Saturday, April 19, 2003


Easter weekend! The celebration/memorial of the martyrdom and resurrection of Jesus bin Christ.
At least that's the theory.
In practice every fat bastard in England seems to have descended on Fleetwood Market to go shopping and get wedged between the stalls. To add to the chaos most of Britain's picked up on the Australian pastime of catching fire, huge swathes of moorland and forest now creating a thick black plume above this foetid island! And parents...what's wrong with you? Has the idea of controlling your kids become a quaint old thing of the past now, or have you just gone into competition with each other to produce the noisiest, most ignorant wankers in existence!
I'm smashed out of my head on morphine tablets with five gaping stab wounds in my belly and all I ask for is a bit of peace and quiet for forty winks. It's not a lot...it's been a difficult, painful week and even Iraqi prisoners of war deserve better than this! Jesus H. Christ himself didn't have an all out battle between his neighbour's radios when he was hanging off his cross! Cricket scores versus Terry Wogan versus crap eighties pop music, all increasing in loudness from every quarter of my once quiet close and snarling up into one thunderous cacophony of shit!
Kids thundering up and down the ginnel screaming violently as though the first glimmerings of sunlight have scared the crap out of them! Dogs barking at snails! Seagulls screwing arduously on chimney pots! The new neighbour smashing up his garden shed with what sounds like a bulldozer!
SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU INCONSIDERATE BASTARDS!!!
When I was a kid Easter consisted of pigging out on chocolate eggs and throwing up during Ben Hur on BBC1! There was none of this noise and traffic and frantic fat tossers squeezing into Fleetwood's tiny shops and then turning purple beneath the strain back then! Even the somewhat diminutive Easter Parade this year was squashed flat in the middle of Lord Street by fifteen coaches full of cripples headed for the Ice Cream Parlour.
If I'd have been Jesus confronted with this riot of mongoloid stupidity I'd have been glad to have kicked the bucket! And I wouldn't have bothered coming back again after three days either!
Now bugger off and let me sleep before I nail every last overweight, screaming bastard one of you up to my garden gate and stick a spear in your spleens! Inconsiderate twats! I'll give you fucking Easter eggs, rammed down your gobs with a broom handle with the Easter Bunny's headless corpse stuck up your arses for good measure!