Wednesday, April 25, 2007

Cak

In the words of the great 20th Century philosopher Alexei Sayle, don’t people talk some fucking cak?

I have been out today. I don’t get out much these days – work at home, occasionally communicate with other humans non-electronically, but generally have little in the way of social intercourse.

Today I went to London on the train. Don’t people talk some fucking cak? I have never been one to subscribe to the concept that my private conversations are of interest to the entire planet. On the contrary, I recognise that they are seldom of interest even to my conversatees, and therefore tend to talk less than most people. I have, however, noticed the trend that people talk some fucking cak. Shut up you bastards. I don’t care about your pox ridden families, your lobotomised friends or your dreary careers. Keep this information to yourself. Or start a blog about it and bar me from it.

I take my responsibilities here very seriously, which is why the posts are laden with valuable information, steeped in the truth and always written in a charming, clear and friendly way. I do not, however, foist my views on the world. I am sure that there may be a few (a very few) members of the species out there who do not view my writing as the epitome of wisdom, and choose to disregard my advice. That is their choice, I bear no malice. (Twats).

I am afraid to say that most of the people today who were guilty of talking fucking cak were of the younger generation. This excludes the lady this evening who seemed to think that everyone in the railway carriage wanted to know what Tim’s problem was, even when it was perfectly obvious that his biggest problem was that he moved in social circles where people talked fucking cak. Loudly.

I suppose it is inevitable that as I approach the prospect of being stuck in a box and buried (ecologically of course), that I should start to have a jaundiced view of youth. I have managed to put off this symptom of being a crusty old bastard for quite a long while, and in general I find most young people better company than older ones, on a one to one basis, but when they gather together, they seem to have perfected the art of talking fucking cak much better than their elders.

To illustrate the point that I prefer the company of young people, I should tell you about my new friends who have included me in their new email group. Yes, thanks to my having a gmail address made up of just my name with no numbers or special characters, I sometimes get an interesting email intended for someone else. I am now in negotiation to join a rock band as bass player. I suspect the band is in the United States, and this may create some logistical problems. I guess I will just have to play louder to be heard. I do not know the name of the band, or even whether it has a name, but I would welcome your suggestions. In the meantime, one of their number sent me an email consisting of the words “Hey dude … sup”. I replied “Hanging”. I hope that this did not expose me as one of the uncool. Again, your advice and views on this are welcomed. Rest assured, I will not let my new found fame affect me. I will continue to be known by the name I use here, I will probably not alter my appearance, and will not appear in a promotional photograph looking surly. I will resist the temptation to sleep with legions of teenage fans of either sex. I will not get a tattoo or a piercing. I will not throw things out of hotel windows, or appear on stage in an indecent way. I may, however, should the opportunity arise, shag Marianne Faithful. I will let you know.

In the meantime, here are some happening dudes, rock and fucking roll.

16 comments:

Richard said...

You went to London, what on earth were you expecting? So good to see you down with the kids though. Have you got a sk8board yet?

ziggi said...

Poor Tim, I hope he'll be better soon.

Vicus Scurra said...

Richard, I assure you my expectation level was set to minimum. Sup?
Ziggi. Don't bother too much about Tim. I will take care of it.

Dave said...

Lovely video.

I am the youngest person for twenty miles around here (retirement coast of North Norfolk) so my place is the groovy centre of the area.

Dave said...

Is there anything worse than listening to someone else's telephone conversations on the train?

Yes. Reading about them, second-hand on a blog.

*Grunts. Pulls hoodie up. Slouches in corner*

Vicus Scurra said...

Well, excuse me for bringing a little of the vibrancy and excitement of life in the capital to your little colonial backwater.

Dave said...

Brilliant response. I shall use it on my blog.

I, like the view said...

I could make some really pertinent comment about living in the capital, being in a band and being vibrant and exciting

but you'd take it the wrong way


so I'll join in the misery instead:

I hate having to listen to other people's conversations on trains, sometimes. . .

depends what mood I'm in

Vicus Scurra said...

ILTV. I think I was on the train with you yesterday. You were complaining to a friend (a very unsavoury character) about some blogger or other who you were convinced prejudged you at every opportunity. I have never heard such drivel.

Richard said...

I believe there used to be some kind of device that when used in the vicinity would render mobile phones useless by emitting a frequency challenging blast of white noise or a high-pitched screech. I wish that I had had access to one of these the other week while in the post office the other week and had to listen to some woman moaning about "the Paki" who phoned her up about her ebay sale at 10pm. Mind you, a baseball bat's probably the only language these morons understand

Richard said...

That would be the other week. Tip: don't wash up halfway through writing a comment.

Vicus Scurra said...

I was not referring to users of mobile phones on this occasion. These were all people talking to friends/family/colleagues, all talking fucking cak without the aid of technology.
South West Trains provide carriages on some trains that are "quiet zones", where mobile phones etc are theoretically prohibited. On almost all journeys there is at least one utter anus who believes that this does not apply to them, but yesterday, by way of an alternative, I was treated to organic communication. It is no different. You just get to hear both sides of the fucking cak.

Richard said...

I can take inane organic conversations. I often find myself "off on one" or "in the zone", imagining these people's little lives. It beats reading the Daily Express anyway.

I, like the view said...

sorry to disappoint, t'was not I

noone I know blogs, so I don't talk about it to anyone; any other drivel, I would take full responsibility for - but not on this topic

;-)

but hey! at least you're now being as consistently rude to me as you are to all your other cyber chums. . .

*feels chuffed to bits*

:-D

Tim said...

I have taken your advice Mr Scurra and applied the ointment that you recommended, however it has left a rather obvious orange staining which may inhibit my performance with ladies (wink wink) how long before it fades?

Vicus Scurra said...

ILTV, I see it as my duty to make sure everyone feels at home here. I am so glad that you have settled in.

Tim, it is no use your asking me about medical treatment, let alone "performance with the ladies". The position I affect is that I know little of these matters. This may not be entirely honest, but it saves me from indulging in unpleasant conversations. It was not I who advised you to smear yourself with any substance, and I think that your contention that orange staining will be an encumbrance defies the record of George Hamilton.