Wednesday, April 08, 2009

Easter Rantin' #2 - Old is the New Young

Old People, living high on the hog, courtesy of your and my tax dollars.

As a wee small boy, I occasionally thought it was big and clever to cheek my elders. Not so much my parents and their generation, but Old People. However, it was soon brought to my attention, via a combined course of Good Hidings and school history lessons, that our senior citizens deserved our respect.

This was the generation that had fought in one, maybe two World Wars. Like on the telly and that. They defeated National Socialism, ended the holocaust and endured their lasses getting drilled left, right and centre by candybar-toting American servicemen.

Let us Never Forget the Sacrifices They Made.

That type of thing. Thus it went along, a generation of slackers grew up with a definite reverence for those who gave so much that we would be free. Quite right too.

However, it now strikes me that we are approaching the year 2010, where there will be Old Aged Pensioners who were born after the Second World War. This is quite a different kettle of OAP fish.

This is the generation that grew up in an era of free love, LSD, stack heels and mod/rocker violence. A generation that titted around in the seventies with their big hair, outsized collars and garish wallpaper. A generation that voted Thatcher and gleefully butchered the industries of mass employment while selling this country's infrastructure, utility supplies, water supplies, building societies, council houses, anything that wasn't tied down in Stock Market flotations for a few greasy quid to spend on Phil Collins CDs.

Quite frankly, this is a generation that can Fuck Right Off. And that's swearing.

Yet these grasping grannies and grandpas are sucking ever more cold hard cash from the nation's exhausted, dry teats.

They're getting free bus travel anywhere in the country, free swimming, free cash to spend on heating their houses in the winter.

I repeat, this is a generation that has had money flowing like water. If these greedy old bollixes haven't scraped up enough money over the years to see them alright, then frankly, fuck 'em.

These silver-haired shitehawks spend their days buying scratchcards and writing angry missives to their newspaper of choice about "how savers are the real victims of this recession".

Yes, it's all about the savers, apparently. Forget the poor people with bairns to feed who find that the price of basic foodstuffs has doubled. Put the plight of people losing their jobs and their homes to one side, here is the real tragedy. The poor savers, with their bungalow already paid off and a hundred grand in the bank, ARE ONLY EARNING 1 PER CENT ON THEIR SAVINGS!!! Sort it out Gordon Browns, these ould knackers with their spare capital doing nothing aren't earning enough free money from it. Cancel that overseas aid, we've got a humanitarian disaster on the home front.

Of course, with the way demographics are, the government can't afford to alienate these people, their votes are too important. However, I'm not the government and I can well afford to alienate them.

Firstly, fuck off until half-nine with your bus pass. Some of us have to get to work. That copy of The Metro is for people interest in Twitter and Lindsey Lohan and that, so gertcha! And you can go and tickle if you think you're getting my seat when it's busy. Have a lie-in, why don't you?

Secondly, stop fucking whingeing about your pension. I remember proper poor pensioners from the eighties, war heroes and that, living on cat food and chopping sticks for the fire in their back yard. You fuckers do all right, get your hand out our pockets, gramps.

Thirdly, clean yourself up, you stink of piss! Cos they do, don't they? Eh? The old people, with their beige clothes and that, they STINK. OF. URINE. Aaaah, eat that observation, oldsters, you've been, like, totally merked, punked and pwned! EPIC FALE!

Hasta la easter, creature features!

Easter Rantin' #1 - Re: 'cession

Swab the decks, sex pests! The Colonel's here and he's street tuff.

If I had a quid for every person who sashayed up to my chaise longue, disturbed my rest and asked me "Ahoyhoy, old horse, what's going on with this recession and that? What's the dillio there, eh, jackson?" I would probably have about four quid. Enough for fish and chips. Nice.

Unfortunately, I don't get paid for being bothered by assholes, so I'll give you the lowdown here, save y'all interrupting my chillaxing time, capiche?

Well, first of all, there was the boom times. Remember them? Great weren't they? You and I, Average Joe and Josephine Sweatsock, continued to receive our normal wages while the only people making £££££s were the dregs of society; estate agents, solicitors, greasy-haired fat-tie-wearing soccer players, people in the cocaine distribution and retail industry, investment bankers. Cunts, basically.

Now, all of the money has gone. The bankers and the estate agents gave it to the cocaine chaps who, as any drugs Tsar could tell you, "used it to fund terrorism, the sex slave trade and stoving in the heads of puppies and ickle kittens with a spade".

Now, I have older friends who grew up in the eighties, when they used to have hard times. People had to duck, and to a lesser extent, dive to keep body and soul together. They would live on free school dinners, buy second hand clothes and wear two jumpers in the house to keep warm. And you know what, despite the poverty and the deprivations, life was pretty good in those days.

I joke of course, it was shite. Being poor is shite. And being poor is what people have gotten out of the habit of. Today's less well-off want regular top-ups on their mobiles, they want a muscular array of Sky channels, they want Nike Air Max trainers and they are quite prepared to get a credit card to pay for these things.

Except, now they won't get them. Worse still, we're all going to have to pay those debts back, because the people who lent us the money have spunked it all up the wall.

In times of stress, the English will stand shoulder-to-shoulder and search for somebody to blame. The obvious choice in this case is "the politicians". It is all too simple to deride politicians, local and national, as foolish, incompetent nitwits.

You will often see industrialists and business types tucking their thumbs into the armholes of their waistcoats and sounding off about Government Interference, Quangos and all manner of pettifogging bureaucracy "gone mad".

These pragmatic, hard-headed captains of industry are constantly bemoaning the fact that the government is wasting the Corporation Tax they haven't been able to evade on wasteful public servants and cap-in-hand scroungers and panhandlers.

They pour scorn on well-meaning do-gooder politicians, who don't know what it's like in the "real world", where our tycoons put their hard heads and balls of steel on the line in order to "create the wealth". If only you would be guided by us, by the markets, by the hard-headed, cigar chomping tax avoiding entrepreneurs and high-fliers, things might get done properly, they imply.

However, dear reader, because you see things with a keener eye than the putz or the fool, you, as I have done, will say "Stop right now, thank you very much, Mister Bidnessman, but wasn't it you and your stripey-shirt-and-braces wearing cunt mates that got us in this pickle?"
That'll stop him in his tracks.

Furthermore, these champagne-guzzling corporate cornholes don't have as many calls on their time as politicians. Unlike politicians, they don't have to run schools and hospitals, the scheduling of refuse collection and public transport matters not a jot to them. All they have to do is Keep On Making Money. From a position of strength, mark you. From a position of Having Loads of Money in the Fucking First Place. One job they have, just keep on grinding the nose of the worker into the dust and selling him ringtones and home insurance and wood flooring and expensive kitchenware and god knows what other shite.

And they failed to do it. They dropped the ball. They fucked up. The Porsche-driving, expense account lap dance receiving cokehead cunts.

Yet still you see them, blithely lecturing all and sundry about tightening belts and fiscal prudence on Newsnight and on Andrew Marr's Show. and Partyland TV and Babestation as well, probably.