Lovers Haters and Undecideds

What I have learned from TV:

  1. Keeping secrets is the worst but only thing to do,
  2. Because the truth will out, and when that happens
  3. Drinking whiskey is the only way to feel better.
  4. Sex is better with someone who isn’t your partner;
  5. Hence, relationships never last because
  6. Being young and beautiful is the only thing worth having
  7. But wealth and status are the only remedies to age, and
  8. The older men get, the younger the women they go for,
  9. While women will happily accept an older uglier lover.


I am the latest in our group of 3 to buy an all in one suit. I got a tiger outfit from Primark. Lisa has a mouse suit that she wears so much, which is actually a rabbit suit from France. Esther has a pink dogtooth outfit, with a self-made split to allow toilet visits. A common grumble is that they can’t wear their all in ones to the shop without facing ridicule and humiliation.

Esther: “I know, why don’t we just wear tracksuit bottoms tucked into Ugg boots. It’s the ultimate comfort outfit”.

Lisa pulls a face.
I begin to think about Chavs and why we hate them. Could it be coz we are all middle class snobs? Chavs wear leisurewear without shame, as a symbol of not working, or of having the kind of job where it doesn’t matter how scruffy you are: labourer, binman, dinner lady. And we pride ourselves on wearing our status in its crisp, clean smartness.

There’s a class war still on, and we are instigating it. It offends our bourgeois sensibilities to see other people who care less about being smart and presentable. We believe that neatness and conspicuous consumption demonstrate a civilised mind, but who are we kidding? We’re just keeping up with the Joneses, a well-groomed dog v. dog fight.

"I mourn the loss of stuff the world over"

News: A man was arrested for burning poppies during the 2-minute silence. What law is this breaking? Annoying nationalists? Surely that’s one of the pleasures of life?
And what about the student who pissed on the memorial wreath? It makes me so angry I want to wank on one, or have projectile diarrhoea.

Why do people insist on dredging up the milked-dry corpse of war with perverted pleasure? There was nothing great or respectable about it, it was nasty, immoral, greedy. We didn’t have right on our side, we just had the bomb. I can understand why we shouldn’t forget the horror. But there’s a whole other side to it: thinking it was our greatest moment is like when people say that school was the best time of their life. Only psychopaths and bullies liked school- only soldiers like wars, and only bullies become soldiers. Fuck off to Afghanistan and die, bullies.

I’d like to write a history of Hatred. I wouldn’t talk about wars and violence and rape because they are more about power than dislike. Instead, I’d write about the anger that drove Johnny Lydon to scrawl “I HATE” over his Pink Floyd T shirt.

People define themlselves against what they don’t like- I find it easier to reel off a list of things I detest rather than what I love. Rappers don’t sing for their fans, they sing for all the haters.

My all time favourite prick/genius, Malcolm McLaren (he created Bow Wow Wow by getting a 14 year old schoolgirl to sing with Adam Ants band and he got Adam Ant to put makeup on), once created a tshirt manifesto which set out the battle lines for punk philosophy. At the top it said

‘You’re going to wake up and KNOW which side of the bed you’ve been lying on…:’

Then came 2 lists- one of the pitiful remnants of a stagnant culture, the other of future heroes…

"My bed's got 2 wrong sides"

This kind of idea has been boiled down and refried a million times over, and now gives us Heat magazine’s Manometer and the Guardian Weekend’s Barometer of style.

These reflect products the authors have an interest in promoting, or ideologies they buy into (high end fashion/macho men).  But I still believe that setting out your aesthetic boundaries is a way of defining yourself:

It used to be simple. I hated:




Mr Blobby

Now my hates are more varied and confused:

Coronation Street

Scrubs/Two and a Half Men (most popular show in America? You sad fucks)

Earnest Folky types

"Mumford and Sons: gentle, honest schmucks"

Piano/Funky-House music

Self conscious arty movies (usually starring Michael Cera and/or Ellen Paige)

Yuppies and Chavs- the middle class is best

Christians- you creep me out with your ability to ignore facts

David Cameron and his cronies- Your face and your voice make me want to puke you smug wet lipped posho with plastic hair.

N-Dubz (Actually I think that they are clever and funny and I was just being a chav snob)

I Love:

Lady Gaga (I’m so over her)

Jodie Foster. She is the most private famous person ever, and I’m sure she’s a lesbian.

Katy Perry (Sorry I’m bored of you now)

Sandra Bullock (same reasons as Jodie Foster)

Jean Baudrillard- bad boy philosopher who wrote a whole book about Seduction

Eastenders (only for Stacey Slater, Jay, Jean Slater, Geniene Butcher)

Canada (coz America hates it)

The sick fuck film producer Jud Apatow (40 Year Old Virgin, Superbad, Knocked Up, Funny People) These films have something deep to say about men. I haven’t worked it out yet tho.

Seal and Heidi Klum: the best celeb couple EVER because they don’t give a shit what they look like:

However, the older I get, the more that the hate list begins to appeal, and the more I despise what I used to like. I have sudden revelations: that a Coldplay song is really good; M People did some great songs. Coronation Street isn’t so bad. WTF?! Lady Gaga? What was I thinking?

The hate list shows exactly what my prejudices and snobbery are at that moment in time- whatever I afraid of or jealous of. Then at some unspecified stage, I become less uptight and the stubborn refusal to like certain things mellows.

I’m going from being an ‘Angry Young Men’ to being an ‘Anything-Goes Oldie’. HELP!!

Ooh look, Strictly Dancing is on.

I’m gonna shoot the frickin TV and piss in the holes. Bruce Forsyth is everything that is wrong with family entertainment.

Nope, still got some hatred in me.

Boring and Ugly in Springtime

"I got the animal strength of 2.5 men"

7th March

I can tell I’m not a bad boy because I can’t swear properly. My potty mouth is very unconvincing. Slumming aristos come to mind when I make up my mind to be rude out loud.

It’s like that episode of Miranda where she realises that she is middle class because she can’t say the word “sex”, she can only make a nasally under-the-breath “thehx” noise. Incidentally, my MA tutor is the only real person I know who does this. And he doesn’t have the excuse of being semi-fictional. I also know I am not a bad boy because when I get angry with someone I spend the next week apologising.

Although I do like to be controversial in my seminars. We were having a heavy-duty debate about Michel Foucault, when I asked “What would Foucault have made of Simon Cowell?”

Our tutor looked up, sneered and said, “He would probably have tried to fuck him”.

I was shocked. “Wash your potty mouth out” I wanted to say, “You’re meant to be an adult”.

"I want you balls, Cowell"

8th March

Lisa: “I’ve just come up with part of a song:

“I’ve got fifteen fingers and I’m already dead”.

We wait for more.

“That’s it so far. It’s kind of a song about Chernobyl survivors,” she adds.

“Maybe it’s best to leave people guessing the meaning,” says Esther diplomatically.

Latest news overheard when half drunk (so not verifiable), ”snoods and legwarmers have been banned for footballers”.

11th March

Esther has decided that she is a “stress dyslexic”. This means that she is normally competent with language (yeah right!) but then when she becomes anxious, she stops being able to read and write properly.

Esther has also decided that I am a “stress autistic” because when I’m under pressure I lose my empathy and spend hours obsessively working out pathetic puns.

I think that the symptoms of autism are the same as those of masculinity: selfishness, lack of emotional expression, obsession with details and collecting stuff. And 90+% of all the autistic people I’ve worked with have been male.

I got the fear last night that maybe I was autistic and everyone knew it apart from me. I got a cold sweat for a bit and then got distracted by Embarrassing Illnesses. It is the best opportunity to see nipples at the moment, without having to turn over whenever Esther comes in. It is on her list of acceptable TV programmes.

Note to self: I’ve never read the bible- perhaps I should? Everyone is always banging on about it, killers in films are always quoting it, and men in the street are always shouting about it.


Sometimes the bible needs a little updating...

Tasteless Joke no. 1:

Japanese man: “Ha! Just try and fight me! You and whose army?!”

God of weather: “Me and Tsunami, that’s who!”

I think this joke needs some more tweaking personally.