Scum

I’m not sure why this is playing on my mind so much or why im so angry but I am still simmering under with righteous fury at the present time.

On Friday, at about mid day someone jumped top their death form a multi story car park about 5 minutes from my place. This car park is right opposite the jobcentre, place that would suck the life out of even the brightest person so it is surprising it’s taken this long for someone to off themselves in such a way. I know I’m drawing conclusion there but hey,  I’m pretty sure I’m right.

I found out about this when I got back to town after work. I get along quite well with the woman that works in the delicatessen and I usually pop in there for chat and to bagsy freebies to take home (olives stuffed with jalapeños are the dogs bollocks!). She told me of the suicide and said that the mall security had told her the jumper had landed within a few feet of an old lady who was rushed to hospital for shock. They also said they and the emergency services had to push back the crowds of people that were taking pictures of the scene.

I cannot express enough my contempt for the vultures that did that. How on earth can they find the scene of a sad demise entertaining? Have we, as a society become so bereft of common decency that it’s deemed socially acceptable to whip out your phone and start snapping away? I feel for the person that felt so hopeless that they took the only option they felt they had left. I feel for the old lady that saw that happen right in front of her, a horror that I cant begin to imagine and I also feel fore the first responders, that have to deal with the aftermath and the for those that loved the deceased.

The crowd of people that gaggled at the site of gore? I can’t feel anything for them except contempt and hate. 

More Mercury

He's been gone 21 years now and the world is a much poorer place for it.

Pram Face

Well hello there.

Just recently, within a few days of each other two things of a similar and oh so scary  nature happened to me.

First of all Charlotte, my betrothed called me form France and told me she needed to do a pregnancy test as she was late coming on her period and though I may have put a bun in her oven! I made all sorts of non committal noises whilst suppressing feelings of panic. The test came back negative by the way but it has brought forth a discussion on contraception and what we will do if she does get pregnant.

Then, maybe 3 days or so later I was walking along Chatham High St and I saw an ex girlfriend of mine walking in my direction. This doris is younger than me and we never did have a lasting relationship, it was much more of a fling and to be honest, a lot of really dirty sex. However this girl, as she wended her way towards me was pushing a pram! It’s been maybe a year since I last saw her and so my mind went into overdrive somewhat. When we eventually got to talking it became really obvious the baby wasn’t mine, the chief evidence of this being that the thoroughly adorable baby was of mixed ethnicity. I blew a mental sigh of relief.

This has all played on my mind a bit though. Is it that I don’t think I am ready to be a parent? Is that a stupid notion given that I am advancing in years, bearing down upon 34? When I do eventually become a father, what sort of dad would I be? I suppose these are thoughts that trouble all parents abut for me I am especially nervous given that my parental example is a fuckwit!

(if you were curious I favour the names Ilsa and Eleanor for girls and for boys I like Charlie and Jefferson)

No Title Needed

I don't  know why but this video from Youtube is making me blub like a big sissy.

Freddy Mercury was such a wonderful man and such a great talent and AIDS is such an evil bastard disease.

Congratulations and Jubiliations?

I happen to think that I have done really well with getting in shape; I’ve dropped a ton of weight and look fantastic.

Those that have known me before I started out on this journey (sorry for that wanky term) keep congratulating me for getting to this stage, where I weigh 150lbs less then I did when I started, dropping 14 inches off my waist etc. Now it is obviously always good to hear nice things about you but getting in shape is its own reward really and recently I’ve been asking myself if I should be rewarded for doing this.

I don’t think I should really and neither should anyone else. Its fine to say I look great or remark that I’ve dropped weight but saying well done? No.

Whys that?

Because I wasn’t fucking well supposed to weigh 24 n a bit st! No one is supposed to weigh that much unless they’re 7ft tall! Don’t say well done to someone getting there, they don’t need it. Instead say “well it took you long enough!”

Wow!

A few posts back I moaned about my relationship with my utter fuckwit of a father. I don’t really do pity, much less self pity so I won’t stress the point but if he were to croak tomorrow I wouldn’t cry any tears.

One of the main sticking points twixt Sean and I (I can’t bring myself to call him Dad), is that he had virtually no contact with me when i was growing and I also was aware that he had another child, a daughter who was around 10 years younger then me. I’ve only seen her once and therein lays a tale that shows how sad my ‘connection’ to my family is. I was 13 or so and was waling up the Walworth road in south London with my gran. She stopped to chat to some guy that i didn’t recognise that was pushing a buggy with two babies in it. I had to be told that this man was my dad and one of the girls was my sister. Since then I’ve not seen her at all.

It’s always played on my mind for one reason and another and I have made several unsuccessful attempts to find her. I had all but given up hope of ever seeing her again; after all it had been about 20 years since we had met.

So why am i regaling you with this tale of woe? Two reason really, firstly this is my blog and I can write what the fuck I want to and secondly, on Sunday past, Stephanie inboxed me on Facebook!