Category Archives: reflections

Amo Amas Amat

Grammar schools are the last caucasian laugh at foreignors.
“God luck with the buks” shouts dyslexic Dave on his jailbroken iphone 100 that he acquired from that bloke whose bird he met in that club where he scored and they talked Chelsea and booze n tits and xbox and….iphones.
Cuz that geezer got a load from his uncle Harry who spent few years in Oman and Valencia before doing some time and acquiring some connections and tying up loose ends in Ibiza and packing up for a nice quiet spot on the Algarve.

“Dont forget yer £100 quid fee and …errr…wahtwver other money you got.”

The chosen 10% or so can stay in that little world if they like it so much while the rest can move on to the next selective cash till

Another grammar school minting it thanks to those flippin lemmings and hosted by non other than Dave’s brother…or mate…or just, like-skinned compatriot.

The fallacy of education as the emancipation from the middle class sanitarium of a foreign mind

Trying too hard is the tell tale sign of the unwelcome.

The politics of life do not heed for those who show their hand.

And this lot come with their caps upturned…like lambs begging for slaughter…”take my child”,they bleat,”show him the white walker’s ways”

And the house accepts,it moulds ,it churns,and it enslaves those open yolks.

Takes every bit of anger and rebellion and unadulterated ambition and translates it into ancient greek and directs them to the Whitehall of life
Forever to be proficient in the art of sitting and reading for the pleasure of the Dyslexicon Gods of the Universe who ,alone understand that power is gained not by being good at instructions but telling others to be good at it while they carry about the business of being God.

God of course,should not need to read

If you learn something…you will probably have to do it,so why the bloody hell waste your time learning to be a slave for Gods sake?

As Kim Jong Un might have said to Kim Ung Yong (but didn’t):

“klever peeple solv problums.Wise peple avoids dem.”

Wasting My Young Years

If I was my Doppelgänger

The only true freedom a free society can offer to its law abiding citizens is the freedom to make their own mistakes.
Clear answers are artificial constructs which is how Penrose, Godel,Turing and Bertrand Russell could show that logic can be easily undone…and yet we depend on it for sense.
SO whats the truth?
Or is there even such thing
And if there it nonsense?
Is everything a shade of something else.
No other way.

Blue Rose


My monad and my meme ,butt Y?

At the heart of the celebrity and five minutes of fame culture pervading our social media driven times is the deep rooted tradition of the personality cult

That there is no right or wrong way ,only ideas of how to live a life.

Here is one way,there is another, here is mine…

As Jim Morrison said (maybe) “what kind of idea are you?”

And the question and your answer never come under more scrutiny than when trying to espouse your idea to your children…not necessarily thru some formal and articulated sermonising but by exposing your life to these open minded blank canvas sponges called your children…who -whether they ask it aloud or not- are always wondering …


Same but deferent

U know u belong here when u dont feel u should curtsey for the queen.
Because dissent is a characteristically english trait
And subservience with the hope of being accepted is the litmus test for seeming like an outsider.

And once you have corporate enforced policies of multiculturalism and respect for other “faiths” embedded in the workplace to substitute that individual responsibility and unwritten common sense social contract of respect between 2 adults you r committing that difference to be maintained rather than to be a human and naturally evolving relationship between individuals and paradoxically disagreeing with a policy becomes more acceptable irrespective of the underlying “politically correct” motive.
And all the education in the world only makes the difference stand out more if elitism differentiates the soul less “anywhere” people from the more heart on sleeve “somewhere” people especially given that in the 5th richest country on the world we are 29th on education-because a defining feature of the current culture is to make sonething of yourself without-or even,in spite of,your education and maximise your benefit from a tax system designed to encourage craftiness,or to put it another way, dissent.
Hence the u turn on national insurance that would have hit a disproportionately large group of self entitled self employed tax return specialists.
Seems to me the rest of Europe has a different relationship with employers and authority in general…although they are looking with ever greater interest

Valerian Footrot

Love,Time and Death
Like Will Smith shouting down your ear that he’s a serious actor and in case you didn’t notice – make the title of the movie so hubristic that the only way to follow it up is to state as clearly and as soon as poss that there is a dead kid in it – just in case you’re thinking ..Will Smith?surely a comedy…no?

No…i think…just a movie version of what the X Factors and ‘(whoever’s) Got Talent’ shows have perfected.i see it more clearly now for its gratuity.

That slippery slope from tacky to cheesy to kitsch to outright cynical.

When its become less about the naked parading of the hopefuls be they singers or actors but the shallowness of the message itself – that your personal tribulations are only worth something if you can make them sound genuine…

And if you can hold back the tears yet make everyone around you cry…if you can suffer pain and loss…or make it seem so when you haven’t….if you can gag for fame and fortune ,yet convince all around you that you’re somehow different,if you can absorb all the insults and judgements and continue to play for the camera.If you can take your own soul,wrap it up in a ribbon and remarket it as “real”. If you can do all these things and not breathe a word about others except about what matters to you and yet convince others to love you just the same…then yours is the telly…and whats more…youll be a celeb,my child.

Majorca to Manchester (via Existential Angst)

a metal shudder
the cloudy veil of manchester
to remind its freshly tanned re entrants
about their own fragility.

barely perceptible
until wife whispers to me :
“i think this pilot must be a learner…”

the earnest expression ( and several years of training) resolves the matter of how best to respond:
“it’ll be fine” i say in my vocal equivalent of an emergency stop

to lie or deceive
fake or believe?

am i a willing participant in this buffoonery?
or the calm bestower of a ruthlessly logical statistical certainty

to join in the madness of my own uniqueness
or to fall back on my trust in my own insignificance??

which way to go?
the lesser maddening?

“thanks for the existential crisis darling” (quotation marks only for the privacy of my own demasculated manhood)

and then to shatter the internal clamour
the juddering landing
followed by a smattering of applause and a few polite humorous euphemisms….

what just happened there?

the wordless acknowledgement of a shared experience of contemplating our own mortality in a form of a digestibly light aperitif…
ahhh..back to real life.

can there be anything more real?

is life really just a load of kitsch
until the only thing that is and always will be the one real thing in our life…
our own death.

and this constant skirting around the realness of things

now so replicated and mass produced in all perceptible forms for the senses to consume

this fleeting experience of something inside us
so hungrily sought after
but to remain at arms length

turning us into multicoloured lava lamps continuously emitting emotional radiation in response to the barrage of pulses from the “cynics” who dont worry about the value of the feeling so much as the price.

because maybe for the majority of us kitsch may be as much reality as we would like to have

before the mask goes on
and the anaesthetic seeps in
and you can only let yourself be at your most vulnerable
by suspending belief
and trusting in the ephemeral fluidity of your own impermanence
to tunnel through that insurmountable absurdity of your existence

what could more real than that?

The Barrier of Belief
The Barrier of Belief

Parents’ Survival Guide to the Summer Holidays

How to survive the school holidays!

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Lets face it, it’s inevitable that if you have more than one child there will be arguing and by arguing I mean lots of arguing!


In this scenario in order to stay sane, we advise all parents and guardians to start a separate argument with them on what ever subject necessary. Watch them retreat together, and in no time at all they will be playing quietly away from you!


So you’re only on day two of the holidays, and already you have repeated yourself a hundred times,

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Perfectly you stories advise that you make eye contact with that little person/persons in question, pretend you have lost your voice and start miming your words and dancing around very erratically, this action is 1- bound to get their attention and 2- amuse them if only for 10 seconds. Both of which may get the desired outcome.


So you find yourself locked in the bathroom for some peace, and look around you and see clothing, used toothpaste in the sink (which is a good thing to clean taps and plug holes so we are told) and if you have boys there’s a faint smells of pee, and the toilet seat is up AGAIN!-


In this scenario Perfectly you stories advise that you 1- get out of the toilet, and 2- pour a glass of wine, after all it’s 6 o’clock somewhere in the world…right?


So you cleaned the house for what seems like days and everyday seems to be like groundhog day-


In this scenario Perfectly You Stories advise you to simply lower your cleaning standards….

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No lower then again… and again…


there that’s it now you are getting it.

So the dreaded words “I’m bored what can I do” are uttered after spending the day entertaining them-

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Now there are 2 scenarios here!

Firstly you could: make play dough, get their board games out, play in the garden, take them to the park, bake cakes, play hide and seek, play with the Wii, Xbox, play station…there are a number of options if you get our drift


or alternatively, and here’s your chance to really let loose! You could have a rant about how they should count themselves lucky that they have electronic equipment and tell them you didn’t when you were growing up, and you had to entertain yourself. Explain that the internet is a new thing, and you didn’t have it growing up, explain that you didn’t have a 1000 TV channels you had four channels, and that you had one TV in the house not a TV in every room… it is at this point that hopefully when you look down at them that they have got bored with what you have been saying, and are happily playing with one of their toys.


We wish you a happy and sane summer holiday from the perfectly you stories team


Corbyn is a metaphor for the EU.
The political class of media,journalists,public experts and politicians is being completely rejected whenever the the mass has a say in it.
And that proves that all the political class are ever doing is pretending to know what the public will do.
And as much as they make their intentions and expectations known ,so do the mass even more try to counter the experts.

Its an expert rejectionism.
And for the behavioural sciences of politics and economics that mood is fast exposing the thin veil of stability for what it is ,that politicians spend their life espousing and warning about (whether they believe in it themselves or not)

And the news pundits and journalists who enjoy the verbal spats as much as the politicians ,speculators and exerts now spend as much time analysing their own failure.
Navel gazing extremis.

Its like watching a fish in a bowl going round and round and round clueless about whats outside.
There are parallel narratives which fleetingly rub shoulders.

The TV news narrative and your life.

And the two are drifting apart very fast and national broadcasting has essentially morphed into the same blinded institution that it attempts to be reporting on.

The blind reporting to the blind about what we ,the visually bestowed ,are up to.

So the more everyone gangs up on Corbyn the more popular he will be amongst those who wish to dissociate themselves with the Westminster commentators -which,given,Brexit, is probably 52% of the population,a bizarre alliance brought together despite diametrically opposing positions on the traditional political spectrum (racists and liberalists)

The open house climate for racially inciteful and emboldened confrontation is now directed at white people as much as dark skinned who have been hearing this all their lives.

The anarchy and madness that follows progressive liberalisation before complete self combustion?

Maybe not..maybe just the final death cry of the nascent racism that is now being lanced and exposed for the foul smelling pus that it is – is the necessary exposure that the institutionalised state of affairs needed – to bring it out for what it is – not to help us non Anglo Saxons – but to bring home to those amongst us who walk about oblivious to the reality of this tension in this country and complaining about having to be “PC” which had become the growing undertone for expressing the uncomfortable friction of differences in culture,language,appearance and heritage ,now coming to the fore.

So now tell me we are in a new age of “openness”.How its all gone mad and “politically correct”.How foreigners get all the special treatment and you “cant say anything in your own country”

And maybe the hate crimes and acts directed against a whole racial group not coming from islamic terrorists might actually be an eye opener for those who were wavering about whether hate and irrational terror is the province of “foreign cultures” when now there is open “white against white” hatred as well as the usual …

welcome to our world…the real one

Random Walks in my Morris C Minor

Honey on crown
Glazed waxy syrup
moonshine helmeted by fishy net
Drowning said beehive on head

But still the buzzing goes fucking on

Spanner to cranium
Like pancake to brake disc
Because head not egg enough
To fry

the stephening drilling moans on

Like Oscar gone wild
Despite glycerin and phosphate
And valsalva sighs

The shitus quo stays very put

His spiralling eyes
Likes circular dice
Spinning his world
To syncopal demise

Ectatic rose spiders
Webbing ye buccinators
to yon gillespie nest
Dizzily free
To withering heights

“this is mine to deal with”
Lisac mutters thru oedematous sulci
“the last vestige of intention…
my cortex,my cortex
Heel to thine master!”

And with an almighty push
He committed history
To the consequence of his synaptic whim

“Because nature favours the brave..”leaked his amygdala
“And invents cowards for their consumption…”

His pituitary grumbled for its addisonian gyro

“Failure is a self fulfilling prophecy

“ICNAARC is a tally of self fulfilling fear driven job insecurity and lack of bed capacity from its majority stakeholder- the humble District General HospiTAl” muttered Shutit,Lisacs most industrious alpha wave

Ah…he’s waking up doctor..shall we extubate him”

Lets see…Mr Luton…are there fish in the sea???”

“Will it be negatively marked like your mortality score?” answered Lisac through his fenestration

Ahh ..clearly delerious…ramp up the propofol and suppress these insightful bursts nurse….lets wait another day till he conforms a bit more…”

“you shouldn’t admit if you think you’ll withdraw”

“yea I know that came up on my CRB..that’s why I work in this shitty hole…”

“Beds per heads equals inverse pressure to be dead”

And in a moment of peak BIS

off his head” yelled the dr to the bed

because stats favour the brave…and rely on the fearful to exaggerate the fall

turn the tilt table straight up again….up on yer feet Lisac we’ve tipped you the right way round again!”

and thus did the doctor surely resist the seductive allure to extend his ITU’s LOS score

POTS doing ones head in