Afghanistan. All they craved was power. Believe it or not, the Taliban were actually welcomed into Kabul as they promised stability! And now they are running Kabul again. Theoretically there will be a UN peacekeeping force there soon and they will assist in the setting up of a government that will represent all of the ethnic groups there. But the Alliance are already making disquieting noises about such a move being unnecessary as they will restore democracy to Afghanistan. To believe this would be rather like taking Hitler at his word if he were to say that he would restore the synagogues of Germany.

America is shying away from being part of the peacekeeping force which will be made up of troops from Moslem nations, and rightly so as it avoids many accusations of American imperialism. It does however leave them open to the accusations from the left of taking what they want from Afghanistan and then discarding it regardless of what will happen afterwards. Abraham Lincoln made a famous quote about fooling some of the people all of the time, and all of the people some of the time. I think it applies equally well to pleasing the political right and left about this war; the west can please most of the hawks some of the time, and none of the doves all of the time. Let's just hope that this really is a war to end all wars, if for no other reason than the blinkered refusal by some of the doves to accept that mankind hasn't evolved sufficiently to consign conflict and warfare to history. This refusal to accept reality means that in the future the west will be hamstrung by the wrenching of hearts before an inaccurate bomb is dropped in anger.

F.E.A.R.

I still don't fully understand why so many of us live our lives beholden to one sort of fear or another.




I'm writing today because it has struck me that the vast majority of us live our lives in fear and I find this rather strange. I'm not talking about the kind of pant-wetting fear that leaves one a meek and quivering wreck with heart palpitations that would be more suited to a field mouse than a human being (I'm sure you know the feeling; I last experienced it when I was about 12 and some Neanderthal in a scruffy school uniform decided that what I really needed was to have face moved about 3 inches across my skull via the means of a sustained beating). I'm talking about the low-grade fear that seems to permeate everybody’s life but is so commonplace that we don't even think about it any more.

Let me give you an example; I'm an intelligent person. I'm not being any more arrogant than usual by saying that. However, I'm also very verbose and florid when I speak and that can give the impression that I know more than I actually do. Anyway to cut a long story short, I've been told that many of my work colleagues and casual acquaintances are scared of me. And the reason for this? Well it would appear that they are scared that I will think that they are stupid, and so they will not talk to me or around me as much or as freely as normal.

I find this rather strange. Arrogant I may be, but I'm not so full of myself to think that my opinion matters a damn to most people, so why do certain of my friends feel this way? I'm sure I'm not the only person to have ever experienced this; being a university graduate is an excellent way of putting some non-graduates on the defensive. Being an Oxbridge graduate is a superb way of making non-Oxbridge types feel that they have to prove their intelligence (in fact, now that I come to think of it, I'm guilty of that myself). There can't be much doubt that a lot of us seem to have a fear of appearing stupid in some way, but for the life of me I can't figure out why this should be. Is it a childhood thing; do we all still worry about being laughed at by the rest of the class? Or is it a self-esteem issue; we're so riddled with neurosis that we feel that if we know less than another person then we are inferior to them?

Now clearly my perspective on this comes from my own experience, but I'm 100% sure that this isn't the only area of our life that generates hot, dull fear for us. Physical appearance is yet another. I used to have hair of a fairly normal length and so I went about my day generally unnoticed by passing strangers. Then, in a fit of drunken bravado, I shaved my hair off. The very next morning as I was walking to the shops an old lady looked up, saw me approaching, and with a few fearful glances back at me, crossed the street to avoid me. In contrast to that, many moons ago I had *very* long hair. This earned me tuts of disapproval from my parents and their peers, as well as a few beatings from some quite charming gentlemen who, apparently, didn't like "hippies".

The reactions that I've described should be familiar to all of us. Who among us has not felt one's heart race when walking alone and noticing a man who is either big, shaven headed, ferocious looking etc? And yet despite the Daily Mail's attempts to convince us otherwise, random beatings are an incredibly rare occurrence. I personally haven't been hit by or fought with anybody since school, but I still find myself a little nervous if I'm in the situation I just described. I suppose the reason for the fear we may feel because of people of a certain appearance is easier to explain than our fear of looking stupid. It's not difficult to think of book, film, or TV examples of the bad guys being big, shaven headed thugs, and so the stereotype is reinforced endlessly and we all continue to feel fear about people we don't even know for no other reason than their appearance. (For the record, I'm growing my hair again; I'm getting sick of being looked at like a violent thug who is searching for his next victim).

The final example of this fear is a one that I personally have no experience of. Women mainly experience it but it is by no means exclusive to them. It is particularly prevalent when gaggles of women are on a night out. I'm referring of course to how threatened many women feel by another woman whom they perceive as more attractive than them. Lest you be in any doubt, watch the look on a lady's face as an attractive women glides past her. Believe me, sometimes I've seen hatred in their eyes! As a further example of this, a friend of mine was talking about an old schoolmate of his. She was rather good looking, to the extent that she is now a part-time model and is in a relationship with a fitness instructor (and also part-time model). And the reaction of on of the women who was listening? "Bitch!".

Now I don't mean to belittle anyone here (after all, of the three types of daily fear that I've described, this one is by far and away the funniest...) but aren't we all being a little...well, insecure about ourselves? Why can't we be happy with the way we look, or the way we think? Why do people feel the need to be the cleverest and best-looking person out of everybody? Is it because we are striving to better ourselves, or trying to pull others down to our level? It's food for thought anyway.

One Night Stand

I missed out the obvious criticism of One Night Stands; the sex tends to be shit.




Can anybody really be bothered to read about or talk about yesterday's events in NYC or Kabul? I find myself weary at the prospect to be honest. Reaction to the NYC crash; it's been done before. Plane crashes are just soooooooo last month sweetie, and this one didn't add anything to the horror of Sept 11th (remember my rant way back about compassion fatigue due to excessive TV coverage? I think I'm falling victim to it and I'll bet I'm not the only one). And the "war" in Afghanistan seems to be being fought in the good old colonial fashion ("I say old boy, did you see that? Them there friendly sand niggers just got blasted to pieces by those bad-guy towel heads" "Good lord! So they did. Jenkins, make a note; bomb that bit of rock there until it's a smouldering hole in the ground. Oh, and Jenkins? Could you send a few more messages of support to our sand niggers please? They're doing *such* a good job of finding the enemy positions for us...").

So no, much as I'm sure you don't have any desire to read about current affairs, I have little real desire to write about them. No, I think it's perhaps time for another in the ongoing series of "an exceedingly bitter young man tries to talk in a reasoned an objective manner about love and relationships."

One night stands. They're a hoot aren't they? Every Saturday and Sunday morning millions of people across the world will wake up with somebody whom they'd never slept with before and never will again. Opinion on whether this is a good or bad thing seems to be fairly evenly divided, though I don't think that I'm entirely wide of the mark when I say that the majority of men publicly state that they are great whilst the majority of women put it on record that they think one night stands are a bad thing. Are both sides being entirely truthful when they say this? The fact that one night stands (ONS as I'm going to refer to them from now as I'm, in essence, a lazy git) continue to occur would seem to either make a lie of the accepted female wisdom or provide a testament to the to the ingeniousness of the male half of the species in their never-ending quest to get laid. So which is it?

Once again, I'll declare my vested interests from the start. I'm pretty much an amateur when it comes to one night stands (despite all of my best efforts...) and so much of what I'm going to write is taken from the experiences of my friends, so the names will be changed to protect the innocent. However I will put it on record that I, like the large majority of men in the world, think that one night stands are generally a good thing. In my own experience I've had fun, I can kid myself that the good lady in question did too, and I generally find that I have remained on good terms with them afterwards (working I suppose on the theory that if you've seen each other naked then you need not have any further inhibitions when talking to one another...).

So then, what's the deal with ONS? They must make up something like 60% of worldwide sexual encounters every weekend (of the remainder, 38% is fulfilled by couples just starting out on a relationship, 1.8% by married couples or those in long term relationships, and .2% by lonely farmers with a nervous looking ewe) but they generally don't get a good press at all. The image that tends to be put forward is of leering lads discussing the previous night's merriment in the most graphic terms whilst a thoroughly shamed woman has to come to terms with cheapening herself for a moment of pleasure. This is, of course, total bollocks. It is an image that probably owes it's origin to the Victorian/Christian attitude to sex; that it's dirty (sex can of course be dirty. But only if you do it right.). As I'm sure many women would agree, it is just as likely that we will find the ladies being raucous and lewd whilst being encouraged by their friends in their dissection of a particular ONS. Woe betide the man who receives unfavourable press from such a lady for he will find himself a figure of fun in their social group for the months and years to come. So it's not as if the whole affair is arranged in favour of the man. Women get something out of it too. Yet what could that be?

Well I think I may have an answer to that one. It's an answer that will no doubt cause consternation and uproar among the patriarchal mindset of the prudish, the morally upstanding, and the hypocritical. It is simply this; women enjoy sex just as much as men. Now that I've made that revelation, and now that the whole world hasn't in fact come to an end, and seeing as how the whole moral fibre of society hasn't crumbled shall we continue?

In the minds of rational people, sex is no longer about just procreation. In the minds of modern people, sex isn't necessarily about love. In the minds of most people of my age, sex is about fun. Enjoying oneself. Having a bloody good time in the company of one or more willing people and returning the favour. People who were my age during the 50's tend to labour under the illusion that sex used to be altogether more sacred and was about love and companionship. What utter toss! People still had casual sex but the only difference was that they were labelled with imaginative names (the words "Slag", "Slut" and all associated terms enjoyed a veritable renaissance during the 50's. Love and compassion indeed...) and they had to be discreet about it. Nowadays we no longer feel the need to put single mothers in asylums or hound teenagers out of the neighbourhood for having sex before marriage. I am saying that that is an advance.

One thing that I would say against ONS is the method by which they normally happen. As I've already alluded to, most ONS take place on Friday and/or Saturday night. It doesn't take a genius to work out why. Getting stunningly drunk is an excellent way of ensuring that you'll wake up next to someone who will be as pleased or horrified as yourself to find themselves there. We do this because we are packed to the brim with inhibitions and hang-ups, and alcohol temporarily banishes them. You'd think I'd be all in favour of anything that causes more sex in the world, but I'm not entirely pleased that we need alcohol to achieve this. It seems to me that one of the main reasons we have such inhibitions is the legacy of the times when religious groups held sway over our lives. As in Orwell's 1984, they sought to control every aspect of our lives. In 1984 this was done by the creation of the "Anti Sex League" which encouraged artificial insemination as a means of procreation. Religion, not having access to such technology, went for the tried and tested route of Guilt. We were made to feel guilty about our urges and told that they should be limited to marriage (thus ignoring the fact that marriage is one of the finest contraceptives ever invented...). It's only in the last 10 or 20 years that this assertion has been properly challenged, and we are by no means completely free of it's influence, which is why many ONS take place whilst under the influence of no less than about 4 pints of lager. The other reason I don't like the idea of getting drunk to facilitate getting laid is that I'm a man. Do I really have to spell out what can happen (or, more accurately, can't happen) to a man when he's drunk? No? Good.

I suspect that one of the main reasons that ONS get such a bad press is because when the alcohol wears off, inhibitions return. I'm sure that you recall the simple joy of feeling incredibly awkward whilst lying in bed next to a stranger/work colleague/friend. We tend to deal with this in a simple way; by not having any contact whatsoever with that other person for weeks afterwards. This naturally leads to bad feeling and resentment, so if one were to want to stay on good terms with their erstwhile bedroom partner then one would have to swallow one's pride and apologise for one's behaviour. As pride is harder to swallow than spunk (erm...so I've been told) this is not very likely to happen in the majority of cases. As it is generally women who take snubs and perceived insults to heart a lot more than men, is this why so many women proclaim their distaste for ONS? As men are thicker skinned about such things, could it be that we only ever remember the ONS itself and mentally censor any recriminations that follow? It's as good an explanation as any.

World Conflict Day

I still say we should rename Guy Fawkes Night to World Conflict Day, and make it a global event.




Okay, I'll make a promise from the outset; I'll not mention anything about Afghanistan, the Taliban, the Northern Alliance, bombing, or indeed anything about the whole mess over there at all. Apart from just there obviously. One thing I will say about it is, where the hell has Dubya been hiding? He's managed to hove into view again briefly (apparently he and Blair shared a "Kodak Moment" yesterday; can I really be the only person who finds their "special" relationship suspiciously homo-erotic?) but before yesterday I hadn't heard a peep from him in weeks! What in God's name has he been up to? There are a few possibilities; he did say that he was going to do whatever it took to defeat terrorism, so maybe his Chiefs of Staff realised that it would take him shutting up and not interfering? Or, as he took more time off in his first 6 months of office than any other President in history, maybe he was just working on getting his golf handicap down (hell, maybe that's the sole reason for his anguish at the WTC tragedy in the first place; as he watched the planes smashing into the twin towers he knew, just knew, that this was a new age and that nothing would be the same again. Now, more than ever before, the country that he had solemnly sworn to serve needed a leader who can guarantee scoring at least 3 under par during a crisis...)

Anyway we in England had our annual opportunity to experience what living in a war zone is like; Guy Fawkes Night. We too got to enjoy 6 hours of explosions in the background. There were fireworks that looked for all the world like the tracer fire of anti-aircraft weapons. And, just like in Israel and Northern Ireland, we also had morons with only the vaguest idea of how to use the explosives that they carried being guided round the streets by their desire to see somebody getting hurt. Whilst my brother and I pondered the irony of celebrating Bonfire Night during the current war it occurred to us; instead of having the 5th of November as a celebration of the smashing of the Catholic plot to blow up Parliament (thus limiting it to the UK) why don't we redesignate it "World Conflict and Terrorism Day"?
After all, the conspirators were religious fanatics (so were some of their targets but that is by the by...) who wanted to commit a terrorist action that, had it succeeded, would have been the WTC attack of the 17th century. If we extend this celebration around the world, then we can all experience what it is like to live under bombardment in, for example, the Lebanon or Iraq. I suppose we could make it even better by getting the nations that normally pound the shit out of each other to not kill each other for that day. Instead they can pile up dummies dressed in the ethnic costume of their choice into a large pyre and enjoy the same quasi-pagan fun that we in the UK do. The Guy can be the current hate figure of that particular nation, so American Bonfires would have Osama Bin Laden and Israeli's would perch Yasser Arafat atop theirs. This would also help stop the accusations that November 5th is an anti Catholic festival because the Guy wouldn't necessarily be the ubiquitous Mr Fawkes. Speaking personally, I'm more than happy to dispel the accusations altogether. Next November I intend to take a trip to Northern Ireland and set light to Rev. Ian Paisley. If you think about it the fat bigoted piece of shit has done more for world conflict than poor old Guy, so why not?
It seems that I'm not the only one who has world conflict on his mind. I understand that Prince Charles was attacked in Latvia by an anti war protester. If we ignore for a second the fact that attacks by anti war protesters are right up there with Pro-Life supporters murdering doctors in terms of irony, should we perhaps be concerned that the heir to the throne was put in a situation where he could be assaulted? No. No we shouldn't. And why? Because the "attack" consisted of his being slapped in the face with a bunch of flowers being wielded by a (rather good looking actually...) Latvian woman.
What is it about Prince Charles that leads to him being singled out by the surrealist movement for special attention? When he was in Australia someone tried to shoot him...with a starting pistol! Now he's in Latvia being attacked by a flora-bearing redhead who thinks that she's making a powerful international statement whereas in fact she's doing nothing more worthy than make me think "Hmm, I wonder if they're all as good looking as that in Latvia? Maybe I'll check out flight prices..." which probably wasn't her intention. If only all would be assassins were of this mindset then the world would be a much better place. If you think about it then it is highly unlikely that World War 1 would have broken out if Gavrilo Princep had tried to assassinate Archduke Ferdinand by throwing a telephone in the shape of a lobster at him. And I daresay that we'd be a lot better disposed toward Mr Bin Laden if his acolytes had contented themselves with trying to melt clock faces over the World Trade Centre.
I'm actually rather ambivalent about his heir-to-the-throne status as well. I mean, he seems like a nice chap and all, but wouldn't it be much better if we could elect our next King or Queen? They'd get the job for life obviously and they would have to be our nations representative, the person who encapsulates what it means to be British. I've already got a list of candidates; Sven Goran-Eriksson would be the obvious choice, and perhaps with him as our head of state we could look forward to a more relaxed way of life involving lots more public nudity. Jim Davidson would be another possibility, as his election would almost certainly lead to him declaring war on France, which can only be a good thing. We could even go for Thatcher as most Americans think that she's the Queen anyway. But my personal choice would have to be tourettes syndrome hero Joey Deacon, star of "John's not Mad" and a particularly brilliant edition of Blue Peter when I was about 5. The idea of the next meeting of the Commonwealth heads of state being punctuated by occasional outbursts of "Fucking wanker" and "Pissflaps" is a beautiful thing and I hope that one day my vision will become reality.
I do find it a little strange that we still have archaic methods of choosing leaders or people of importance now that we're in the 21st century. There are Royal families all over the world that rely on primogeniture (the custom of everything being inherited by the eldest son; yes, I did have to look it up). Even the Pope is chosen by a ballot of the Cardinals although I still think that the job should be advertised in the normal way, and I've already got my CV written and ready to send as soon as old John Paul number 2 finally shuffles off this mortal coil. I happen to think that I'd be able to bring a lot to the job of Pope and I hope that I'll at least get through to the interview stage. Admittedly I'm only doing it because I think it would be a good way to pick up women ("Hey girls. Got any Catholic in you? D'you want some?") but hey, Jesus did preach love so I suppose I could justify myself on those grounds. Regardless of that, I'm serious when I say I'm going to apply for the job and, as the current incumbent isn't long for this world, I should get a chance to do it soon. I figure that if the Bishop of Newcastle was polite enough to respond to my ranting then the Vatican are bound to give me some sort of response. And when they do you'll be the first to read it.

This is the End

Like all men, I really am a rather stunningly maudlin little shit when dumped.




Relationships are funny things really aren't they? Without ever quite meaning to, we hand over the key to our heart to somebody whom, for all we know, could be some sort of mentally deranged fool with a pathological need for companionship. We're also (as I've belatedly discovered) saying to someone "Hello. I'd like to make an emotional investment in you that may well end in disappointment and leave me feeling crushed". All very odd when put in those terms, but of course no-one in their right mind thinks that way at the onset of their journey together. They rightly think only of good times together and being happy ever after. Fair enough for all the millions of people for whom everything works out. If you are one of those people then this rant is really not for you. Having examined why we are so phenomenally bad at starting relationships in the first place, I thought it might be a good idea to look at why we are so spectacularly awful at ending them.

As this is mainly going to be drawn from my own experiences as well as general observations on the (many) relationships that my friends have either enjoyed or endured, you may not find yourself entirely agreeing with everything that I'm about to say. Part of me wishes to say "Tough shit", but as it is my stated desire to continue to learn then I welcome any corrections to my thinking that you may wish to suggest. I'll almost certainly ignore them of course, but it's the thought that counts...

It seems to me that at the last spluttering gasps of a relationship there are 3 main stages involved for one or both parties; denial, acceptance, and then moving on. It strikes me that of all of these, the final stage is the one most heavily imbued with sadness due to the fact that one is letting go of what may have been a large part of their lives for an awful long time, but I'm getting ahead of myself (and the last person who did that still has difficulty sitting...) so I shall start at the beginning. Or the end as it were.

Now then, the process of denial can take many forms but it seems to split down the middle into two distinct categories which, generally speaking, can be divided fairly evenly. There are those who try to block out the fact that the relationship is over, and there are those who try to blot out the fact that the relationship ever happened in the first place. The former camp tends to be the sole reserve of people with a problem keeping a firm grip on reality. After all, if one has just been compared (unfavourably) to a festering boil on the arse of Anne Widdecombe by ones partner and has been told repeatedly to just bugger off and leave them alone, then it would seem pretty cut and dried as to whether the relationship is at an end. Not to these plucky (not to say, delusional) men and women. I don't know if you're familiar with the evocative Geordie phrase "I'd crawl through broken glass to stick matches in her shit". Well, I am willing to bet my life that it was coined by a man in this particular stage of relationship death. That phrase pretty much evokes exactly how pitiful the person who can't accept that a relationship has ended is. Despite all evidence to the contrary, they will insist that there is still a chance, however slim, that "we can work it out".

Of course, due to the immensely complicated laws of relationships, ones friends are pretty much forbidden to point this out. Their role is limited to providing support, compassion, and wishing like hell that their friend would hurry up and make the return trip to the real world. Should one of these friends pluck up the courage (or just get sick to death of the insipid whining about how "I'm certain that he/she'll see sense and want me back!") to tell them that it is over, they can look forward to one of two reactions; being ignored (rather like the fast show sketch where the woman talks and the men don't hear her) or being the recipient of some quite spectacularly bile imbued anger that has been building up for weeks (and cannot possibly be directed at ones former partner because after all, that would mean that they'd *never* take you back...). I estimate that something like 40% of friendships probably end during this phase of life so one can double one's fun by losing one's partner and one's friends in one fell swoop. If someone you know is behaving erratically (well...more erratically than usually anyway) and is generally no fun whatsoever to be with, then chance are you know someone engulfed in this particular form of denial.

The second category, although no less delusional, is that of "It was never really a proper relationship anyway". This is generally reserved for the shorter relationships (though not always; I know of one person who's husband wants their marriage annulled rather than a divorce because that way he can pretend it never happened. And I thought I was good at detaching myself from reality...) and in general is a lot easier on everybody than the above form of denial. All this seems to entail is devaluing the time that you did spend together so that one can put up a barrier in order to protect oneself from the pain of one's loss (by the way, can we take the fact that one will feel gut-wrenching, panic inducing anguish at the end of a relationship as given? That way I don't have to harp on about it, as I'm sure you're quite aware of what it feels like). Not surprisingly, this method of denial is a favourite of men the world over. There are probably undiscovered tribes in the Brazilian rainforest that follow this particular custom. Depending on what the relationship actually meant to you (i.e. whether you really did like them or not, something that you usually only discover once you don't have them any more) then this is either a fantastic method of letting oneself down gently and ensuring that one doesn't have too much emotional baggage upon starting a new relationship, or it is a quite remarkable method of storing up trouble for later on. Generally this trouble only emerges when one sees one's former partner being blissfully happy with someone who is not you. Lord knows how many hundreds of nights out have ended in tear-sodden violence thanks to this particular baby. And let's not even get into the situation where one partner is in the former stage of denial and the other is in the latter. Mm-mm, what fun and games that can lead to...

But it's not all horrendous doom and gloom. No, not a bit of it. Once one has traversed the borderline whirlpool madness that can be denial, one can then begin to sail into the choppy waters of acceptance. Again, I should say that I'm biased here; having spent the last year in denial I'm now making my first forays into acceptance. And what a truly marvelous feeling it is. When one is in denial one is constantly under an oppressive weight, sort of like walking round carrying a damp St. Bernard on ones back. When one accepts that it is all over, the weight is lifted almost completely. You are free to feel joy, or sadness, or indifference about something and you can feel it *without reference to how you would have felt about your former partner!* Oh, what an absolute relief it is! It's almost like being reborn (although thankfully one doesn't feel the urge to dedicate one's life to Jesus/Mohammed/David Icke; well, not unless you had a *really* tough time in denial...) Every new experience becomes just that; totally new. Having fun becomes one's driving (nay, only) motivation. One can start new relationships or friendships unencumbered by the past. Perhaps it's just the time of year, but the image that comes to mind is emerging from a dark cave into a myriad sky of fireworks, a cornucopia of colour, an infinite variety of new delight. Of course, sometimes the fireworks burn out and one can get burnt quite badly. After all, I mentioned that one is almost reborn and really feels new experiences; the problem with this is that although one experiences unfettered joy during this period in ones life, one can also feel adversely affected by things that one would previously have brushed aside.

It's because of that emotional rawness that people in this stage of relationship death tend to go absolutely fucking crazy for a while. By which I mean, they become incapable of not going out and partying until their lungs bleed. They want to have fun all of the time and at all costs. To do otherwise would leave one open to experience more pain, and we had quite enough of that going through denial thank you very much indeed. Different people do it in different ways of course; some develop new hobbies and pursue them to levels of quite breathtaking sadness, others indulge in Herculean bouts of shagging with anything that has a pulse, still others take the brave step of tentatively pursuing a new relationship. None of these courses of action are particularly bad, and from what I have seen no one method is clearly better than another when it comes to acceptance. Horses for courses I suppose. What I would say is that none of them really mean anything until one is able to move on.

By moving on I mean dealing with the months/years that you spent with your former partner. I said earlier that I think this is the saddest and most melancholy of all the stages of relationship death and I stand by that. You are admitting that many of your old dreams are over and that a lot of your former goals and expectations in life have irrevocably altered. That is not to say that it means one shuts the former lover out of one's life altogether. I have seen people in that situation remain friends, perhaps with a better and stronger friendship than they can ever have with anybody else. I've seen them be apart for a few years and end up back together. Of course, I've also seen them rent apart with bitterness and anger that it all went wrong. Moving on doesn't necessarily mean peace for one's soul, it might just mean an end to open hostilities. I suppose one simply has to hope that one will come out of whatever relationship they've been in relatively unscathed and hoping that, if nothing else, they'll have learned something.