| Ok, so when I turned on my computer I had something really deep and meaningful to say about the world, my life, possibly the Queen mother, and more probably about the Falklands. Three quarters of an hour and the lucky computer is still in the right number of peices, lucky because it shouldnt take me three quarters of an hour to turn the damn thing on, connect to the internet, sign into yahoo and get page builder working. The sad and very annoying thing is that it does. It is now twenty to one in the morning on Easter Sunday, and I have no idea what the deep, meaningful and obviously interesting and world changing thoughts I was going to share with my beautiful if imagineary readers. Damn. It could have had something to do how stupidly slow computers are, except this ones a lot faster than many, so I will move swiftly on. It could have had something to do with the general evilness of my brother, and actually most things in my life at the moment seem to have something to do with the general or specific evilness of my brother. He hasn't done anything in particular, but he does insist on existing, and I feel that that is enough to warrant life imprisonment at least. No I'm not completely without reason in my hatred. He doesn't understand why I hate him, but one day he will learn to look beyond the end of his own nose and there he will see a whole new world of other people. Yes John darling they do exist, and I'm one of them, as are your parents. And your girlfriends, or exgirlfriends. Now that is a novel idea! It was more probably about people you see for the first time in something like 8 years. I was infact nien eight years ago, which is pretty young, and seems like an eternity away. So, today we had a visit from some vague people from my childhood, and I have made the fantastical discovery that all the people I remember from my childhood, not including relatives, are actually from Romford. This came as a great shock to me, having spent some time recently assuring someone that I am most deffinately not from Romford, because I am. Well I am and I'm not. I was actually born in Harold Wood, like the majority of the civillised world round here, it being the local maternity ward, ignoring of course oldchurch, thats a manky hospital, and I dont even know if it has a maternity ward. I then lived the first 10 years or so of my life in Romford, but it was sort of Gidea Park, which is so incredibly different to Romford it's indescribable. But it was only about a street away form the place known as Romford, and only about two streets away form what used to be J Sainsburys and liberty 2. The people in Gidea Park are pretty much the same as the people from Romford, just a huge amount richer. Not me, I lived in a three bedroomed semi, but most of Gidea Park is made up of huge houses, 7 bedroomed detatched houses, quite new, with big cars outside. And very tanned women in them wearing huge amounts of makeup and jewellry, and some of the snobbyist kids you've ever met. "Where did you get your shoes from, Oxfam?" "No, Marks and Spencers" "Well mine are from Gucci!" Maybe not quite that bad, but you get the picture Where was I? Oh yeah, people from Romford. You have the generations. The people over 60 are made up of people who used to live in the Eastend and have moved. The women quite often wear headscaves, not always but often, and they smell of a certain type of food. They tend to have things wrong with their hips etc, that the Queen Mum would simply have had an operation on ages ago and mended. They hoble, in pairs, pushing those shopping trolley things. Not like metal shopping trolleys form Sainsburys but cloth shopping trolleys they've bought, on two wheels. I have no idea what the men look like, because they never bothered talking to small children out with their Mums. Their kids are in their 40s, wear tracksuits and white trainers, and normally some sort of name, like Addidas. They get these things from the market, along with their childrens clothes, fruit etc. The women wear alot less makeup than the Gidea Park women, and are a huge amount less tanned, but they have the hoop earings. Its an Essex trademark I believe. The men tend to be rude and have builders bums, most of them being builders or market tradesmen etc. They can shout really loudly. Then there's their children. The scum of the Earth. Well, some of them. They scare me tremendously, and the majority of Ruddies come from Romford. With their red baseball caps etc. Yuk. You will find a huge mix of people in Romford, especially in the shopping bits, but investigation will prove that people who dont fit these discriptions tend to be visiting. Its not always true, obviously, because you cant say that everyone from somewhere will be like this, but a large amount of people are. But by Romford, I mean Romford, not just near Romford, or Gidea Park. I mean middle of Romford, 100 meters from the market Romford And now its time to ask myself why on Earth I have just written so much nonsense about what some people from a town in Essex are like, when the majority of people in the world are not from this town in Essex and will never visit this town in Essex, there being no reason to unless you're interested in drugs trafficing or the psycology of violent children. Being the center of social activity in this small section of Essex is really not that hard, when you consider you're talking about Upminster, Hornchurch, Gidea Park, Cranham and Abbs Cross. There I go again talking absolute cobblers. Now I'm going to slag off the Sun newspaper. Today I watched a program about the Falklands war. Well sort of watched. Well glanced at briefly. It was talking about the sun. I have decided that the sun is the epicenter of all things associated with the stupidity of the awful English. Well the British I suppose. The only people that call themselves British are the English though. The Scottish are Scottish, the Welsh are Welsh, and the English are British. Anyway, I hate the sun. Its the thing about the extreme right wing that my brother was talking about. Why the tories stayed in power for so long, however awful the country was becoming as a result. Extreme right wing parties, like the Nazis, play certain cards, like patriotism. The British national party sent us all leaflets just before the last election that were covered in phrases that any self respecting left winger would cringe at. Things like "We Brits are better than them." I only said that because I couldnt think of what they actually said. But it was all "us" and "them" and "Keep the Pound, the pound is Britain" and "send all them forigners home, we dont want 'em here" OK Mr sexist racist British nationalist, lets not go into the euro, lets not save the commision on changing money when we go abroad, lets not get all the European human rights laws, limiting your working hours, and getting you a good hourly rate, lets also send back all the political asylum seekers, who, on return to the country they ran away form in desperation, will, almost certainly be killed in some grusome way. Lets just hope they remember your kindness when you've voted in your extreme right wing government, who want to get you out of the country because you haven't got a job, because they closed your factory, because the tax from international trading waas to much and it couldnt stay afloat. Ok, so what is this page about again? Oh yeah, the sun. Its all about money. It plays up to this sexist racist culture. The headlines it printed during the Falklands war, wow, yes its alot easier to blow up 30 teenage boys when your calling them Aggies rather than people, doesnt make them any less dead, or any less teeange though, I'm afraid. That's what the British have always done - they've refused to accept that people born anywhere off this green isle are actually human, rather than some sort of brainless gorrilla. Makes them easier to kill during wars you see. We like wars. The Sun!!! Yes, they don't exactly hide their bias do they? And then there's the page three girls. Ok, Im not sure if I'm against the page 3 girls. They make enough money out of it. They could have some sort of page 3 man aswell though couldnt they? To prove they dont believe that there is only one sex in this country. Patriotism, yuk. What a bizarre little page. O well, not as if anyone will read it. |