About me
Teenage motherhood is natural and great. So how did we come to think otherwise, in times of unprecedented wealth? What if, instead of vadge, old-time religions had declared that the big scary juju was FOOD? And people liked food a lot, at home, at work, hotels, all over? But when workers are distracted by delicious dishes, or have to go to the loo, GNP falls. That eats into tax revenues. By training superstitious old ladies the tax authorities get the word out that unabashedly enjoying meals makes you unpopular, lowlife, and shamefully fat. Meanwhile food shops would be piled high but the doors locked. People are able to see appetizing displays through windows, but can't just put their hands on it - thanks to Social Norm. Doctors, teachers and professional busybodies would be paid to recite ad nauseam how diners are diseased, uneducated and a social problem. That's your situation. Your vadge might be HMRC property, its use-by date nearer than you think. But I'm still hungry.
Essexboo's Bands
- the Dead
- Steely Dan
- Spice Girls
- Lords of Acid
- Little Feat
- Girls Aloud
- Frank Zappa
- Elvis Costello
- David Bowie
- The Doors
MY APPEARANCE
- Height5´ 8" (173 cm)
- Bodyshapeslender
- Haircolourblack
- Hairstyleshort
- Eyecolourbrown
- General appearanceEuropean/White
MY INTERESTS
- I like...girls who make a first move...just enough sex, food and money + togetherness
- I dislike...girls who want one thing... our loneliness + ni dovolj seksa, hrane pa denarija
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Looking for...
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Sports
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Music
- Experimental
- Electro Pop
- Drum&Bass
- dance
- Blues
- Bhangra
- Ambient
- Alternative
- 80s
- 70s
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Authors
About me
- Where I live[[---WARNING---THE FOLLOWING PROFILE IS UNSUITABLE FOR THOSE OF A NERVOUS DISPOSITION---]]. Now then. Are you by any chance bubbly? Are you putting your mouth, that you actually hope to get around my meat, up against some dirty arse-licking animal? http://www.vetmed.wisc.edu/pbs/zoonoses/ Are you one of those rare, exotic people, those followers of individuality who belong to the 41% of current carriers of hepatitis C virus infected by obtaining a lovely tattoo? http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2001/04/010405081407.htm Do you demand, as your absolute right, that I increase your chances of cervical cancer by wrapping my lovely dick in a chemical-coated rubber bag? http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nonoxynol-9 Do you love your government job, and the great levellers of the arts such as Bonfire Jovi and Leonardo daDanbrown? Are you among that rather disproportionately high number of once-married people on these sites who just happen to believe in Jesus? And do you have to stay right where you are thanks to your brilliant choice of career and babyfather? So you are a woman then! Was it all a bit of a laugh, this love thing? Did you think you had plenty of time for drinking yourself into a fat blob, before you were left not high and unexpectedly dry? Or is your true one and only, with whom you spend your happiest hours, actually a machine in a gym? Well, where would I find another like you? On the next page. And the next. And the next and the next and the next and the next and the next and the next AND THE ONE AFTER THAT. I could jettison a piece of frozen pee from a Ryanair 737 anywhere over the northern hemisphere and hit one such, probably on the stud in her perennially protruding tongue. As for the eternal students - will they never learn??? Perhaps you are even all of these. WHAT ELSE HAVE YOU BOUGHT? For I am interested in who you really are, the person who's left once all the things you've been sold are stripped away. Now that earnest politics and the counterculture have joined God in the boneyard - who ARE you? I don't want to be your friend. I'm not going to give you a free English lesson. I'm not going to marry to get you an EU passport, or to please your relatives, or for ANY other reason. I'm not interested in your genius plan for steadily increasing exploitation in parallel with ongoing intimacy reduction, whilst you exhaust yourself devoting more and more of your time to everything and everyone else except your LOVER. To save most of the rest of you the strain of further reading, I am the arrogant type of pervert, an uncanny replica of all the previous bastards you fell for, and after a reasonable amount of deep conversation I plan to lie and smell my way into your knickers. Following the Great Unpleasantness, maybe our heads will clear for long enough to make the world a little less ghoulish by mercilessly taking the mick out of it together via art and writing. I live in a beautiful area of central Europe which is unfortunately home to some fairly traditional (i.e. wrong) ideas about love and sex. Fact is, I'm the first person in this country to have sat in court and asked an overweight, scruffily-dressed Slovenian policeman whether he found any signs of homosex or communism in my house, under the perplexed gaze of an apoplectic bat judge and two respectable middle-aged Catholic ladies. It is just the latest in a long line of capably-handled Firsts and I want a girl who can match that or better, not some pea-in-a-pod nightclub customer. Why did I do that? See http://www.reefermadness.org/propaganda/rthages.html I love the bored two-faced small-town mentality: after giving you a brilliant welcome they can find ways to slag you off for completely opposite invented reasons at the same time. See the imported stripper. See the nice houses all in a row. Look! A foreign devil. Let's call him names and get his money! When, in a place like that, you're a girl-chasing gay pedo Satan-worshipping nigger-loving white gypsy drug vampire who (shock!) finds Led Zeppelin risible you know at least that you've got their attention! Briefly anyway. They're generally too drunk to remember what this week's ugly rumour is supposed to be. But there must be one. And if I don't like it I can go back where I came from etc. Anyway, on with the show. Where I live. I am a baroque property developer so naturally I live in a baroque property in the centre of one of yer best preserved medieval towns in Europe. It has survived over 600 years of drunken bodging from the local artisans, and it's got walls a metre thick. I'm very lucky, but luck is no accident. We make our own luck. Don't we?
- Where are you originally from?I'm a southerner born in London who bounced around England like a pinball before finally trundling off out through a small hole. England has some great comedy and music but the political atmosphere is unsuitable for a baroque property developer such as myself and the weather is going down the drain. Or rather, it isn't. Baroque properties offer good protection against the elements and are unpopular with the locals who prefer living in tower blocks or newer houses with their controlling mother, drunken dad, guilty daughters, mummy's boys, sad grannies and aunties and the odd uncle...so people here can generally only have it off in cars!
- Do you want to stay there?Definitely maybe as the baroque atmosphere is literally stunning. A European Capital of Culture 2012 is up the road. The culture is traditional Roman Catholic family mind control and sexual ignorance and hypocrisy. The average girl who is too young for me looks like a supermodel, but disappears about the age of 24, only to reappear 10 years, 300 very important exams and some 40000 gallons of vodka and Red Bull later looking like a prune which has spent some time down the back of the sofa but is now wearing a smart brown polyester trouser suit. She will produce 1.3 children during her fertile years. Signs of nymphomania in girls, such as legs, are quickly dealt with by a vicious rumour campaign. Or I guess granny could be easily persuaded by the priest to sign you over to the mental prison. One girl got a boyfriend when she was only 20! Her patriarch father made her go to the gynecologist, where she had her morals checked and was issued with a virginity certificate. Fact was, she'd tried to meet the criteria for European entry several times but was too clamped up. And the boys? One local rebel rocker I know has spent years on medication after showing an unhealthy interest in girls during his teenage years. But he recently lost his virginity. This unexpected development was possible because she wasn't from this country and had no idea about his terrible reputation as a notorious heterosexual. He is 25. Extreme perhaps, but not unusual. What are these poor kids up against? Something like http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=JZ0jRuASVEQ - ha ha! I don't know what Father Dougal McGuire's birds and bees talk is like that they get at school here but the result seems to be a huge school suicide rate and two very different sexes relatively terrified of each other. Naturally my attentions are focussed on the less anhydrous girls: undoubtedly they can walk the walk and talk the talk, albeit in a language variant even the next village might not accept. While I'm sure they love a laugh and a romance as much as I do, the effort involved in getting one to stop walking and put her vagina where her mouth is probably just isn't worth it for the minute importance these skittish ladies seem to attach to personal self-development of their cockwrangling skills. Maybe its me. Maybe I get lumped in with the Neanderthal youths who represent their median expectation simply because I have a 20-year-old's bum and a 30-year-old's willy. Rock 'n' roll would seem to offer hope. However, watching the locals trying to ape various alternative lifestyles from the 70s 80s and 90s whilst living with their mums into their 40s is a hilarious mess, and it is probably because of this doubt and uncertainty that they are so kind and tolerant. Which in turn - together with peace and quiet, very low crime, and free parking in the town centre on Saturday afternoons - is why it is easily the best place I have ever lived and considerably superior to anywhere I know in England. It just needs more spanking. And some new words for children to learn which do not translate as "shame hair" and "shame lips".
- What is your occupation?I'm over here to conduct a ethnomusicological postgraduate study funded by the Hard Rock Faculty at the University of Sutton Coldfield in conjunction with the British Pornographic Institute. "Heavy Metal Virgins: Selling the Plastic Hip Rebellion in an Introverted Post-Balkans Scenario" examines a typical imitation "anti-establishment" memeplex practised by the young natives in a remote European town, who are highway-to-hell shy ultra-conservatives. Same old bigotry, regurgitated rock phantasm. To gather data of interest to popular music corporations wishing to develop real change in these deprived areas they needed a very liberated English bachelor attempting to rampage his way through the local Catholic girls who are too young for him - with hilarious results! Actually no results. But I was occupied. So how do I compare on productivity, which is what this question seems to be about? This year another 1000 economics students are wisely avoiding producing anything by entering their first decade at the nation's universities. Oversupply of economists is now our biggest problem and due to the glut a fully qualified economist is worth only 29 cents. Their main uses are as doorstops and fridge magnets. One guy here - a huge sports fan naturally - has been studying economics for 14 years so naturally I was expecting an exciting conversation about the stock market, which I had been studying for about two months: sadly as he had no idea what volume, momentum or oscillators were the dialogue was uninformative and dead-ended - what I usually get with these education addicts. But he did know a joke in which a daughter, giving her Dad a blowjob, asks why he has shit on his dick - her brother wanted to go to the cinema too. Five minutes later he started telling it to me again, having completely forgotten due to his busy student vodka schedule. His girlfriend, a beautiful and refined professor of the history of language, hasn't heard it yet though. So it seems education is somewhat selective in its effects on intelligence. Selective blindness to the inherent disadvantage to the teaching profession of learning how to learn suits both supplicant and educator just fine of course. And so there is a law in Slovenia preventing photography as a business - unless you have undergone a long period of training and examinations. And the dangerous threat of unqualified photography is...? Non scholae sed vitae discimus. You can look that up. Don't be confused...THIS is that all-important MOMENT. Observe with sparkling precision why it is SOCIALLY ACCEPTABLE to study philosophy, but NOT TO ACTUALLY BE A PHILOSOPHER. Other (pre)occupations: my baroque telecommunications division will set up public wireless internet access as my baroque property is slap bang in the middle of a major tourist area. I'd love to do something commercially viable with art of integrity but I never do. At the moment I'm training myself to trade porridge futures. The interesting thing about being a porridge speculator is that you can sell porridge you don't have and buy porridge that you don't have to eat if you don't like porridge. In fact you never see any real porridge, just a graph about porridge that hasn't even been made yet. In the futures market, porridge can either be too hot, too cold, but either way it's always just about right. It's a bear market. In truth when it comes to business ideas I have more plates than I can keep spinning...but I will always be there to help people to get their oats.
- What have you done so far?After leaving home at 16 I lived in various comedic flats, shared houses, a derelict train, and a squat. To escape the home counties rat race (which I was losing) I removed myself to Lancashire where I sat in a council flat watching it rain sideways for three years. After hitch-hiking 20,000 miles I bought my first property when I was 23 but it wasn't very baroque. Of course a degree of backwardness is the price you pay for bargain property, and I soon became the first person to explain to the citizens of Lincolnshire that 20 members of Lincoln City Council had voted to chemically alter the population by feeding them diluted industrial waste from Europe's largest fertiliser factory at Immingham, which chemical is derived from scrubber wastewater, the basic process is: 2Ca5(PO4)3F + 7H2SO4 + 3H2O = 7CaSO4 + 3Ca(H2PO4)2 .H2O + 2HF More on this topic around here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/luqi/27894245/ Eventually I was driven out of my own home following a long argument concerning the difference between 0 and " " ...invented by Lincoln City Council. They are still drinking it. The local epidemic of kids with strange teeth and interesting behaviour will continue for many years to come and is very profitable. Their parents may still blithely assert that it's good for you.
- What are your future plans?Ideally I would choose to live in harmony as a threesome with a couple of beautiful, possibly mixed or different race ladies of different ages, of artistic or musical temperament, expert in the arts of love, independent, able to spell that word without an "a", strong, sane and capable of creating their own culture. I envisage a real, loving relationship, not just a sexual experiment. Of course a twosome is more likely, but I would like to know if three would mitigate the problem of ennui/entropy in relationships, without the deceit and sneaking around. Instead of obsessing over the fact that I'm looking at a computer, a book or another woman, and not you, you could instead keep each other occupied, with girly stuff, a big catfight about who is the most second-best, probably involving the phrase "you're the one who", freeing up time for me to get the money. Above all we would be solid friends, united, and with two gals to a guy you only have half as much GMI to deal with (though I get twice the PMS...hmmm). We could blow the locals' minds, confronting their religious dogma, sex hangups and race prejudices all in one go. This could only be hilarious - but edge work like this is dangerous too. If you're dazed by the speed at which Britain is unravelling, it would be nice to offer a hand to someone else who has reached the end of their tether with the British system and its nonsense; someone who is fed up with living under a constant cloud of fear stories, not to mention a constant cloud of cloud; someone who wonders why each little improvement the authorities think up makes life more miserable. And why you pay for that. Someone like you. However I am not responsible for your inertia regarding this, nor am I planning to be anyone's sugardaddy as I respect your equality and so should you. My baroque gaff is well sheltered from North Atlantic weather systems and romantic blue windless skies still predominate, with pleasant river breezes and the odd sexy thunderstorm. If the meteorological shit really hits the fan we can put our camos on and bunker down in my baroque cellar with my Viz collection, a year's supply of baroqued beans and plenty of robust Austrian toilet paper.
- Your perfect partnerIn my opinion there are a great number of potential perfect partners with all sorts of different qualities, and I am not sufficiently loquacious to describe them all! First though to the important question of worship: the Sun, the Moon, fire, a giant turtle, the One True God, the Other True God, Jesus, the Virgin Mary, Isaac Newton, John Stuart Mill, Engels, Lenin, Hitler, people with healing crystals, and The Spice Girls - all touted and worshipped as the one true way, all bent on world domination, and all of equal importance as religions in that they demonstrate that there are no simple answers, only simple people. The one thing that actually unites all the major religions is a sort of horror of female sexuality, which I don't share - even if you do. Of course even though I disagree I will respect your faith - and for the same reason, when you tell me that you are Napoleon, I will nod enthusiastically too. No partner of mine, perfect or otherwise, is any brand of godbotherer: if you've ever even considered believing it you're a nutter and you really bug me so I'll say bye bye! The Spice Girls are totally the best religion so far. I never donate, but I will shake it. Speaking of spice, I've never had a threesome or a one night stand, I've never set out to have a short term relationship and I've never needed a discreet encounter and I like strings on my fun. I don't rule much out today, because today I am a sex-starved studmuffin. If you're not an "easy lay" I'm afraid you're out as I don't have time to deal with your sex hangups and if you're all shy then what you need isn't a promise for ever, it's porn! Once and for all, I won't respect you any less, just so long as you're not doing it with other guys...yes, that's right, it's sauce for the gander only - but only if that's OK with you, and definitely not otherwise. One woman has always been plenty, but complacency is the enemy here. So for those of you who intend to remain difficult lays, or become one in the future, I leave you to your fate with the following advice. It is not approved by any government or religious authority. Or by your best friend - who I am afraid is an organism in her own right and therefore subconciously wants your love life to be at least as spaz as hers. Or maybe YOU are that best friend. So here goes. All you girls perpetuating the one about guys "just wanting one thing" have, ahem, missed the point. Seems to me many girls on here need reminding why they are single (again) in the first place: either their expectations were unreasonable or they partook too much of the chips and brown ale. There are some sad stories of abandonment and insecurity, I could complain just like them but would it make me attractive? I doubt it. And the biggest expectation, that men will somehow overcome their carnal lusts before they actually get any, is the dolly daydream of them all. As ALL guys want sex the only thing that girls who are stuck on this one are going to get for their efforts are the smoothest, most patient liars. Or someone with no sex drive. Considering ALL guys want sex you aren't actually a very interesting prospect. Your notion that you are up there deciding when to have sex and he is down there waiting for his big chance to make YOU feel nice is not a modern, liberal, egalitarian or enlightened view nor is it a replacement for communication. Pretending it doesn't matter because you're no good at it won't do either, I'm afraid. Luckily the guy you get after the shag isn't the guy you met earlier, but a more confident, sensitive and well-rounded individual. He's asleep. So come on girls, knockers out, knickers left, it can hardly reduce your chances of getting what you want. The more you disagree with this analysis the more likely it is you keep...a pet...see below.
Stuff I like
- What are you interests/hobbies?Mainly taking the piss out of other people's. I do take quite a few photos though, and I do like to write stuff sending up the dictators of the great British nanny state, e.g. http://www.flickr.com/photos/luqi/95443455/ ...It's the nanny that looks great at the interview, then returns your baby with a half eaten Big Mac and covered in cigarette burns.
- MusicBaroque 'n' roll! Eclectic tastes. Unlike many baroque property developers I do not like classical music as it evokes an era of impregnated servant girls. Is that what you want? Coz that's what you'll get if you listen to it. Heavy metal and its paradoxically pliant ovine adherents are not for this consumer. Do you like Celine Dion? You should consider whether you are in fact a robot. The works of David Bowie, Elton John and early Roxy Music are considered too gay and are outlawed in this country (Law on National Sexual Insecurity RS448/99) whereas traditional music is essential listening at every level (Law on Enforced Polkas, Tedious Yugorock for Drunken Same-Sex Dancing and Backward-Looking Sentimental Nationalism in the Arts RS0001/91). I prefer to unleash a loud metal electroslap noise from Garcia upon the unsuspecting passers by my baroque windows. The Zen Tricksters are good too. I can play the keyboard quite badly. Music education is taken seriously here and talent abounds. During one particularly puritanical period musical instruments were banned here in shameville.
- Your fav tv seriesI got rid of the TV after I realised that out of 50 channels the only thing worth watching was the porn, which would mean I was paying for porn, which I consider unethical. Things I have admired include Green Wing, The Day Today, Brasseye, Peep Show, The Rise and Fall of Reginald Perrin, Garth Marenghi's Darkplace, Spaced series 2, Never Mind The Buzzcocks, HIGNFY, Dave Allen, Later With Jools, Big Train, Just For Laughs, Candid Camera, My New Best Friend, Ali G, Smack The Pony, Coupling, Not The Nine O'Clock News, Smith and Jones, The Comic Strip, The Office, Extras, TMWRNJ, Fist of Fun, the Kombat Operas and, for some reason, Without A Trace. It would probably tell you more if I mentioned that I liked Only Fools and Horses less than any of the above, and Last Of The Summer Wine wasn't very funny at all really.
- Your fav books/authorsI'm more of a non-fiction guy. I used to read more. I lost my attention span somewhere between being stabbed in the neck with a broken bottle for saying Hitler was a bit of a cunt - apparently if you're a neo-Nazi or in charge of allocating police resources in Lincoln he wasn't - and the invention of the internet. The best books I've read are probably Milgram's one about his fake electric shock experiments and A Theory of Cognitive Dissonance by Leon Festinger. My philosophy tip as a baroque antianthropocentricist is The Human Evasion by Celia Green, which you can read in its entirety here actually: http://deoxy.org/evasion/ There is a question here about what my partner should read, which I didn't know I could do. You can't read Mills and Boon, Danielle Steele or Catherine Cookson but you can read cookbooks, books about art, IT and domestic appliance manuals and any books which will help us make money.
- What sort of movies do you like?I like the funny ones and Borat and Shaun of the Dead would have to be top at the moment. Anything to do with post-war Italian Neorealism is at the bottom at the moment, the editing looks so lame these days and they look like they were filmed by candlelight - they're chock-a-block with snogging opportunities though...you can snog all the way through, in fact. Dodgeball, Mars Attacks and I Heart Huckabees deserve a mention. A long view: One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest, Apocalypse Now, and anything with Depp of course.
- Types of people you like?I don't take myself seriously. To a reckless degree, in fact. And it's a problem when I forget what a bunch of humourless gits other folks can be. I would rather be engaged in witty piffle than moneygrabbing, so if you're looking for a chisel-jawed tennis-playing executive type you had better go slap on another 5mm of foundation, pack your egowagon and take your glittering, insincere self to St Tropez. At the other extreme, hairy girls with tons of spots, your high testosterone levels make you horny but the very thing that makes you rich makes you poor, in the self-deprecating irony department. Even on a council estate there are funnier things to do than incite violence by circulating epithets about people. Much of what I find likeable about you concerns what you do not get yourself involved in. Take the war. I am flatly uninterested in you if you chime with the statement "Well I'm against the war but of course I support our troops." For pumpkin-face Gordon Brown wouldn't be out there dodging roadside IUDs himself if he couldn't manipulate some dumb kid into doing it. Most of these wannabe heroes eventually work out they were prize mugs to get themselves into that situation. Yet they must be entirely responsible for their insanely obedient actions otherwise they would have been too mad to be let into the forces to begin with. But there is another consideration: "If you're not willing to die for something you're not willing to kill for something. If a soldier puts his life on the line, he's willing to die for what he believes in, then that gives him the dispensation from God to take life for what he believes in." Our troops are fighting for their country? The problem here is, they're not your troops, they're somebody else's. And it's not their country; that's someone else's too. All that leaves is the fighting. Which can be conducted much more cheaply in Egham High Street, probably by the same people. And the quotation? Charles Manson (interview with Gerald Rivera). If you're out of luck and out of work, we could send you to...Basra! Here's what I think. Some aluminium tubes, some forgeries about cake and a Curveball do not a $456 billion (and counting) case for war and occupation make. So you're upset about something or other, and determined to join? Well it might seem like the most important thing right now, but by the time you realise the people who sent you down there didn't have a leg to stand on - you won't either! If you disagree and think these morons deserve applause it's probably for Nietzschean reasons: you work in healthcare, for instance. Health carers are the traditional allies of the bomb and shoot and burn brigade: it's so much more glamorous and worthwhile than getting punched by drunks in A&E. It'd be a better idea if our warrior classes were required to sign away their rights to medical care upon joining. Anyway, if you come home smelling of blood and cordite I won't fancy you and that's that. Therefore it appears that I'm not one of the lads: I prefer female company. Women are smarter than men - at least when they're not imitating them. Whatever your reasons for wanting me out of the way playing games or engaging in other pursuits that you secretly consider infantile, the sad news is that I know they are. Most man-imitating women seem very uncomfortable with that. You will not be mentally ill and in need of constant attention, as you will know that a mental illness is the same as a fictional illness. You will be able to stand the strain of these extraordinary ideas due to your rock solid flexibility. You will be confident but not brash. Not the timid hide-behind-the-internet type. If you don't know me well enough after reading this lot you never will. The maximum number of chat messages you can exchange before you call me is 1. I don't use MSN or Yahoo. I do use Gmail and Skype. If you're scared of people who come from the internet because you saw it on TV, then why not stay safe and meet people the sensible, old-fashioned way: go out, meet a load of random drunk guys interested in aggressive competitive sports, war and childish video games, drive around for a bit and shag in an alley. This dangerous new technology called "speaking on the telephone" is also very risky as I might find out you have a squeaky voice, or nothing to say. If you use it to call a strange man like me you're nothing but a tart. But you could invite a girlfriend to come along and put the phone down after a certain time, to keep up appearances. Lastly, a quick word about embarrassment. No.
- What kind of people do you find attractive? A very tall man who knows he's got it made because his Dad works at the chicken factory blows smoke in my face and shouts drunkenly in my ear, asking what football team do I support, do I like to fuck bitches, and why am I not drinking? A highly qualified postgraduate who writes "web sight" expresses her individuality by doing the same things that all the other individual people do, i.e. covering herself in third-rate tattoos and having lesbian sex whilst bungee-jumping off the Post Office Tower covered in deadly scorpions. Everything the opposite of those.
- Food I like cooking and I have few dislikes. People who make it really difficult by clinging to their ridiculous childhood phobias about fish, tomatoes and mushrooms, or any basic culinary ingredient, are just spoilt brats and a nuisance and I won't cook for them.
- DrinksAre really cheap here. Which is a good thing and a bad thing. Fortunately it's all concentrated at the weekends, but if you're an alcoholic-in-waiting it's probably better if you don't come around here. Here's how it works: the girls are warned by mum and grandma not to end up in some village in the middle of nowhere being beaten up by some chauvinistic alcoholic like they were. So the girls tell the boys to shove off and they go to college to better themselves. The boys, noticing the girls are in the college, and figuring qualifications will make them richer and more attractive, follow the girls to college. As they would be gay if they didn't do what the other boys did they do what they are supposed to do: they drink and drink and drink and drink and drink and drink and drink and drink. This makes them incredibly perceptive and sensitive. The girls become less and less interested. So the boys drink more. As C2H5OH makes you kind of woozy and CNS depressants shrivel your nuts an Austrian millionaire pays a pretty girl (who has no idea why but is hardly likely to argue) to sit behind an big plastic advert in the club suggesting subliminally with the words "red" and "bull" that you're going to be horny if you add that. So you add 1,3,7-trimethylxanthine dependency to your alcohol dependency. And to stop you getting a fat bum and taking up too much floor space in the pub 2-aminoethanesulfonic acid, an important ingredient of cat food, is added too. Ever see a cat with a fat arse? Suitably enlivened you are able to drink for longer. Eventually the girls, who as students must also drink or be left out, begin to worry about their spinsterhood and diminishing appearance and cop off with the most energetic-looking guy. Both are now well on the way to becoming alcoholics. Their educational years have consisted mainly of learning to drink and forgetting everything else. They cannot afford to live where the money is. For some reason they are now drinking a lot of coffee. Their hand-eye coordination is poor. Their backsides are tiny. Accurate spanking becomes impossible. The woman wonders what happened to the energetic young stud who now spends all day sitting around in bars. The man wonders what the fuck he is supposed to do about her interminable complaining. Not being antianthropocentricists, both have done what society expected of them and firmly believe they are in the right. They retire to a village in the middle of nowhere to blame each other for the brain damage and lost years...
- HolidaysI don't believe in taking holidays. I prefer to live and work in such a way that I don't need a holiday from it.
- Pets...and pet neuroses go together. That snap of you on the dating site clutching some bewildered animal says it all about your true emotional capabilities - you have more feelings for the opposite species than for the opposite sex. In a relaxed moment you are somehow able to achieve enough childlike credulity to imagine that this speechless, cortically-inadequate and genetically incompatible hairy bunch of gustatory and heat-seeking drives is your lover (deny here). If you have animal responsibilities you can stop right now thank you very much if you want to get with me. Pets and the Pope (see above) are why I am on this site. Lady, your company is not worth having our possessions scratched, gnawed or clogged with biological fluff. This in turn is not worth the money spent on pet food and the veterinary empire (thanks Rolf). Nor worth introducing all those flies and ground-up spongiform offals into the kitchen where your compulsory companion must, for reasons of anthropomorphic miscategorization, dine. Somewhere near the washing machine, right? Pets, as a vector for MMTV-type viruses, may give women breast cancer: http://news.independent.co.uk/health/article3088030.ece A useful guide to the health dangers of being a philosophical dunce can be seen at http://www.vetmed.wisc.edu/pbs/zoonoses/ Here's how it really is: http://209.157.64.200/focus/f-chat/1894210/posts ...Probably these facts are not going to make you relinquish little Gnasher. That has cost you dearly, dear, because he won't be meeting me. Life is short and the amount of time I will waste on this is none. I can enjoy all this time and money with a cleverer woman who has better things to do than lug home bags of cat food and scoop poop in the park. Here's the latest one. When I left England I had a partner of three years, who came with me and helped me find a baroque property to develop. After a good deal of dodgy compromises and general imbalance in my love life I had finally found my real soul mate and I was so happy. As soon as the money for the house had been paid and escape from the feral East Midlands was guaranteed she decided to stay in England and go back on the completely unnecessary and unsexy antidepressants I had spent three months helping her to kick...so she WOULDN'T HAVE TO MOVE THE CAT. Yes, folks, I was dumped for a cat. Pets and pet people, move on now. Believing in both pets AND holidays is the stuff of the worst kind of woman. Do we not mostly understand what kind of peabrain keeps a bird in a cage? Keeping a Great Dane or an Afghan Hound in a city is the same. Keeping pets is often unintentionally cruel, and if you get one unexpectedly I'll prevent this cruelty with the 12-gauge that we baroque property developers from Essex all have. So it's bye-bye to the British girls who can't actually relate to homo sapiens. I'm so jealous. You have a companion who doesn't answer back, actually loves you and is always hungry? So you are already seeing someone, right?
- Fav thing...apart from keeping you really horny, has to be my baroque property.
- Fav Place...apart from watching the moon rise over the restless Schamhaar Valley, my baroque property of course!
- What's your favourite radio station ?I'm a Radio 1/2/4/6/7/B92 sort as I like to hear what the intelligence services want me to think.
- What's your favourite tv station ?No TeeVee!
- What's your favourite drink?PeeGee Tips!
- What's your favourite food?Well I can get pretty obsessive with a watermelon. Edible items largely unavailable here include curry, poached eggs in an egg-poacher shape, baked beans, trifle, guaranteeably BSE-free jelly, fish and chips, sweet potatoes, cucumbers without bark, salad cream, Marmite, custard powder, peanut butter, fig roll biscuits, all other kinds of interesting cakes and biscuits, Cheddar cheese and yams. Don't come around here with your foreign rubbish though. They prefer traditional treats such as mechanically deboned chicken residues blasted off the carcass with high-pressure steam jets, mashed up with monosodium glutamate and extruded into a sausage shape held together with vivid coloured plastic. If it's not traditional like that they won't touch it. And if I don't like it I can go back home. Oh...this is my home. Hampers of tuck always welcome.
- What are your favourite activities?During the dormouse hunting season I ride out like the Devil, clicking, whistling and making a hullabaloo while herding dormice through the night-time woods. It's very exciting although the season is very short. If you are interested in dormouse hunting you can learn more at http://www.glirarium.org/dormouse/cult-slovenian-myth.html As for the rest of the year well I'm just waiting for the dormouse hunting season to come round again and I can usually be found eating a three course dinner in a canoe. The remainder of the time my favourite activity, if I am going out with someone, is helping her as best I can to get what she wants. No, leaving her alone, she doesn't want that now. No, helping. No, leave alone. Oh I don't know.
My attitude
- Family lifeHappy families: Ironically in view of my immigrant/emigrant status mom and pop are sendumback racists, convinced that new housing developments around the Metropolitan Borough of Stansted Airport are being built exclusively to be given away to asylum seekers, who will thus be saved the difficulty of travelling further afield, propagating instead like colonies of mould. Tellingly they have never once escaped UK orbit in their Daily-Mail-based lives. As I am myself a refugee of sorts, how would they feel if I was treated, in my new home, in the ignorant, generalised, thoughtless way they wish to see "foreigners" "dealt with" there? When I interrupted one recent rant to point out that I'm a foreigner now, they completely missed the point, assuming I was joking. But it's not a joke. And that's the difference between theory and experience. A year abroad among if not hostile then at least slightly resentful natives should be compulsory for all Littlejohnites. Your interracial journey as a foreigner is complete when the frustration on the supermarket security guard's face at the fact that you are not, after all, the shoplifter you ought to be, becomes palpable. Not that I would want to palpate his face. Wedded bliss and the patter of tiny feet: I've never been married thank Bog, and I've no kids. One died in utero before anybody knew it existed and three more have gone up the hospital chimney for anyone who wants to know. The reasons were money, insufficiently baroque living conditions, then a bunch of really nonsense reasons which really fucked me up in one case, and finally because of the previous one in the case of the last one. Marriage causes immense damage, is at best pointless, and should be banned...except that would just make people want to do it more. Anyone who kicks off a family with me now had better be young enough to keep it going after I peg it.
- Jobs&WorkingI have decided it is better whenever possible to get other people to do the work, unless it's something artistic or interesting, but when all the people who are supposed to be specialists in something turn out to be idiots I just learn it and do it myself. Hard work is definitely overrated and didactic promotion of it as a virtue in itself is really only a special example of schadenfreude. As for me, I'm attracted to automatic money without the need to handle any stock or meet any customers, without somebody telling me what to do and when to do it - and I will particularly love it if it involves loads of obscure jargon. But unfortunately being on the dole is too much like hard work. As a next best I'm teaching myself to be an online futures trader. Luckily there's a world stock market crash due any time now [written in 2005 - see? I was right!]. So if anybody is a fan of Fibonacci or cares to discuss porridge speculation strategies using Ichimoku Kinko Hyo don't hesitate.
- MoneyAs someone who spent his best years volunteering like a saint for a misunderstood cause and who not only received little gratitude but was actually damaged by the very people I tried to help, you can bet I want the money now. And while we're on the subject, how do you fancy spending £297 per sexual encounter with your loved one: http://www.cumberland-news.co.uk/unknown/viewarticle.aspx?id=525191 ...as part of your economy? All so you can't have a threesome. If you're breathing heavily after reading that come back and get a sensible number - mine. Oh, and no prostitutes thanks - who do you think you are!!
- Politics"Where the State ceaseth, there beginneth that man which is not superfluous: there beginneth the song of the necessary man, the single, irreplaceable melody." So now we are intimate. Intimacy is what you wanted. You know this much about me, and I know that you like havin a good time n clubbin wiv yer m8s. So perfect harmony has been achieved. Clearly you are a nice single girl who doesn't just drop them for anybody. But frankly if it's come to this you eventually will. You wanted honesty, but if you have read this far you probably wish I had less to be honest about. You wanted excitement, but because you are frightened only excitement of a shallow, inauthentic and above all saleable variety is permissible. Why indeed would you pick someone whose honesty and depth renders them totally "unsuitable" from the outset when you could simply wait to be deluded by some random, harmless-seeming simpleton proffering flowers and chocolates...the commercially obtainable symbols of love he has been trained to supply and you have been trained to anticipate...and coaxed into some imperfect "romantic" situation under the radar by your own physiology? I just can't do bland and inoffensive, but you will be undeceived. Remember when you voted for that nice Tony Blair? Whereas I can offer the imperfect situation immediately and I'm sure you will too. I'm ready to jizz on your tits now. Not interested in my simple pleasures? How about writing something that'll touch my heart or make me laugh? Can't do complicated pleasures either? In that case it's no fun for you and me. If by some odd quirk you are aiming for kids may I recommend my Guide To Males for Successful Breeding: What To Look For: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1pEKCnowbus&feature=related But hurry, there are only a few of these specialty males left...Righto, it's time you got back to slogging your guts out for cash to hand over to the newsagent, travel agent, Ann Summers agent and of course the dominant force in your relationship - the vet. Once more, I don't hate animals. That's why I'm not having any. But it's not all bad news on the pet front. Vetspeed, operators of the Europe's largest pet crematorium in Cambridgeshire, reduced its emissions of dioxins and furans by 85 per cent and total particulates by 15 per cent after the Environment Agency "encouraged" the company to improve its abatement plant, management techniques and maintenance... http://image.guardian.co.uk/sys-files/Guardian/documents/2003/07/30/spt_2002full_523404.pdf The largest in Europe?? Maybe this is just the one place in the UK like Europe, where humans are the priority animal after all. Horseburger, anyone? Dober tek pa na svidenje!
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