A betamax of a blog

Like the sad old dad who insisted that betamax video was the way to go, I resisted having a blog.

Despite sending emails several feet long to long-suffering mates, it didn't occur to me to do what I do naturally and waffle my thoughts on line. So here I am. Least but hopefully not last.

I've got a blog got damn it. Christ I feel cool!

Now the only thing I need to do is write summit interesting but not libellous.

That's the thing nowadays, you can't fart without someone taking offence. Granted, perhaps not the most effective metaphor. After all if you're in a tight, clammy lift and someone rips a ripe one, you ain't gonna be too pleased.

But you know what I mean. We seem to be evolving into a species that takes offence at everything. And yet the things we should be angry about, we let slip...like the aforementioned fart.

Look how meekly we accept the increase in transport fares.

We get a shit service and pay through the nose for it.

What we should be doing is taking to the streets to cannabalise Boris Johnson, the only MP whom one could roast on a spit. Cor imagine the crackling on that!

And of course it's not his fault but he is accepting the public shilling so (until he lets Ken take over) it kind of is.

Unfair? Of course. Life can be totally unfair and what's why I write. It keeps the insanity at bay. I think.

Of course, if I was really mad, how the hell would I know?

Mad people never get approached precisely because people are terrified of them. So they never get old what needs to be said. This is how Sarah Palin has managed to convince the gullible that she's a serious politician.

Anyway, I don't want to bore you with my first post so let me away. Until the next time.