Life Insurance

I read some of the poetry I'd written to my mum the other day.

She said to me "haven't you got any happy ones?"

It had occurred to me that I was a bit of a miserable bastard, but then maybe I just enjoy a bit of misery? I'm like a young rhyming Victor Meldrew answering a puppy instead of a phone.

(I've never done that)

I think my first post on here would have been about two and a half years ago, and still minus a few stints into working life and a failed record deal I remain 'The Unemployedazoid.'

In the Job Centre on Monday a woman sat next to me breathing like Darth Vader would if he was being buggered by a large traffic cone. I thought to myself that that woman might have a decent excuse for not working. After all she looked as rough as she sounded and smelt a tad worse. To the best of my knowledge I smell pretty much on the right side of cat shit in an ash tray, and look the right side of poo stained pikey paedo, so what's my excuse?

Well, some people might call me lazy though I prefer the phrase picky or selective. Forgive me for not tripping over myself to become a salesman of life insurance but it seems to me like possibly the most ridiculous thing for anyone to actually want to do?

Type 'Life Insurance' into Google images and look what comes up. It's like a thousand perfect families frolicking on beaches and having picnics. Fathers happily throwing their children into the air safe in the knowledge that should they get terminal cancer or be killed in a freak road accident little Johnny can still get a PlayStation 4 next Christmas. Because ultimately life insurance is mostly about death isn't it? I suppose that death wasn't that popular in the advertising focus group though.

Anyway..

When I arrived at the interview for said job, I was told to take a seat in front of two blokes that looked a bit like they'd fallen out of a GAP advert. A boring blur of beige and cotton placed either side of a black plastic Christmas tree that divided them like some kind of strange channel 5 gay dating program. One of them had a note pad and a quiff of ginger hair, the other empty handed with a slightly blank stare. I cannot remember their names because both were instantly forgettable but I do remember one of their questions. I remember it because I'd been asked it before.

"So Unemployedazoid, if we were to offer you the job, where do you see yourself 5 months down the line?"

Now in all honesty I know the answer they were looking for. I had it right there for them. I'd say "Well I'd hope to be secure in my job and earning a good wage by hitting my set targets" or something like that. But I didn't. I said that I'd only just met them both and spoke to them for 10 minutes, and that for me to say where I saw myself in 5 months from now on the basis of that short conversation would be insane. I didn't give a fuck because I realised....

I don't want to sell life insurance.

Maybe a small part of me thought that they might see some charm in my honesty, but I'm almost certain they just thought I was a twat for waisting their time.

ZOIDS BACK!!

Still unemploid still not giving a fuck!

It’s been too long since I last had a go on a water slide.

The phrase “can’t please them all” is true. You cannot. But what you can do though is refuse to give the slightest fuck whether you please anyone at all. Then people might say “please yourself” and I will.

This might seem selfish but really what I’m saying is happiness within yourself is important. Guilt and shame are feelings pushed upon us by a society that in its majority doesn’t care. The media tells us what we should care about, wear, eat, think and how to act. This seems to just create larger gaps in social behaviour because in one sense we have endless choices but on the other hand we’re victims of our own surroundings. You can’t blame somebody you perceive to be complete human waste for your own judgment. They in all probability think its ok to be the person they are, the same as you might think you got your own shit together.

I don’t have my shit together. I lose my shit on the regular. The world in general confuses me beyond belief and I’m sure a lot of other people share that confusion.
My view in this blog, with the small amount of people that might look at it I realise is completely insignificant, but I feel like it’s becoming harder to care about things at all.

I bet you’d be more upset watching your family pet slowly slip away than watching a tsunami kill thousands of people in Japan in high definition. That’s normal. I only know one guy in Japan and I probably don’t know your cat or your pooch.

It’s hard enough to care about the things that are shoved in my face daily, let alone to think about all the shit that goes on that I don’t even know about?

People say “it’s a small world” but it’s not, it’s huge and full of dreadful things that happen every second of every hour of every day.

It’s been too long since I last had a go on a water slide.

Safety Christmas!!!

Hello you little fucking Elves!

This Christmas I would like to remind you all of the real reason we celebrate each year....safety.

This time of year the telly is filled with advertising campaigns deterring us from pretty much everything, from drink driving, Icy roads, Loan sharks and even leaving a Christmas night light on for your sprog. “Do you want to melt your first born child’s face off? Well do you?” The reason not to do these things can become lost in all the excitement of receiving the new Hollyoaks calendar and rubbing one out over your favourite McQueen sister, but least we forget, a minute of fun could lead to a lifetime of misery. This is why I have assembled my top ten tips for staying safe this Yuletide season. Please enjoy and remember..................

A Safe Christmas is a Happy Christmas! X

10. When buying a new Hunting knife for your cousin or younger brother, use the unemployedazoid scale of Age to Inch... for example 4 year old cousin Timmy can have a 4inch blade. 11 year old younger brother Andrew can have a small machete, but your sisters new born will have to wait as anything under 2inches just aint worth it hey ladies!? Haha aah knives.

9. When lighting the pudding try not to point the lighter and can of lynx directly at grannies face, besides upsetting her you might burn off her whole boat.

8. Putting up Xmas lights? “Not on that rickety old ladder you're not! Now put on these stilts clumsy!”

7. Try to avoid evil thoughts like punching babies in the face or shitting in the middle of the living room during the Queens speech, these things will almost certainly put a downer on the day for everyone else. Not to mention the health risks.

6. Remember Christmas 91’ that game of charades when you did Karate Kid? Aunty Brenda still hasn’t got the sight back in her right eye so pick a film with less movement, Schindlers List maybe or Glitter.

5. Dressing as ‘Old Saint Nick’ is a great disguise for paedophiles so make sure to ask in a clear and loud voice before letting young Suzy sit on his lap, “ARE YOU A PAEDOPHILE.” If the answer is yes, stay and supervise to assure there is no funny business.

4. Christmas is a time for all, even the Taliban like a slice of turkey! However if you do have any Muslim extremist friends over do ask them to kindly leave their bombs at home. Contrary to popular belief bombs are quite dangerous.

3. Drink responsibly, however if you can’t manage this when you are completely fucking smashed try your very best not to die.

2. Any board game can get competitive but violence never solves anything....... Apart from who is overall winner so if necessary get tooled up.

1. Dads, if you insist on dressing up as Father Christmas don’t forget to tell the wife. There is little more traumatising for the kids than waking up to see Daddy being beaten to within an inch of his life by Mummy with a teefal wok. Not only will it hurt but your kids will think you're an utter pussy for getting beaten up by a girl.

So there you have it, I hope these wise perls help you over this difficult time. If you found them useless then I hope you choke on a sprout.

Zoid. x

Mark Durden Smith... (Demon Spawn)

Mark Durden Smith

Twat Update.

Who the fuck does this absolute tit rag think he is!? Get off my telly you snooty overgrown quire boy before I ring your mother and tell her what a naughty bastard you’ve been.

Really does anyone actually like this wanker? He’s so condescending each time he appears on my goggle box I feel like I’ve been pulled over by police for a traffic offence, and it brings the same kind of dread. How can this antichrist have fallen from such a beacon of hope as his wonderful mother Judith Chalmers? Sweet Judith showing us all the holiday destinations we’ll never see with a friendly “wish you were here!” It’s like the British version of devil’s advocate but at least in that Keanu Reeves didn’t want to be the son of Beelzebub. Mark seems more than happy to bath in tubs of demon semen until his eyes glow red and he grows trotters. I keep half expecting “This Morning” to come back from commercials to show a satanic ritual of him sacrificing Holly Willoghby to his dad. Is she naked and strung up..... possibly..... I imagine so... makes sense. Anyway if that did happen Gino D'acampo would pull out his crucifix shaped Italian love truncheon and fuck Markelzebub back to hell while Phillip cowered in the corner like a little scared kitten, I’m sure of that.


Oh yeah and Kerry Katona can fuck right off too.

MORE LIKE RIP OFF YOUR CLOTHES BRITAIN!!!!

PHWOOAAARRR!!

The Unemploidazoid 2 (Return of the Slack)

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