Wednesday, 19 March 2008

Let's Play: "Who's The Fucking Idiot?" !

Dearest, fondest reader,

Yesterday I was driving my car and I decided to actually interact with the world for the first time in ages by switching on the radio. Radio2 seemed to be the one with the least amount of shitty recycled crap music and some actual 'talk' on it that wasn't related to the latest sports doldrums. The debate at the time I switched it on was related to, and I am starting to laugh here because surely it couldn't be true? The debate was around the issue of rating movies with smoking in it as 18 certificate. No, honest, everyone had a straight tone to their voice and no one let on that this was a joke. In fact, brilliantly, it seemed that the majority of callers were actually saying this was a good thing, and even going further to say that smoking should be banned entirely! Ha ha, you guys. We Brits still have a refined sense of humour don't we? Quality stuff..ho ho.

What's that you say? Surely not? It's NOT a fucking JOKE!?!? Have we all gone sphincter-sniffing mental?

Now, bear in mind when I tell you this, that I have never ever smoked anything in my life. Don't want to, probably never will. Despite this, if you want to smoke that's just peachy with me, however you'll have to do without my good company if you do. I'm certain you're gutted. But it's a simple system that works just fine without anyone interferring with it. I stood alone as a non-smoker who was against the government dictatorship of the UK dictating who pub owners should allow into their businesses. A fucking insult to freedoms that everyone I know seems quite happy about. But I digress...

I wanted to play a little game I've just invented called "Who's The Fucking Idiot?". I'll tell you an imaginary story then ask you some questions at the end and you have to decide "Who's The Fucking Idiot?". Cue music..

A young man decides that life is too much to bear and kills himself by swigging a litre of extra strength household bleach. Oooh, painful! His (understandably) distraught family learn that lemon juice or vinegar can be just as effective at cleaning around the kitchen and that they need not have had bleach lying around the house in the first place. If their son had swigged lemon juice or vinegar then the only mess they'd have to have cleaned up was about a gallon of puke rather than twelve stone of cadaver. So, to cope with their grief, they start a campaign to ban the sale of bleach (especially the extra strong stuff) and approach newspapers and media companies who'll tell their terrible story. The media dutifully oblige with a furrowed brow, sympathetic ear and morose tone and the message gets heard. An ambitious politician decides that here's a subject with an emotional vote-winning angle, and before you can say "band wagon" he's out there lobbying government to "do something about it". Years pass, but eventually the government (spit) pass a law that effectively bans all corrosive chemicals in domestic households or non-licensed businesses. The general public accept this ruling and clean their homes with vinegar and lemon juice and learn to shit down the pan without touching the sides.

Now, "Who's The Fucking Idiot(s)?", is it..
  1. The young man that drank the bleach?
  2. The family for calling for a ban on bleach?
  3. The media for reporting it in all seriousness?
  4. The politician for actually making it a governmental issue?
  5. The government for, well, they're the government aren't they?
Or is it option 6, ALL OF THE ABOVE.

If I want to drink bleach that's my shitty party, alright? Not yours or theirs, or whoever's, it's MINE. If I'm stupid enough to smoke then that is my tough shit. Mind your own business.

It's really, really, really simple, and it just can't be hard to understand, so please, leave alone, we all ought to be responsible for ourselves.

Now some of you will have been saying all along "Yes, but when something I do to myself effects other people (such as passive smoking) then we have a problem don't we eh? Mr.Smith?" Well, yes, I agree, we do, but I shall save that issue for another blog.

Needless to say I switched the radio off as the anger I was feeling was getting ventless. Instead I just drove along biting into my steering wheel.

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