Cak

In the words of the great 20^th 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.