HAIR OF DICKHEAD

I have been ill for most of the week, and now I am not.

Normal service shall resume next week. Perhaps.

However, I am in an intolerant frame of mind (illness will do that), and feel a need to say something, and this is it …

CAN WE HAVE AN END NOW PLEASE TO THE “SLAP-ME-I-AM-A-PREENING-WANKER HIPSTER BEARD FASHION THING” AS IT HAS NOW BECOME FAR TOO BLOODY SILLY FOR WORDS AND IS BEGINNING TO GIVE ME THE BOWL-SHATTERING SHITS EVERY TIME I SEE ONE THANK YOU VERY MUCH GOODBYE AND HAVE A NICE WEEKEND.

FUCK OFF YOU.

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THE BIG ISSUES

On my brief train journey to work this morning, looking at the passengers standing and seated around me, I began to notice the shoes the women were wearing, and I thought to myself, it occurred to me for the very first time, that outside of men’s ties, what utterly stupid, impractical, impossibly crackpot, items of so-called “fashion” they are.

What on earth is that thing for? Why do you have to, why do you choose to, tie those half dozen things up before you can walk in them? WHY ARE YOU CRAMMING HALF YOUR TOES INTO A SPACE THE SIZE OF HALF A VEGEMITE JAR WHILST LEAVING THE OTHER HALF EXPOSED?

WHAT IS THE FUCKING POINT OF THAT?

The simple act of walking, one step after another, one foot at a time (or both if you’re feeling gay and joyful!), is reduced to a Sisyphean task of confounding futility, a bootless exercise of self-inflicted tribulation, torment and woe, your only triumph to be had in getting from point A to point B without toppling into a gutter …

“The official dress code is explained to guests after they collect a ticket for their film … It is generally understood that men must wear black tie with black shoes and women must be elegantly dressed with smart footwear.”

Smart?

“Outside the Palais, 20-year-old Tami was one of many film fans hopeful of being given a spare ticket to the Tuesday-night premiere by a charitable delegate. She was carrying her high heels in a plastic bag.

“It says on your ticket that you have to be smartly dressed,” she said. “For women that means high heels. I wish we didn’t have to. They’re uncomfortable.””

There is nothing “smart” about three straps of leather and a heel the height of Hervé Villechaize that cause you to stagger about like a drunken wombat in the pursuit of “fashion”, and the people who make these things and expect women to wear them should all be stabbed in the fucking head with a pencil.

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I was initially going to title this post “You Look Big I’Shues”, but even I have limits.