Great, Now we're all con-dem'd!

What a disappointment.

Now I’m eighteen, I got the vote for the very first time. There I was, strolling down my road on an overcast 6^th of May until I saw that iconic sign attached to a local primary school: “Polling Station”. I mean, what could be more fun than going ‘Polling’?!

Upon reading that sign, I shot back up the road with all the urgency of a man caught short after eating a dodgy kebab – donned my bike’s crash helmet, and wrapped myself in my bed sheets in order to provide myself armour from the “Polling”. Slowly and surely, I worked my way back to the station – took a deep breath – got ready for a “polling” of my lifetime, and with an almighty scream, kicked the door as hard as I could before doing a back flip into the room so I had the element of surprise.

When my feet made contact with the floor, and my vision stabilised – what did I see? People fighting with polls? Polls being used to volt MPs into the world of politics?

No.

I saw 78-year-old Maureen. She stared at me as if I were possessed – and silently slipped me a “polling card”. No violence, No polls – Just cross the box and get out. I hadn’t felt that low since my mum sat me down, and told me that Santa wasn’t real…Just one week prior.

Anyway – Unless you’ve been living with your head under a rock for the past month, you’ve probably noticed that David Camwrong is now our PM. Which is fantastic…If you are rich! Yes, he’s “Toff on crime, Toff on the causes of crime” – but what did Gordon do wrong? Yes, he called that bigot a bigot – but who cares what he says in the privacy of his own car? I’m sure Camwrong says much the same in the privacy of his own lair over a nice glass of lizard blood!

One thing I will draw your attention to is that the BBC will probably get so many cuts that it’ll look like a really bad art project from Blue Peter. (Or Just “Peter” as the shows now called – due to a lack of budget to by blue paint.)

Anyway, as a media student, I have obtained a copy of the new BBC channel guide and have printed some of the new, conservative led programs below.

1800: The Zero Point Five Show

(Formally “The One Show”.) Join Adrian Charles as he is forced to perform a series of demeaning tasks in a bid to pay for the hospital bills of his sick wife.

1830: Strings and Things

Prime time family entertainment featuring Essex pensioners giving a fascinating insight into the world of parcel wrapping.

1900: Mr. Who

Family entertainment featuring timelord David Tennant’s crippling descent into depression where not even the ability of manipulate time allows him to apply for a PHD as he never went to Eton.

1930: Sick on Single Mums

Join Ann Widdecombe as she tours Britian in her Jag, pulling over only to purge yesterday’s lobster dinner into the faces of unsuspecting members of the public that are not from the ‘Pure Breed’.

2000: Go to Bed, Peasants.

David Cameron addresses the nation and informs the weak mortals to get to bed to ensure they have all the energy for work tomorrow on their labour camp. HAIL CAMERON.

Ps. I call shotgun on leading the labour party! That’s how it works, right?

Picture the Loan.

Well, there you go folks. Half term is over. What did I do this holiday? The same thing every 18-year-old male and female in my situation does...

...Sign myself into crippling debt.

Basically, in a bid to escape the "fantastic" environment of my "wonderful" home town, I spent about ten minutes last Thursday in front of my PC screen flying through the nice'n'easy student loan application procedure.

Well...almost.

By "about ten minutes" I mean "The whole goddamn day", and by "nice'n'easy" I mean "so amazingly tedious that my inner child figured out that Santa was non-existent and is yet to stop crying." At first, things weren't too bad and the questions were easy, and, based on all the information I had typed out about myself, my finances, and my education - I was all set. Right? That's all they need to know?

Wrong.

Next came the questions about if I was religious, and if at the age of eighteen, I already held any degrees. Then came demands for information about my family - and, as I hit the final "submit" button and agreed to send them my birth certificate and a photograph of my left foot to confirm my identity - my heart sunk. I realised what was happening. They are building a clone.

By synthesizing the data they are probed off of me, the student loan company are planning to build a clone of me - except he'll be stronger, quicker, more witty and twice as attractive as me - and, when I finish my university course, they'll activate him and he'll have just one thing on his mind. My blood. He alone will be sent to track me down, and retrieve the money I borrowed from the state to cover my university fees, and If I can't pay it back - he'll kill me, and sell my body to cover my debt to the NHS. Or at least they would...

...If the people at the student finance knew how to lift a pen.

Fortunately they don't - so making a clone of me will be off the cards, and besides, the people who run that business have got to be in bed by seven after a long hard day of drooling. Mum's orders.

So there you go "Student Finance" - I now feel about you the same way I feel about Butlins and Jedward...combined. You make me sad. I hope your happy.

Check back next week for a "hehe" happy "hoho" article about hamsters! (Or something similar.)

Peace!

PS. As of now, every time I post, I'm going to give you a link to something interesting as a special treat. See! Told you that I liked you!

Yes, it's immature, but this made me laugh a great deal! Enjoy:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AWUkgwo-zJE

All Change, Please.

There I was – the time? 6.30AM. Location? My bedroom. I stared longingly out of the bedroom window on the morning of Friday, 22nd January – wondering how I would cope with the three-and-a-half hour train ride down to Southampton. Exactly one glass of water and two slices of white toast later, I arrived at my local train station.

Now, it was still pretty early in the morning (McDonald’s was still serving it’s breakfast menu) – so I decided to buy a coffee so that I didn’t look out of place with all the super-cool, upper class business people that I was about to share a train with to London Victoria. I took my seat and tried just a sip of my coffee, and I must say – British Rail has done it again! Somehow, all hot beverages served from stations in the south east are served at above boiling point, which, naturally, caused my eyes to water to the extent that I was able to actually clean the carriage I was in with my bitter, pain-induced tears – making it the first moment in recorded history that a commuter train had been cleaned, at all, ever. The train ride to London took about an hour, with me sitting there – staring out of the window as if I was on some sort of futuristic safari in which the “pure breed” are invited to be chauffeured through the dark, “fragrant” depths of Deptford – snarling and giggling at the less fortunate stumble around outside looking for jobs to do in an apparently “recession free” Great Britain.

As the train slowly clunked into the station – a beautiful thing happened. You see, from London Victoria, I had to get to Clapham Junction (which wins the “Most interesting-and-or-disturbing smells for a public service facility award, 2010) – which meant running across the whole length of London Victoria station as my train and the train to the junction were on separate sides. Little did I know, the train I needed was there already – and to make the scene more perfect – about 70% of my train’s passengers wanted that service too. It was like being in a film; row upon row of nameless uniforms stood up, all with facial emotions to suggest that someone had left a Dolly Parton CD playing, waiting for the doors to slide open – and sure enough, when they did - *boom* - I was catapulted into the first thirty seconds of “Saving Private Ryan”. In horde, we shot across the station – jumping out of the way of strategically placed bins, and hopelessly lost tourists to the relative safety of the bunker / 09.32 service to Clapham Junction. Most of us made it. Some didn’t.

Lest we forget.

After another two-and-a-half hours, I rolled into a rather rainy Southampton station. Using the map I had scrawled on the back of Sainsbury’s receipts, it took me just twenty minutes to make the ten minute walk to the university – which is when things got…’interesting’. Firstly, I accidentally walked into a lecture, which caused me to freeze like a deer in the front headlights of a twelve-point-three tonne lorry carrying schoolbooks, before disappearing without becoming metaphorical road kill. Fortunately, almost seven hours after I originally left – I made it in time for my interview. This is when I got my “super-special surprise”. Guess what? They had closed my course. Really. They hadn't even told me! My course was no longer existent – leaving me with nothing more to do than admit defeat – and begin the long, tedious journey back home.

Peace

PS. My girlfriend is working on an art project that is taking her a long time. Thing is - its already a billion times better than what I can, or will ever be able to do - she's very talented! Will be "awesome" (she doesn't like that word - all the more reason to use it!) -to see the final project!

Britain's "Big Freeze"

Well, boo-hoo Britain! Boo-bloody-hoo! It's just snow!

Wednesday 6Th of January started as normal for me. I woke up at half-past-silly, and forced myself out of bed - and into the bathroom to perform the manly task of turning on the shower, and, like all true men - constantly and timidly putting my hand in the shower stream to make sure that the water wasn't too hot for me. After plastering myself in the usual list of shower products that contain ingredients that no-one can pronounce - yet must be good for me as the bottle clearly states "Designed to revitalise the modern man, and give him everything he needs to make him look and feel his best." - I mean, that's me, right? Right? I got changed...

...Anyway...

It was then a short, gormless stagger down the stairs to perch myself in front of the TV to find out what was happening in the world. Let's face it - not much in the way of cool things are happening at the moment. A politician spoke out of turn - and surprise surprise, Michael Jackson is still dead. However, I was flung from my zombie-like state when I saw a startling report from a on-location news reporter who was practically screaming down the microphone sounding so terrified I though that she may as well have been standing in the middle of a middle-eastern battlefield, wearing a "shoot me" t-shirt, available from all good shops in my imagination, whilst simultaneously being shown photographs of a naked Gordon Brown. She was reporting that the UK had been hit by a "disastrous" snow storm. With that, I sprang from my seat - and ran to my window, fully ready to put into effect all that training I had learnt from watching that 30-second Ray Mears trailer the other week... What "life-threatening" condition was I greeted with? About an inch of snow. That's all.

Now, in true British style - every school, workplace, and road in Britain went into full post-apocalyptic lock down. Sales of canned food skyrocketed as people prepared to ration food for the next thirty years, news reports constantly streamed in saying how we should all stay in doors and how anyone who even attempted to look out of a window would surely die. Now, believe me, I'm as cowardly as the next man - in fact, after seeing a 60-second clip of "High School Musical" - I promised myself I'd never go to an American high school as I could never sing like that and someone like me would be destined to become a social recluse in such a affluent environment as depicted by the completely-realistic-because-television-never-lies-fly-on-the-wall-documentary that is "High School Musical", but even I was able to summon the courage to head outside for a few brief moments to construct a impromptu snowman at the end of my garden, that, thanks to the more recent mild climate - now looks like one of the Nazis from Indiana Jones...Mid-Melt.

Still, I guess I should be thankful for the days I got to spend at home doing coursework, and spending on the phone to my lovely girlfriend! So - whats going to happen in this "big freeze"? Will the death count fly all the way up to population-crippling "three"? Who knows. I've already said my farewells, just in case. I think you should too. Check back Friday to see if the world has ended or not!

Peace.

PS. I stayed over at my girlfriend's place at the weekend. I must say, her father is one damn fine cook!

Dawning of a Decade

Happy new year! Sorry I haven't posted much recently - but I've been as busy as a suicide hotline just after the release of another vile installment to the sickening twisted cult that we have come to know as"High school musical"...and believe me...that's pretty busy!

So, here we are - 2009 is over, and 2010 is now sitting on my desk, waiting for me to get stuck in - and it's already shaping up to be an amazing year. I've not talked to you recently, so let me bring you back up to speed. Remember "Operation for Awesome"? - my application to uni? Well, I've done it!

I was sitting alone in my room one quite November evening when an email landed on my desk. I opened it. It said to check UCAS. Naturally, when a non-descript letter arrives at my desk - without hesitation, I follow its instructions without deviation - and it's never gone wrong (albeit no longer being allowed anywhere near farms, the elderly, or the Cayman Islands). All of a sudden - my heart rate doubled when I found that my application to my first choice university had been accepted, sending me into a hyper state in which I ran around the house like a 6'1'' pinball for about 2 months straight.

After that, I was quite content that 09' couldn't get any better. Oh, how wrong I was. Little did I know, 09' was about to go from "good" to "Amazing".

You see, for a little while now - there has been this stunning young lady in my life - in which up to recently, I was far to nervous about asking out. However, on the 21st of December, just as the year was getting it's coat ready to leave us being propelled head first into the new decade, I finally took my chance - and asked her out. She said yes! All I could do is sit there - grin like a complete pillock, and feel my heart rate go from "pretty quick" to "Captin' - it's gonna blow!". In short, she is nothing less than amazing - and I am incredibly lucky to be have her as my girlfreind.

So here we are, standing nervously in the doorway of the next decade...so what are we waiting for? Shall we go in? (Please wipe your feet on the way in - I want no trace of the 'naughties' decade on the carpet.)

I'll try and update my blog one a week, Fridays as of now. But that's a "try". Odds are I will be distracted by the blinking light on my computer, and will sit in a semi-hypnotic state for hours, and thusly not post again for another year or so. But I'll try to.

Check back soon!

Peace.

PS. University life can be expensive. I advise winning the lottery first.