It could be concluded from some of the previous Simon’s that I am an abrupt fascist, who bases hate filled judgements on empty stereotypes, showering fat strands of contempt on anyone and anything that rears it’s head at the wrong moment, whilst contributing nothing of any lasting worth. This is true. I am filling a niche. How often these days do you meet people who are happy to offer an unreserved opinion on a subject? Being outspoken used to be a laudable trait. Now it seems that the easiest path through life is the one to be taken, the path crowded with hand-wringers, dress wearers and people who work in “retail”.
It was hard for Gallileo to turn round to his peers and countrymen, the whole world in fact, and say “ Look, we’ve fucked it up…WE actually go round the SUN.” Anyone would accept that that was an exceptionally hard and courageous thing to do. And so it was with the man who discovered that the world wasn’t flat. Michael Spunkiss or whatever his name was. How these men ever hoped to turn the whole world of knowledge on it’s head, or why they would even want to in the face of isolation, torture and death, is a mystery to me. But their bravery is second only to the bravery of those men who stood there, listening to the irrefutable evidence placed before them, and then said “No. Take him away and chop off his teeth and stick them up his arse. Then fire him into the murky lake of traitorous intellectual concepts.” Or something similar. Because having new ideas is easy. Millions of common old garden plebeians have millions of ideas every day. In Gallileo’s case and Spunkiss’ case they turned out to be right. But if we just accepted everything we were told because of “proof” and “evidence” we would be awash with the countless products of generations of mental defecation. The men who put them to death had doubts, but they were safeguarding their generation, and if a few men had to be sacrificed in order to create a stable society of intellectual consistency, then is that wrong?
No. No, it isn’t. I pour the hatred of my frustration and inadequacy out on people I’ve never met. On the people who walk past without a second glance, on the birds and the bee’s, the flowers and the trees. This rage and aggression if utilised in any other way would be pure spite, but I am turning it to good. I am the tidal barrier against which new thoughts and attitudes must crash. I am like a spider eating flies, the dark side of the force in Luke Skywalker or open-heart surgery. I am the lesser of two evils. And it would be worth remembering that anything I say that offends you could easily be much more offensive.
So, here we go. Football is for mindless, inadequate piss-monkeys. People who bought Merrils shoes should be hung from trees with signs around their bloated necks saying “Twat”. Fat people should be ridden by the thin, like taxi’s. Piglets should be genetically engineered in such a way that they can be born in a string formation (like sausages). Gay people should stop buying such terrible music. Straight people should stop buying such terrible clothes. Young people should stop shouting at each other all the fucking time the deaf fucking bastards. And Moseley should be bombed to the ground because it’s like the come-stained saggy arsehole of this O.A.P rent boy of a planet.
(Simon will not be updating this columnfor a while A book of his self help essays entitled “Sucking For Success” is available from the Eye On Moseley retail store behind Moneywise.)