Garry Potter And The Same Old Nonsense, David Backhim [the mitten read aloud txt] 📗

in various places in the sun? Consequently, middle-class people plunge themselves into mountainous debts in a desperate attempt to maintain their place in the chasing pack of the rat race whilst spending their week-ends in shopping arcades on another outing of retail therapy. Added to this, middle class people are the most vocal in their opposition to rates increases, income tax, and anything which threatens their unquenchable thirst for more riches. Yes, the loathsome bourgeoisie remain as greedy and selfish as ever. Ultimately, if you are good to every person you meet, and you bring your children up to be good to everyone they meet, then this is the only bragging right you will ever need. Instead of which, the chattering class think that their suit, shirt, tie, big car, and power dressing affords them respect. Could I possibly respect any group of people less?
Well, the answer to that is yes. There remains the aristocracy and the new decadent aristocracy, namely celebrities, who all have more money than sense and who lavish one another as if they grow fifty pounds notes in their garden. I recently had the extreme misfortune of reading a horrible magazine extract in which Tara Palmer-Tomkinson recalled how she had had a bad day, so her friend Robbie Williams went and bought her an obscenely expensive watch to console her. Dear God, what planet are these people on? Are there any good, sane people out there, anywhere? I am afraid that I have to concur with Jean-Paul Sartre who stated that ‘l’enfer, c’est les autres.’
GREAT BRITAIN
Almost one million men in the First World War, and nearly half a million men in the Second World War gave their lives so that this country could be free: free to produce and listen to dreadful pop music; free to binge drink; free to run riot at football matches and in town centres on Friday and Saturday nights; free to produce and watch tacky drivel on television; free to bully minorities and hate foreigners; free to be educated by tabloid newspapers. Isn’t it so comforting to know that the sacrifices of all those brave young souls was not in vain? Isn’t Britain just Great?

BRAGGING RIGHTS
I am gradually becoming disillusioned with the once magical world of football. The amounts of money earned by professionals is obscene, and in a world of poverty and starvation, footballers’ wages are an affront to human civilisation – such as it is. Nowadays, footballers ‘entertain’ with snarling, unpleasant faces, and proceed to surround the referees with their rage and scorn, when the official has dared to pronounce a judgment that is at loggerheads with their plans for world domination. Mis-behaving football players and tantrum-prone managers are horrible role models for impressionable young males.
As for the fans, the support of one football club frequently necessitates a fanatical hatred of rival football clubs. In truth, each major English football club has its’ own distinctive bragging rights, whether it be Arsenal’s ‘invincibles’ of 2004, Tottenham’s outstanding track record in FA Cup finals, Manchester United’s treble of 1999, Liverpool’s five European Cups, Chelsea’s back-to-back Premierships, or even West Ham United’s ludicrous claim of having ‘won’ the 1966 World Cup final. The list could go on to include, amongst others, Aston Villa and Nottingham Forest ’s European Cup triumphs. It seems that a football supporter clings on to his club’s bragging rights to compensate for his or her own personal under-achievement and inadequacies. One only has to observe the reactions of fanatical football supporters to a goal or a result to discover how earth-shatteringly important the occasion is. It is really tragic to think that an individual’s state of mind and general well-being is at the mercy of the outcome of a football match. Could there be anything more sad and contemptible?

P.I.G.S
Winston Churchill once remarked that cats look down at us, dogs look up to us, and pigs treat us as equals. Pigs, as we all know, are obese, gluttonous, and filthy. There are a lot of human creatures who could be equally described in such terms. I concede that it is all too easy to make generalisations, but hey, we are all guilty of it. Therefore, when I have a swipe at the binge-drinking, tabloid reading, soap watching members of our beloved society, I am referring to the pig-like behaviour of P.I.G.S, or people in general. Of course there are many wonderful people who have integrity, humility, and perform acts of kindness, thoughtfulness, and selflessness. My beef is with PIGS (people in general) who are loud, attention seekers, who lack intelligence, don’t listen to reason, and who throw numerous stones from within their glasshouses. Why are city centre pubs ( especially at the week-end) over-populated with herds of these PIGS? People in general (PIGS) fill me with dismay, but bravo to the good, sensitive, thoughtful people in this world. They know who they are.

BIG PEOPLE AND SMALL PEOPLE
Top military strategist and Chief of the Imperial General Staff for much of the Second World War, Lord Alanbrooke, wrote in his outspoken diaries scathingly of one or two colleagues, such as Field Marshal Alexander, and one or two exalted politicians, whom he described as ‘small’ people. It got me thinking that indeed there are a lot of individuals in our society who may not be tall in stature, but are ‘big’ people, while there are many more people who may be six foot or more in height, but who are essentially ‘small’ people.
Let me explain. Northern Ireland , where I grew up ( to a debatable extent) is full of small people. They consist mainly of big men who all choose to follow Liverpool or Manchester United because their mates do the same. They join a band or orange lodge because their mates do the same. They go boozing at the week-end because, guess what, their mates do the same. A sense of individuality and independent-thinking has been sucked out of many such people. Many young men ( and women) surrender their own sense of self-awareness to go with the flow and follow the crowd. People are petrified to dress differently or have attitudes contrary to their peer group. Do not be fooled, folks. Big men with tattoos, muscles, t-shirt, and jeans are frequently small people who are so insecure that they hide themselves in a group of so-called mates. They would cheerfully bring their mates along to their job interview or if they were having a bath. Just ask someone what they did at the week-end, and you will receive the predictable response that “me and my mates did…” and “me and my mates went…” Yes ‘small’ man, but what did you do?!
Hats off to the big men and women who can stand on their own two feet, who don’t have to cling desperately to fellow co-dependents, and who are not afraid of their own company. Furthermore, they don’t deliberately tailor their allegiances, clothes, and values to fit in with so-called accepted norms. To the big men and women who may not be tall in stature, who do not feel that they have to surround themselves with so-called friends, I salute you.

BANDWAGON-JUMPING
The great British media and public love nothing more than to indulge in their favourite pastime of jumping on a bandwagon. Let us observe the cases of George Best and John Lennon, two cultural icons. These individuals were the recipients of much scorn and tut-tutting during their lives, on account of their behaviour and lifestyle. Yet when they die, they suddenly have airports named after them and have lavish praise heaped on them by a plethora of bandwagon-jumpers. I sincerely hope that when I am finally pushing up the daisies, that those individuals who have frowned upon me and unleashed various abuse and disapproval when I was alive are at least consistent when I am deceased. To jump on any bandwagon and pay posthumous tributes to me would almost certainly prompt me to turn in my grave. Please don’t feel the urge to name an airport after me, although if you must, you can name a park bench after me. In fact, I promise to return and spookily haunt anyone who dares to start any chorus of ‘he was a wonderful human being’.

FUNERALS
A lot of people seize the opportunity of a funeral to take a day off work, put on their Sunday best, and then pay a moving tribute to the deceased, whom they hadn’t seen or spoken to for many months or years even. When I cease to be, becoming an ex-parrot, bereft of life, joining the choir invisible, I sincerely hope that a multitude of distant relatives and even more long-lost friends don’t come out of the woodwork, lay down their tools and overalls, and proceed to lavish praise on me. If they really want to pay their respects to me, my ‘countless’ legion of friends and relatives should maintain their attitude of apathy and indifference, as perfected during my existence. Let me rest in peace. Mind you, I do have a tendency to wake up once or twice in the middle of the night, so when I am ‘sleeping’ in my grave, I suspect that I will awaken every few years.

DEATH:A GOOD CAREER MOVE
If, like me, you are going nowhere slowly, money’s too tight to mention, or you are in a dead-end job, or you failed to catch the buses to love, happiness, prosperity, and success, perhaps death would be a good career move. It has certainly worked wonders for the formerly flagging fortunes of Kurt Cobain, Jimi Hendrix, John Lennon, Marilyn Monroe, Jim Morrison, and Elvis Presley, to name but a few individuals who have managed to successfully revive and /or maintain their careers without breathing a single breath. In fact, just consider the following lyrics:
“Suicide isn’t painless
It hurts like Hell
It’s set aside for the rich and the famous
A little suicide sells” (Morrison/Carter)