The End

"Does anybody else in here feel the way I do?"

So wrote Roger Waters on "Vera" his paean to Vera Lynn from The Wall. What's the relevance I hear you ask? What is this post about?

Well, it's about the end of the world. So, nothing trivial then?

I guess that today is one of those days, after one of those weeks, after one of those months, after one of those years where you finally sit down and think "What the fuck is going on?" . It just seems to be one huge tidal wave of bad news doesn't it? Open any paper, tune in to any radio station or watch any TV news bulletin and it's a conveyor belt of nothing but turgid, depressing doom and gloom. Go, tell me when was the last time a news item made you smile? When was the last time you really sat down and heard something, or read something that made your heart sing, made you want to fly, to laugh and shout with joy.

Thought so. It's been a fucking long time hasn't it?

You see good news doesn't sell, it doesn't grip people. Even the most irritating optimists and "glass half full" people mask their own morbid fascination with doom and gloom from around the world. To escape this you'd have to be 5 years old again, when everything was innocent and life was about play and learning, toys and sweets, friendship and important subjects like how old was this new friend you've just met and will Mum do chips tonight as a treat?

I looked around today and what did I see?

Share prices falling because some spineless rich cunts in the City couldn't give a shit and can't stand up to their clients. Why should they give a fuck if their annual bonus drops from £3million to £2 million? Stripey shirted cunts, the lot of them.

House prices dropping because the Bank of England put the rates up in order to "cool" the market, but now listen to the bankers (sic) whinge when what they asked for happens.

Flood warnings across the country, no doubt all due to me driving my car to work and heating my water for a shower.

Retail stores reporting sales drops because...well fuck me sideways.....quelle suprise.....the interest rates went up and people decided a roof over their head was more important than a present filled Christmas.

A looming banking crisis because another bunch of stripey shirted cunts didn't understand the meaning of the word "risk" when they were dishing out money. Apparently it never occurred to them to look at what the US banks were doing in risky markets before lending them money or borrowing it.

Political correctness increasing it's stranglehold on our society.

Out of control mindless and meaningless crimes reaping havoc on our streets and causing us to live in fear.

So called celebrities and "talent" pissing, coking, drugging their way to oblivion but not short of a bob or two. I know they've always done it, but at least our generations had the decency to do it off camera. Amy Winehouse is a stupid fucking emaciated gormless bitch. fuck her, and fuck Pete Doherty and all the other useless bastards wasting a gift most of us would love and cherish.

A Government beset by incompetence, negligence and Big Brother attitude, reneging on pay deals and generally shitting on people from high. Go on, name me one thing Gordon Brown and his government has done that's better than Blairs. Exactly. he's made Tony Blair look like a fucking genius in the same way George Bush made Clinton look like a member of The Peace Movement!

I could go on, but it's just so fucking depressing. I am starting to think this is all leading to the sighting of the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse and a personal visit for us all from the Grim Reaper.

And of course, we, the working people are to blame for all of this. We are a rabble rousing, lieing, cheating, greedy, self centred, pollution creating, drug taking, hard drinking, bunch of selfish bastards all on the make. One minute they want to stop us spending money, the next everything's our fault because we're not spending enough money.

Damned if we do, Damned if we don't. It's all gone to pot, and we're to blame.

Now, when can we start this revolution?

Later, Grocerjack