Friday, October 06, 2017

When accidents happen – don’t watch the news



When accidents happen – don’t watch the news

Or should you?

A life of comparative luxurious poverty. That I have. A few small debts – mostly from gallivanting around and it was gallivanting around that caused the conclusion.

Stupidity. Along with a chain reaction of bad luck. But negligible when compared to listening to the news. But before I go into that – let me spew my moans and groans in not a chronicle order as the news jumps about also.

Recall – Blu Ray DVD player with amp and surround sound speakers - is fucked. All solutions on the internet suggest throwing it out the window. That’s Euro 300 out the window.

Next. I blew up the brand new fan/heater for my biltong box in a drunken rage which blew the mains. Somehow, in all this very confused situation, totally blind, I twisted my foot. Badly.
‘Sounds of Silence’? That’s for sure. Fuck all was working.

Returning the power on. Fine. Except the oven no longer works. That is because it is a
‘smart oven’. Lots of flashing lights and shit. Peeps non stop. I can read German, so found the instructions, but after many attempts to sort the clown out – concluded it should join the DVD shite out the window.

The only reason I did not was because I did not have the strength. Meanwhile, flashing pictures of barefoot peasants swarming over the Burma border, starving etc, is flashing on the tv. I am also barefoot, (odd
– is it not one foot but two feet? So I am bare feet?), left foot swollen and me starving because I cannot heat up my pizza.

Then
– all this juicy work to do. Hanging around is not good. At the firm, private, at home, some for D. News flash – all the peasants, half a million of them, all looking for a job. Yeah, come to Germany. What you skilled at? Fucking and popping out kids non-stop.

Next
– depression. Hanging around all day – more like hopping around = depression. Depressed – watch Teresa May getting a P45, coughing her guts up. All I could think of was I would love to do an up skirt photo. Nice long legs and cute jiggle titties.

The biltong is almost all gone. But
– I have concluded – Rhodies ALWAYS make plans. Suicide is painless. Shooting people from the 32nd floor is a real cheer up?

Of course
– nothing like some fish fingers and chips. I landed up shitting out so much plastic, I placed a recyclable bag in the bog. Problem though. I had to separate the bum swipe paper from the plastic bags I was crapping out.

Anyway
– foot loose – but not fancy free. Do I have a problem with my life? Hardly. Listen to FM radio – every two minutes they punch the loop tape ‘Have a happy day’, as they sack one of their top DJs. It’s a hard knock life. I wonder if that volcano will explode and Donald bomb North Korea.

Still
– hey, life as we know it, goes on. It is not at all complicated. You are born – then you die. In between you pay taxes. But not if you a migrant. Tax payers pay for them to sleep, not work and reproduce as rapid as rampant rabbits. I am a migrant. I have two children. But I am white and condemned. I must starve because my oven is too smart for me.

In conclusion -

I thank my fans for supporting me during this stressful time. The cure
– Don’t watch the fucking news!

PS
– just won the lottery. Hah. Built a luxury house in the Virgen Islands.  Oh fuck – a hurricane is approaching.

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