Today I accidentally donated £2 to the Socialist Worker Party.
I felt sorry for them, so I went over. They were trying to get rich, spoonfed students who notice them, but without offering naff double entendres (Shag/Pounded etc) and an RnB soundtrack, they were invisible.
Not that I am any different. I still believe Tony Blair is the best PM we’ve ever had, with his lovely hair and smile. Tony, you’re welcome to pop round for tea, as long as you bring the pudding.
Anyway, I went over to the socialists and they instantly came alive like robots on tandby. There was a jolly middle-aged woman, an over-excited long haired boy, and someone who was so unnoticeable I just didn’t notice him.
I signed their petition, but halfway through my name, I realised that there was a box for Donation at the end of the line, and everyone so far had entered an amount. Shit.
I don’t do donations.
“If you give us 75p, you get a sticker” the woman chuckled.
I had 2 £2 coins in my pocket, and I wanted to get my lunch and a coffee with them. I pulled one out, and as the gold disc gleamed in the afternoon sunshine, a gold glimmer lit up their socialist faces.
Just before I was about to ask “Do you have change for this?”
T he young man piped up with “Oh, that would be wonderful, thankyou”
“Oh, yes, there you go” I said, watching my hand lower it into the lip of the money pot and drop it in.
Like the fairground fortune teller in Big, as the coin dropped, the longhair came to life, gushing about how he was running for council and he was talking at a big talk somewhere and he was growing his hair until the socialist party got into Westminster.
I wanted a bloody coffee, and now I couldn’t because these cunts had used my politeness against me like a weapon of mass niceness. Yet again I had gotten myself in a fix because I could’t say no.
God how many hours of my life have I wasted trudging along on some stupid, pointless or scary journey because I couldn’t work out how to avoid it? (Answer- a lot)
I nearly got abducted by the Moonies because when an overfamiliar man asked if I wanted to go and see a video about how to be happy. I thought “He can tell I look miserable, so he will never believe me if I say I don’t need to watch his video”. So I went to some cult HQ where people attacked me with smiles, and watched a video about Sun and Yi Moon, the Fred and Mary West of Eastern religion.
“I don’t think I am ready to commit” I said after it finished, and was escorted out by a man who made the joker look sad. I found out later that the party trick of this cult is nighttime abductions. I should have put Harvey’s address down.
Oh. I just killed a midge. I wouldnt mind, but I wanted to save it from Esther, who would have crushed it if she’d seen it first.
I saw it and grabbed it before she did, and threw it out of the window to freedom. Then I noticed it was half crushed on my palm. Balls. I can’t do right for doing wrong.
What’s the point of morals if they just make you feel crap because you can’t live up to them? I want to go around punching pregnant women in the stomach and trapping old lady fingers in doors and shouting at disabled people who can’t talk properly.
I want to do everything I am scared of doing by accident because I am crap at not doing them. Life is a constant series of near social disasters, where the thin membrane of convention and decency is ruptured and ripped by my semi-erection of clumsiness and apathy?