Friday, 13 March 2009

Night Vs. Day.

I don't like people. They're not very nice and they are always ugly. But they can be neatly separated into three piles.

Pile one is the ugly during the day people who are just fine with being ugly. Pile two is the ugly people at night who are terrified of their ugliness and try to hide it by painting their faces so it looks like they've got jaundice and dress as if they have more fuck holes than you can imagine. Not that you have to imagine because you can normally see at least 8 or 9 fuck holes at any given time. Pile three is some of my friends.

Getting the train back from gigs can be traumatic, depressing and very murdery because trains are normally full of pile two. Admittedly, I was a bit pile two myself last night. I'd just done a gig that went OK but I was watery-shit on stage due to being a wee little tiny bit ill. It's enough to throw me off completely. Any time I got a laugh I took a little break to just stand there and sweat and waver in the breeze. It was very odd. When I got on the train I listened to Adam & Joe. They made me feel better but they didn't stop me vomiting. It was one of those vomits that just rushed round completely unannounced. One second I was laughing at "Rancid Cow-Bag" the next I was holding a fistful of sick in my mouth. Everyone near me saw it and the noises I made in the loo trumpeted my proud finishing off of my surprise vomit or Christmas Puke, as I like to call it. I came out of the loo only to see disgusted faces looking at me. Thus making me pile two.

During my fifth and final train journey of the night I found myself surrounded by pile two. There were piles upon piles of pile two as far as the eye could see, not that you'd have wanted to open your eyes except maybe with a stanley knife. A louder bunch of aggressive, drunk, ugly cunts you couldn't wish to meet. Awful. I decided that I would go for a wee-wee. Well, my bladder did. I got up and walked towards the loo. What I didn't realise was that I was being followed by the two ugly sisters. They were behind me. BEHIND ME. The very place where I don't have eyes. "Oi", harked one of the little angels. "We're in there first." I didn't look round, I just kept walking. I don't respond to "Oi". I got to the loo, opened the door and walked in. Before I could close the door the ugliest one of the two (and that was some achievement) held the door open and said "You are fucking rude. It's girls before boys, don't you know that?" "Yep", I said. "If you're five." I then closed the door and had a really lovely piss. A piss is so much nicer when you know you're delaying a cunt from pissing too. "Fucking rude", one of the bags of peroxide and orange said as I passed them again. I didn't bother responding. If any of pile two hate you then you know you're doing something right.

Pile one is just plain weird. What is it with daytime people? Yeah, they don't have a job but surely you don't have to just spend your days shuffling around Sainsbury's looking weird and talking to yourself. It's just not good. Sainsbury's will give you a job for a start. No-one wants that. I see it every day. Weird, weird daytime people looking weird and doing weird things. Face it, I am one of them. They're also easy to freak out, Pile one. Pile one live in constant fear of being spoken to. They fear it because they know that the only people who would speak to someone in pile one are other people in pile one. That conversation could last days. You both want to stop but this might be the only chat you have for months because all you ever see is pile one. I may be slightly snobby here. My apologies.

Today I saw a classic pile one drop her pension book. She was quite old (obviously) and looked at the ground in case she accidentally made eye contact with another pile one. As she walked past me I saw her drop the pension book and as I love nothing more than helping my fellow man I decided to pick it up for her and give it to her. I said excuse me. She didn't respond and why would she? She is old. That's a perfect excuse to pretend not to hear another pile one trying to get your attention. I said excuse me again. I shit you not (mainly because I don't know how to) the old lady started speeding up. I had to do a little jog. I said excuse me again, this time quite loudly. Everyone else in the street turned round except for this slag. Eventually I jogged a bit harder and put my hand on her shoulder to get her to stop. Anyway, after she calmed down from her fifteen heart-attacks and started breathing properly I gave her her pension book back. Did I get thanks? NO. That is how pile one works. They are ugly people who shuffle around during the day in constant fear of their own kind. A random act of kindness only confuses and angers them. Good to see her shitting herself though.

I had been reliably informed via Twitter by Richard Herring and Alex Horne that James Corden's Comic Relief sketch is fantastic. I was very happy about this, you might be surprised to learn. I was happy that I might laugh at it and write about how wrong I was. Anyway, I saw a clip and that pair of pile one cunts are very wrong. Not only does it have chunky in it but it's about football. Fucking football. If only there's a bit where he cooks and eats meat then it will be my perfect anti-sketch. Still, the full thing is on Comic Relief tonight so maybe it'll get better. And you can imagine how much I love Comic Relief. If you can't then read tomorrow's fury filled blog. Thanks.

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