Johnstones everywhere

Having paid very little attention to my Scottish ancestry up until now, my nan (from whom my apparent Scottishness comes) informed me that me, my brother and my half Nigerian sister have been officially registered and accepted into Clan Moffatt (and all the spelling variations that come with that name). Since then, I’ve decided to embrace my Scottish heritage and live like a true Scotsman. I have therefore become unnecessarily nationalistic, extolling the virtues of a small part of a tiny, impotent kingdom that sold itself out to the English because of failed colonial efforts. After the travesty that was Brexit, I’m now heavily campaigning for another Scottish independence referendum. I think it’s high time we Scots regained our sovereignty. Regardless of what Brexiteers think about the necessity of a United Kingdom. They say it’s even more important now that we’ve voted to leave Europe in order to regain their sovereignty.

In learning more about my clan and the Scottish blood that courses through my veins, I learned that for many generations, we had a feud with Clan Johnstone. Since then, I have been keeping an eye out for any possible Johnstones. I’ve discovered there everywhere. Not necessarily bearing the name Johnstone, but like Scottishness, it’s something that goes beyond blood. Anyone can be a Johnstone. This guy for instance. He’s a proper Johnstone.

Johnstones represent everything that is wrong with society today. They exist on both sides of the current pollical chasm, through which a river of shit runs. Johnstones make up the reactionary right, spewing bile and hatred. They are bloated bigots supping from frothing tankards of privilege.

Johnstones make up the fascist left, using language and the notion of offence as a means to control. They are identity-obsessed and feel if they shout loud enough they can get their way, no matter who stands in their way. These whining weasels dine on smashed avocado on toast, buttered with privilege.

Johnstones are the sick fuckos who burn effigies of Grenfell tower whilst laughing gleefully. They are also the twats who write articles demanding they be tried for hate crimes rather than just calling them sick fuckos and moving on with their lives. Unfortunately, you can’t make being a tasteless piece of shit a crime – prisons are too crowded as it is.

Johnstones infect every layer of society. They are the loud, swaggering types drunk on cheap lager in a children’s park. They are the self-entitled middle-class mothers whining that their mocha is not mocharey enough. They are the disenfranchised youths that walk the streets with knives and lament the lack of opportunity, despite the fact that education is free (up to a point) and there are numerous initiatives trying to provide more. They are the conservative politicians who disregard these youths without a second’s thought, despite the fact that they might have a point (might, still no excuse to stab someone; being pushed to sidelines to be forgotten is no excuse for being a cunt).

I don’t know you, but I’m fairly certain you’re a Johnstone. Even I’m a Johnstone, and I’m a Moffatt, who hate Johnstones.

Deep down, we’re probably all Johnstones. Except maybe Liv Tyler and that’s only because I’ve not seen much of her since her Arwen days. Rose tinted spectacles and all that. Horny, spermy teenaged spectacles that look all angsty.

The world will be a better place when it has been washed clean of all Johnstones. Which judging by recent climate reports will probably be around 2030.


Stop banning things!

I quite liked Jamie Oliver when he first started appearing on television. I liked his lack of pretension and his passion for good, hearty meals. Alas, his hatred for chicken nuggets drove him off the edge of sanity and he ploughed right through the British education system. No chicken nugget was safe, no burger could escape his wrath and he practically erased the Turkey Twizzler from the history books.

Whilst to some extent I can appreciate what he tried to do and applaud the strength of his morals, I really wish the self-righteous prick would now kindly fuck off. If he could take the British Government with him that’d be a bonus.

A letter organised by the chef prompted the UK government to contemplate banning two-for-one deals on junk food. This is of course in a bid to tackle the growing obesity crisis. Which is the last thing you’d want to tackle, as it’s likely to hurt and feel very sweaty. If that’s not enough, the government is now set to follow France’s example by banning free refills on sugary drinks. Apparently, we’re all going mad for these deals and hitting the machines with reckless abandon. In a few instances, this has led to people drowning in Pepsi. These people have not been identified because the sugar rotted all their teeth to nothing and therefore could not be matched to dental records.

The UK’s problem with obesity is apparently a problem. I can accept that to a certain degree. I saw three fat people today. It was hot and one of them had their shirt off. This is definitely a problem. I don’t want to be seen as body shaming, but if your body is unsightly, you shouldn’t be showing it off. I have the opposite problem. I’m so skinny that if I decided to walk around with no shirt on (because I’ve had a stroke or mental breakdown) I’d look like a skeleton and all the local necromancers would assume I was their servant.

To quote Wikipedia “In 2014 62% of adults in England were classified as overweight (a body mass index of 25 or above) or obese, compared to 53% 20 years earlier.” That was four years ago, so I can assume that the figures now show that 99.99% are now considered overweight and that there’s just one man somewhere in the Isle of Wight who’s considered healthy and he’s deeply unhappy because he’s forced to do all the jobs that require movement as he’s the only one that can climb stairs without getting out of breath.

What’s interesting to note is that twenty years earlier in 1994 more than half the adult population of England was considered overweight, but nobody seemed to give a shit (maybe that’s why hoho!). Why is that? We might ask. Is it a problem now because it’s putting unnecessary strain on the NHS? Is it because we have become increasingly obsessed with looks and therefore anything that doesn’t fit within very strict criteria is deemed undesirable? Or is obesity simply an easy target for news outlets to pad out a slow news week, rapidly ageing TV chefs to hang on to in order to remain in the public eye and for governments to talk about to avoid any of the more pressing matters?

They are all interesting answers, but ultimately irrelevant. What matters here is that the British public is at risk of simply rolling over and accepting nannyism of the highest order. Once upon a time, we were free to make our own choices. Each individual was responsible for their own actions and had to accept the consequences and accept we did, albeit with a great deal of anguish. Once upon a time, a festival would not have been cancelled because some people died taking ‘bad drugs’ as opposed to the really good ones that everyone should take on the reg. Instead, there’d just be a statement released saying “When you ingest substances you or a friend or even a friend of a friend bought from a stranger, there’s a small chance that might not end well. Take them at your own risk.”

On the one hand, we have the government, doing its best to ‘help us’, by relieving us of our right to choose. It started with the smoking ban. I myself hate smoking and think all smokers are fucking idiots (don’t get me started on vapers). I don’t see how anyone could get the urge to stuff some shredded leaves into a piece of paper, set it on fire and then inhale the result, but I don’t want to stand in the way of people making this truly foolish choice. Whilst it’s nice that I can sit in a pub and not have it smell as though it had recently caught fire, it was the start of something almost sinister.

Now it’s gone further. Tax on smoking was raised and then there was the plain packaging law because apparently bright coloured packages with pictures on them might encourage children to smoke, despite the fact that children can’t buy cigarettes. Then they were printed with death threats on them: “smoking causes tumours which cause you to die”, “smoking puts your children at risk”, “If you smoke, we’ll come to your house and get you.” It went on and on until someone decided that they have to be kept behind a locked cabinet and no one can look upon them. In turn, these cabinets are sealed with potent magic and should anyone ask for some tobacco they are immediately sent to re-education centres.

Whilst all this went on, adverts started to emerge warning us ignorant masses that drinking is quite dangerous, and we should all do so responsibly. Which was a shame as my dad used to spend his days drinking whisky whilst juggling chainsaws at the same time as cooking soup. Addled by the alcohol as he was and focusing on both the chainsaws and the bubbling soup, he didn’t notice my brother gnawing on the loose wiring. Since he was warned that drinking two pints can lead to you killing a woman with a magic table, he has changed his habits.

Alcohol tax has risen, and all bottles and cans now come with a ‘drink responsibly… or else’ tag. Some have even called that booze should come in some plain packaged forms because the government won’t be happy until everything is packaged plainly, even the people.

I can’t shake the fear that alcohol will one day be banned, and pubs will only be able to sell Coke. That is of course as long as they only sell one Coke per customer. It’s mad. Mad I say.

Combine all this with the ban on junk food deals and unlimited refills and we’ve got the beginnings of the perfect conspiracy. The government are habituating us to the regular removal of our rights. They take away tobacco, to keep us healthy and we applaud it. They clamp down on alcohol for our own good and we say, ‘fair enough’. Various foodstuffs and sugar we say ‘well… okay.’ Then they say, ‘we’re getting rid of all immigrants for your safety!’   and before you know it they’ve got rid of our right to vote because we can’t be trusted to use it wisely.

On the other hand, we have the incredibly vocal members of public who are also morons. The type that see fat people, or become fat themselves and cry to the government “and what do you plan on doing about this? Look at us. We’re disgusting.” As they cram their fourth Krispy Kreme into their greasy faces because they were on offer. “You need to do something. Look I can’t stop, I’m reaching for my fifth!”

Or worse, there are those who demand that the government think of the children. Who fear for the future of the wee bairns. If you care about your children, maybe don’t let them have more than one fizzy drink and cook them some damn vegetables. As for other people’s children, you’re not allowed to decide how they should be raised, unfortunately. I say unfortunately, because there are a lot of children living in my area who are going to grow up to be dicks and would benefit from a good old-fashioned beating. But as I say… not our place. I don’t know I’m drunk.

Stop banning things. Nothing good has ever come from banning something. If you want to raise awareness of the increasing obesity and diabetes issue, just say before someone buys an unlimited drink that they do contain a lot of sugar and might make you fat. Unless the person is already fat in which case they’ll know the drill.


Sort of Topical Post

As in all things, I strive to be ever so slightly behind where current events are concerned. I tend to read the news a mere three times a week, that way I get more out of the experience. Now, as a fairly left leaning liberal, it’s once again time to leap to the aid of the NHS. By that, I mean write a half-arsed article for my handful of loyal readers to look at before realising I don’t have any doodles in this one.

Recently, that toad faced caricature of a bloated egotist Donald Trump tweeted that ‘thousands of people are marching in the UK because their U system is going broke and not working.’ I don’t know what a U system is. This is once again indicative that one of the most powerful men in the world gets his global information from Fox News and that gaping hole that is his anus alone.

If he knew anything about British culture he’d know that we don’t march if things are broken and not working. If things get broken, we all collectively go ‘Waaaay’ before returning to our alcoholic stupors. If things aren’t working, we hit it and if that doesn’t solve the matter we return to our alcoholic stupors.

The march was in fact a proactive demonstration to demand more money for an NHS that has worked for many decades and that we all hold very dear. It is a system that works very well on the whole, but needs more resources. We need more doctors and we definitely need more money. Money that we in the United Kingdom are more than happy to pay.

No one likes the idea of taxes rising. Parties and politicians refrain from uttering the phrase lest they’re taken out back and beaten before being hung from a tree. Yet, everyone underestimates how much we’re willing to pay for our beloved NHS.

Recent polls reveal that three quarters of us are willing to pay one whole pound a week to help better fund the NHS. A whole pound! That’s one quarter of a pint. The issue there remains, this money would have to go to the NHS. Not like that 350 million of Brexit money that was promised to it and now when asked, Boris Johnson laughs, shrugs and spits on a poor person.

We’d be willing to pay, if we were assured it was going where it was needed and we saw the results. Everyone deserves free healthcare, why should it be reserved for those who can afford it? No one plans to go to hospital, no one makes the conscious effort to get cancer, except for smokers maybe. Why should people have to re-mortgage their home to pay for life saving surgery?

This is why I’ll never understand America. Barak Obama tried really hard to provide the people with affordable healthcare and the people responded as though he was trying to kill their children. Trump doesn’t want universal healthcare, he much prefers the idea of having to pay $2,000 to recast a broken arm and if you can’t afford it, he wants you to stagger around for the rest of your life with misshapen limbs.

Of course, he speaks from that privileged position of being a very rich man. Medical bills are nothing to him, so he would not understand. Keeping your people healthy is imperative for a happy functioning nation. As absurd as it may sound to the human mind, in somethings, we must be willing to come together and do what we can for the greater good. The capitalist system may work in some respects, but there are times when we have to put it aside.

It will be hard. Introducing universal healthcare won’t be cheap and it will not happen over one night, but the benefits will be tremendous. It’ll put everyone on an equal footing as far as health is concerned. If you are rich and can’t abide the idea of using the same hospitals as everyone else, because you’re better than them, then there’ll still be private healthcare.

I just find it irksome when – for lack of a better term – ignorant twats argue against universal healthcare by making wild claims about the NHS. The fact is, we get sick, we go to a doctor, we get better and we’re not left in destitution.

There are flaws yes. Every system has flaws and these can be overcome with the right funding and a fucking multiparty council to look after all things NHS to avoid politics getting too involved. We need to encourage our youth to stop doing film studies courses and pursue a rewarding medicine career. The more doctors and nurses we have, the less strained the system will be.

I know anecdotal accounts don’t really count as evidence in most situations, but recently my uncle passed away from cancer. When he took a turn for the worst it had been snowing, which in England means everything stops running. An NHS doctor got on a train only to get stranded an entire town away from where my uncle was, so, in the snow, he walked. It was by no means a short walk, nor a pleasant one, but he did so anyway. My uncle got the treatment he needed and admitted to a hospice where he could be comfortable in his final week or so. Does this sound like a broken system?

When people complain about long waiting times in A&E, ask them what they were there for. You’ll find they won’t say ‘my arm had been severed and I was bleeding to death whilst on fire’. They’ll say ‘I bashed my finger and it really hurt. It wasn’t broken in the end just a bit swollen.’

The NHS is a profoundly human thing. We all own it collectively. It is ours. We can help make it better and we should. Then if Trump comes on a state visit (assuming he’s not throwing a tantrum over the size of the American embassy or the selection of morning pastries), we can injure him with a bat. Then let him get some free treatment. That’ll learn him, I think.


Well that’s that. If you want to see some half arsed articles I got paid to write on subjects i have no authority on, please see the links below.  Also, my absurdist collection of short stories ‘The Tiny Compendium of Ridiculousness‘ is cheap. Buy that. It has 5 stars on the version. That’s the most stars you can get.


2018 – The Beginning of the End!

I haven’t posted in some time in fact, my last post was in August so some time in this sense translates to 2 months. This is primarily due to the fact that internet blogging is a futile endeavour and I was a fool to ever start. It’s like throwing a handful of your own shit at a mountain made up of thousands of other people’s shit and expecting everyone to take note of your shit, except less satisfying. Yet, here I am again because there’s only so many times I can listen to my own internal monologue.

So it is the Halloween weekend and Diwali weekend I’ve been led to believe, so happy Halloween or Diwali, depending on your preference. It seems since I’ve been away from the world of the internet, the people that live in the physical world have grown bored and decided that it’s probably about time for another World War, thereby completing the trilogy and getting some well-earned closure. Though this one will probably be more about the special effects than believable characters and well thought out plot.

Every so often we get those apocalypse predictions that spread around the internet and everyone gets really excited and it never happens, as is the nature of prophesying doom. So I’m going to make my own prediction, in the hope that having predicted it, I will avert disaster. So here goes. 2018 will see WWIII kick off which will spark nuclear conflict which will kill us all. There – it’s out there now, stock up on canned goods and a grab a makeshift weapon to deter looters.

Once again Russia and America are threatening each other with a beating with their nuclear stick. Putin has unveiled his Satan 2 Missile. Unveiling a missile does make it sound like it was hidden discretely underneath a white sheet for some time, before Putin dramatically whipped it off. Some have reported this missile as being powerful enough to wipe out an area the size of the UK. I happen to live in the UK which is also roughly the size of the UK so that sounds a touch worrying. The Mirror has even done a chirpy little interactive article where you can “discover your fate” should good ole London get nuked []. You can have a look if you like, but no matter where you put down, the result is ‘you are incinerated by a terrible explosion. If you aren’t you’ll wish you had as you slowly succumb to radiation and/or starve.’

Of course this is working under the theory that Nuclear war will just involve one pot shot. Realistically we can expect at least two thrown at us, maybe one from France as well. According to Business Insider 9 countries have nuclear weapons, possessing “Approximately 16,300” between them. Which would mean around 1,811 nukes each if shared out evenly, which they better be, fair is fair. Of course these are just the ones everyone is being open and honest about. My dad’s been spending a lot of time in his shed recently, what’s he up to? Of course you could question how Business Insider came about this knowledge, it seems unlikely that they phoned up each respective government to ask them about their nuclear arsenal and that said governments were all too pleased to provide this information. More to the point, why would Business Insider need to know this information. Anyway, it was a lazy Google on my part.

I recently watched a video of Putin giving an impassioned speech to journalists about the risks we face and giving his justification for whatever it is he’s doing. I suggest you all watch it, it’s rather interesting. He talks about the necessity of the balance of power and how for the last 70 years peace has been ensured by this said balance, and how America is constantly trying to tip the balance with subtle little manoeuvres, and how if the balance is skewed it makes a nation more likely to try and do naughty things. He almost comes across as a rational human being – unfortunately for him he bears too much of a resemblance to Dobby the House-elf to ever be taken seriously. That and he’s a mad man.

Alas, we live in an age where all the major players are destined to be run by madmen, except the UK which is soon to have no government at all as none of the parties can seem to agree on anything long enough to put together any reasonable plans. British politics currently resembles a large argument over a restaurant bill, which you know will only escalate until it’s resolved by a free-for-all in the carpark.

Soon, that perpetually confused and angry nation, the United States of America, whom can barely get its trousers on in the morning without firing a missile, will have to vote for their next President. They have the choice between a sociopathic racist, who’d struggle to answer the question 2+2 without first yelling at some Mexicans and making a crude sexual remark. And then they have a corrupt warmonger who as far as the rest of the world is concerned has already been president twice; and she’s currently being investigated by the FBI.

America is a truly mental place, where anyone can be President – even if you really, really shouldn’t.

It reminds me of those questions you ask a mate when you’re bored, a ‘would you rather question.’

“Would you rather have John Goodman sit on your face for fifteen minutes after a long run, or have to watch every single Adam Sandler movie in one go?”

“Would you rather have The Mountain from Game of Thrones shove his entire fist up your arse, or have that weird bloke that works in my office shit on your chest?”

“Trump or Clinton? – is death an option? Well at the rate the world’s going it’ll probably be enforced.”

England, France and Denmark will be sending troops, tanks and planes to Estonia to show ‘military presence’. Time and time again people are being quoted as saying ‘they do not want another cold war’ and on both sides the word ‘deterrent’ is being thrown about, which always annoys me. If you have a rat problem, you don’t deter them by adding more rats to the situation, that’s just going to make the problem worse!

France went and tore that lovely camp down earlier in the week, displacing the refugees again for having the audacity to be refugees. Every European nation is doing their best to pretend they’re not in so they don’t have to deal with the problem, which only stands to cause mischief. Isis is still messing about and will no doubt capitalise on all this global civil unrest and those guys are nutters.

So yeah, 2018 – the beginning of the end, note it down if you’re planning a holiday.

Except of course everything will be fine. Because of my prediction. So you’re welcome.

The Fuzzyrambler

What Will Trump Say Next?

Even he doesn’t know. When you watch him speak, he seems perpetually surprised that his lips are able to flap about like that, and like a giant toddler first learning the basics of speech, with every word he seems to express a great deal of self-satisfaction. Unlike most politicians, who have a team of speech writers, a director, make up artists and special effects team, Trump appears to enjoy the old school approach of just winging it.

In some ways I respect that. I adhere to that school of philosophy myself, just opening your mouth and hoping for the best. The ‘let’s just do it and see what happens’ approach to life is an admirable one. Unless you happen to be a deluded, bigoted, self-righteous cunt. In this case, the “see what happens” aspect of the ethos is easy to guess.

I thought Trump had lost it when one of his major proposals was to build a huge wall to separate America and Mexico, to stop those pesky Mexicans coming in and doing whatever it is that they do that the American populace hates so much. In particular the bit where he suggested that the Mexican government would be the ones footing the bill. A part wants him to become president, just so I can see this plan put into action and watch the farcical nonsense unfold, like a sit-com episode from the 70s. It could be called ‘To Be Trumped’ … or something better, that was just off the top of my head and I’ve only just woken up and not had coffee yet. Trumped should definitely feature, it makes it seem wittier.

I can only imagine the way that conversation will go.

‘Mexico, I’ve started work on the wall to stop you lot just wandering in and seeking a better life. Can we have the first payment?’

‘Who is this?’

‘The President of the United States. We need you to pay up now, because those building the wall have unionised and are demanding money. If only we had hired some hard working Mexican immigrants.’

‘What’s to stop people just tunnelling under this wall?’

‘Beg your pardon?’

‘Never mind, cheque’s in the post.’

There was once a time when a weird, startled manatee of a man would make these sorts of pledges and be laughed at. World wide we be joined in ridicule, it’d make us glad to be alive. Alas, we seem to have entered a dangerously, bitterly angry time in which people vote for them instead.

Recently, Trump has been seen telling mother’s to remove their babies, who we can only assume were crying because they could see their future being shat upon by their grandparents and their parents. And he has also compared any sort of sacrifice he made to make money from real estate to that of a soldier giving his life for his country, and subsequently his family losing their son. I don’t know quite what sacrifices he is referring to, or if he even knows the meaning of the word sacrifice, to quote the man himself:

“I think I’ve made a lot of sacrifices. I work very, very hard. I’ve created thousands and thousands of jobs, tens of thousands of jobs, built great structures. I’ve done ― I’ve had ― I’ve had tremendous success. I think I’ve done a lot,”

Donald “The Bloated Manatee” Trump.

Of course it’s easy to do a lot in real estate if your father is already rich and well known in the construction industry. This is perhaps typical of self-righteous rich white men. Of course they will not know what personal sacrifice means, they’ve never been exposed to it, it is a concept forever out of reach of their limited understanding.

Whereas any sensible politician (and I am aware of how cynical I sound) would have seized an opportunity  in the case of the Khan family and adopted a sense of faux sorrow and solidarity and praised the sacrifices of a brave soldier and invited his parents around for dinner. Trump chose to insult them and insinuate misdeeds. Of course they weren’t white enough for Trump so he wouldn’t let them in his house. They also had the audacity to be Muslim and we all know where he stands in that regard.

And to quote the man himself:

“They’re not coming to this country if I’m president. And if Obama has brought some to this country they are leaving, they’re going, they’re gone.”

Donald “The Bloated Manatee Fuckface” Trump.

Imagine if they were Mexican?

Again, in a different time these actions would probably have him removed from politics and locked away in some kind of hole somewhere, a racist hole – for racists. Incidentally that will be another television show I’ll be working on ‘The Racist Hole.” Instead, he still stands a good chance of becoming the president of one of the most powerful nations on the planet. If Theresa May (British PM – I know, I keep having to Google it to remember too), has no qualms with sentencing hundreds of thousands of people she doesn’t know and have done her no harm, to death by nuclear devastation, Trump would probably drop the bomb himself riding it “Dr Strangelove” style, probably onto Mexico, stating all the while “this is a good thing. Oh yes, I think it’s a good thing, I’m not worried at all.”

In his great delusion, he probably won’t even fear his own death, as he probably thinks he can rise again.

And to quote the man himself (probably, I’ve grown bored of research):

“Actually, I have a lot in common with Jesus. We both worked in the family business…”

Donald “The Bloated Manatee Fuckface Jesus (apparently)” Trump.


To be fair to him on this occasion, the pair do have a fair bit in common – neither he nor Jesus would have gotten anywhere if it wasn’t for their fathers. Now, if only we could nail Trump to something.

… I may have just lost my moral standing on this one. Criticizing the man for bigotry and then belittling the death of Christ. But at least I’m aware of my own hypocrisy. It’s fine, you’re allowed to insult the Christians without fear of recompense, because Jesus told them to turn the other cheek. If they don’t they’re being bad Christians, and Jesus will judge them! The only thing that made him mad was setting up market stalls in a church. Imagine that – going to a place you know people will be and trying to earn a living… this was in the depths of history too in a land where basic amenities were scarce and expensive. Selfish entrepreneurs trying to provide for themselves and their families.

Anyway, I got side tracked.

I can only hope that this is all a bit of satirical performance art, and if Trump gets to the White House, he’ll grin rip off his face and it’ll turn out to be Sacha Baron Cohen and we’ll all have a good laugh. Unfortunately, I feel satire is lost on most Republicans.

I’ll leave you with this last quote from the man himself:

“I’m a massive tool and I like to put vegetables up my wrinkly ass. I think it’s a good thing. I’m not worried at all. I murder puppies with golden hammers in my big house. I sneak into your children’s bedroom at night and urinate in their face.”

Donald Trump.


I feel in the interest of transparency, a lot of the quotes were lifted straight from newspapers, and of course as such, could well be misrepresented or false as we all know journalists have their own political agenda to promote. I have done little in the way of verifying these quotes were actually said, and I can say for certain that one of them is definitely made up.




Referendums for Everyone!

Referendums for Everyone.



I do my very best to avoid reading newspapers. It seems that no matter which one you read, someone somewhere will brand you something you do not wish to be branded. I could be of a strong mentality and hold my head high and say ‘your opinion matters little to me’ but I can’t. However, I occasionally tap on a news app on my phone when I’m doing my morning poo. In doing so I am often confronted with various talks of referendums. I even got a letter through the other day attempting to explain the subtler points of the EU referendum.

Not long ago, my readers from the apparently not so united United Kingdom, will remember there was a Scottish referendum. Where we all waited with baited breath to see if Scotland would erect a giant mast in Edinburgh, unfurl a great sail and break off from the rest of us and sail across the globe to sit with Australia, where they can bond over their mutual dislike of us English. The vote concluded that the majority of Scottish people wanted to remain a part of the UK, before voting en masse for the SNP anyway. They’re an unpredictable people. Whasserface, the Scottish minister lady, whom Google would tell me her name, but that would fly in the face of me keeping out of politics, has said that there could very well be another referendum of Scottish independence. Because apparently the democratic process is only reliable if you get the result you want. She’s adamant that the Scottish people want to be rid of us oppressive Brits so much so that we’re just one more referendum away from being apart forever. Scotland will become an independent state and will fund it’s free education and free prescriptions with the money it earns from exporting whiskey presumably, now that the price of oil has plummeted.

What’s strange, is that the Scottish people on the whole (if we’re going to make broad generalisations – which I have and I am), are very Pro-Europe. Doesn’t want to be part of the United Kingdom, but perfectly happy to be part of the European Union. Don’t get me wrong, I’m Pro EU myself, but it’s the disjointed logic I don’t care for.

That strange toad like, beer swilling aristocrat from a bygone age Nigel Farage has recently stated that if the Stay vote wins by a slender margin, there will be unfinished business “In a 52-48 referendum this would be unfinished business by a long way. If the Remain campaign win two-thirds to one-third that ends it.” Again, seemingly subscribing to the theory that democracy only counts if he gets his way. He claims that there will definitely be a second EU referendum. At this rate we’ll have referendums all over the place, never getting anything done. Referendum after referendum. We’ll be in and out – in and out and shaking it all about. This is the same man that somehow believes leaving the EU will make us safer from all those foreign people that want to kill us.

Now, if you’ve read this far I pity you. This endless waffle is not my forte, I usually just complain about how dull my life is, and then demand people by my book. My view is this. England – nay the entire United Kingdom – is a very small and impotent nation. The ‘Brexit’ (sounds like a breakfast cereal), campaigners if you’ve had the misfortune of talking to any of them, tend to be old posh people. Old posh people who still think we matter, who still think we have an empire. Rule Britannia and all that. We don’t. Sure the commonwealth is still holding on by its bloody stumpy fingers (we have New Zealand I think… and Australia, but most of us in England don’t even realise this), but we are close to nothing on the world stage. If Scotland got its independence, than we’d be even smaller and more pointless, and it wouldn’t be long before the Welsh started getting ideas and before we know it we’d have some Game of Thrones shit going on.

With the EU, we could potentially be something. As we progress, we should be looking to forge a more united globe, not wasting time and money on becoming more divided. We need to be prepared for the alien invasion, of 2034 (on a Tuesday afternoon I think).

Here are the two possibilities should we leave the EU.

  1. Absolutely nothing will change. We shan’t become a superpower, our economy wouldn’t improve and we won’t be safer. We’ll just be the same, only we won’t have the full support of our European neighbours.
  2. Our economy will suffer, our diplomatic relations would suffer and we’d be a lot less secure.

This is absolutely correct, anyone who argues with me is a fool. A foolish fool and I hate them. So, the point of this longwinded, ill thought out piece, is this – vote to stay in the EU. Stop having referendums, they’re just there to distract us from the real important issues: like the fact our planet is dying, wars all over the place – the distinct possibility that Donald Trump could become the next President of America, should that happen we’re all doomed.

Vote stay. Or at the very least make sure you vote. I’m talking to you young people. Young people who think it’s cool and intellectual to not vote because “nothing changes anyway, they don’t do anything or me” and then have the audacity to complain. I hate you. You’re a bunch of narcissistic arrogant cunts and you let the old conservative people win, simply because of your bohemian sense of apathy. Don’t be a Cunt. Vote. And if you do vote, Don’t be a Cunt again – vote stay.