Whenever a person, business or reputable thing of whatever ilk happens to become world’s favourite anything it tends towards an inflation of ego or head size. You’ve all seen the classic symptoms including complacency and an insufferable confidence. Don’t you just hate it and want to put whatever it is back in its rightful (or not quite so rightful given that they probably earned their top spot by being very good at their occupation. That or bribery, it’s generally one or the other)? But it’s a very sad fact universally acknowledged that one customer doesn’t really have the power to do anything much so we’ll have to approach this from something of a slightly different direction.
I’m so sorry to have to tell you that we’ll probably have to exert some effort on this one (I know, I know but if we can get cracking on this one pronto then it’ll all be done that little bit quicker and you can get back to eating crisps in front of the telly or whatever else it was you were getting up to on this fine Saturday). If we cleverly (it is only just shy of ingenious this plan. After all, I did come up with it. That’s not arrogance or anything, merely plain and simple truth) harness the awesome power of collectivity then we can truly do anything.
The thing we shall be accomplishing is saying no to the world’s favourite airline (how did you know? It’s like you’re psychic or something). They need cutting down to size because they’re definitely getting far too large for their well upholstered breeches. I’m not entirely sure what it is we’re going to be saying no to precisely (mainly because I haven’t looked into it because I think they might be watching my every move) but I’m pretty sure we can achieve it by choosing to fly with their competitors. Doesn’t matter where you’re going or with whom you eventually decide to travel with but for the love of everything don’t go with the top dog.
It’s a complete and utter fiasco, not to mention something of an entirely terrible disgrace. How dare people react in the way they’ve done to what it really quite obviously the most momentous incident of the entirety of the twenty first century? It’s time we made them pay for their outrageous folly. No more shall we stand by as anonymous (or otherwise) strangers who have nothing to do with the original accident make snide comments and cutting jokes. We shall not suffer suggestions that it was all a well coordinated PR stunt orchestrated to artificially inflate lacklustre ticket sales. It’s time and past that we mobilised. The earth shall shake at our collective fury and bow down to give us precisely what we demand. Or no one will really notice. One of the two.
Basically, the poor little cherub that just so happens to be Madonna took a tumble and the internet took note. The wounded flower has been ridiculed for far too long already so is now definitely owed retribution in one form or another. I don’t want to go so far as to tell you what to do (because I’d probably get done for inciting rude behaviour or something. And the argument that they started it, whoever they might be, probably doesn’t stand up terribly well in court and it’s hardly as if I can afford to pay legal fees or whatever) but suggestions are swirling round my brain as I type (it’s not quite as painful as it sounds).
A more outlandish or daring writer might instruct you to track down the culprits, the various sayers of the nasty, make some wittily cutting comment and disappear off into the night. Such a maverick might go even further than that and say if you fail in the finding of such persons you ought to take to the streets and push people over in the off chance they said something rude once about the singer and thus dole of well deserved pay back. But I’d never dream of endorsing such a thing.
Clearly the man drinks a lot of Red Bull. Sorry, we all like to think that we’re better than that, don’t we? The stark truth just so happens to be that dear old Vlad the shirtless horse rider really does have wings. Somehow he’s been hiding them. Perhaps they’re detachable or something or he’s well practiced in the use of body doubles. It would definitely explain the baggy pyjamas he insists on fighting in so often. The real question is not why we can’t see them, it’s what are they like? I don’t know about you but I very much doubt that they’re angelic and feathery.
I’m relatively certain that we’re all about to advance down the leathery route of thought (and that just sounded so very wrong. Especially in such close proximity to Putin. So, collective shudder everyone. And breathe). Surely Putin can only have the leathery variety of flight stimulator (enabler? There’s only so many times I can say the word wing)? He’s definitely a closer relation to the bat than the fluffy pigeon. Of all the birds I could have chosen why did I opt for pigeon? There’s probably some sort of psychiatric analysis that we certainly don’t have time for going down here (or I’ve slipped into hopeless tangents again).
Or it could be some throwback to the age of dinosaurs. For some reason I always want to say velociraptor when thinking of the airborne prehistoric scaly monsters but I know in my heart (and you know, thanks to Google) that I’m grievously wrong. Obviously it’s the pterodactyl. They even have the same first letter and everything. It’s silent alliteration pointing the way to truth (as per usual). Essentially, what you need to take away from my message today is that Putin has spliced himself with a fossil and now he’s going to take to their air and make war on the drones with his mighty judo skills. Be very afraid.
It’s time and past for the reddest most embarrassed shame faces all round. It just so happens to have turned out that astrology isn’t actually bollocks. I know, who’d have thought it? However, this is the nature of science, you have to go with the evidence in front of you rather than wildly making everything up and claiming some vague mysticism to cover up the fact that you’re talking out of a certain posterior orifice. Sorry, I’m trying to take my sceptical hat off but it’s proving rather tight and unwilling to be removed. I can practically hear some of you out there scoffing at what I’m saying and I’m really not helping matters in the arena of getting you to believe.
For the naysayers who insist on having ‘proof’ and ‘facts’ before they’ll start signing on to your crazy theories, allow me to enlighten you. There has been a plethora of double blind large scale studies investigating all sorts of areas pertinent to the world of astrology. There were questionnaires and psychological evaluations. People were locked in boxes (you know, in a sciencey way, for reasons) and thousands upon thousands of star charts were made. And the wide array of data collected all points to one thing; the arrangement of the stars actually factually does have a significant impact on your day to day life. Trust me, the numbers guys have checked it over and over and it all stacks up.
So the scientific community has done a highly sharpish about turn and got on board with a concept they ridiculed up until very recently. Astrology is now a better respected science than astronomy and everyone is going to have to accept that fact. There will be new degree courses and prestigious professions spawned by this shocking discovery. Your star sign will become a genuine reason to discriminate against you and you’ll get all sorts lying about when their birthday was to change it rather than their age. Go and check your horoscope, it will tell you what to do from now on.
I am not for one moment endorsing that you start puffing away at cigarette after cigarette in order to potentially stave off diabetes. That would be properly insane, no doctor would ever tell you such a thing even in the days when many a medical professional would tell you how clean they would keep your lungs or whatever. I suppose if you really want to make it into a truth, you could well say that smoking does indeed circumvent the threat of diabetes by causing you to die from lung cancer before you have the chance to develop issues with sugar.
No, this story has as little to do with nicotine as a donkey has to do with a typewriter (I couldn’t think of a clever analogy). You’re familiar with the Legend of Zelda, are you not? Well, I’m sure that you’re far from surprised to learn that the gutsy hero Link has even more magical properties in him than we had previously realised. Naturally it’s a terrible shame that he had to be slaughtered, fried to a crisp and ground into a dusty paste for us to learn this. However, now that he is in such a state it would be such a shame to let him go to waste when we could have a considered crack at curing the scourge that is diabetes.
So, you take your powdered Link purchased from your reputable vendor of choice (if I did all the work for you how would this be any fun?), roll him up in a joint (I may not be entirely familiar with the mechanics of this bit but I’m sure you can find a cool teenager to help you out if you’re really struggling) and smoke away. I’ve heard that you can literally feel your insulin singing. Or I might have been talking to someone who’d recently taken acid. I’m sure they’re relatively similar experiences.
It’s perfectly natural and reasonable to expect that the right amount of money can get you absolutely anything you want in this life and quite possibly in the next. Should a particularly wealthy oil baron or loaded business magnate wish it, for the correct price, he could sit on the Queen’s special chair for an afternoon or so, wrapped in ermine and dispensing justice and issuing edicts. But life just so happens not to be a cartoon so that tends not to be precisely what they’re looking for (though I am contemplating setting up an experience day for those with delusions of glory and far too much money at their disposal).
Unsurprisingly, moneyed individuals tend to be after opportunities that will grant them more funds. That’s completely fine, the unwashed masses might not be so poor if they were less disinclined to wash (they’ve got a few pence to spend on soap right? So what on earth are they complaining about?). Capitalism has got us this far so it’s very clearly the absolute best thing to have ever happened to us as a species. Of course it’s unacceptable for MPs to have to eke out something that doesn’t even quite pass for an existence on their mere pittance of upwards of sixty grand a year. The poor lambs, it’s a wonder they haven’t yet turned to drug dealing as opposed to the not even nearly a crime of letting companies bribe them for treats.
Have you been watching the metaphorical pendulum I’ve been swinging in front of your faces for the past five minutes? No, well we’ve got some catching up to do then (that’s if I want to earn my pin money from big business for my little part in convincing the public that there’s no scandal to be had here so everyone should turn their attention elsewhere). Are you even feeling sleepy yet?
Nobody ever really tells you about the dangers of too much quinoa in your diet. The health gurus go on and on in excruciating detail about the wonders of kale and endlessly extolling the virtues of whatever super grain they’re promoting this week while constantly trying to justify their very existence. However, it would hardly be in their interest to let you know that there’s a downside involved with all this healthy eating lark. While you might not balloon or bloat or discover that your arteries have hardened and become so encrusted with cholesterol that you have more yellow running through your veins than red, there’s something else entirely going on downstairs. And sadly not in the excitingly saucy way.
At the most unfortunate and inconvenient times possible, such as when you’re in a sealed container very high up in the air, the noxious bottom gases shall surely issue forth. It’s not even worth the effort trying to deny that it’s an uncomfortable and acutely embarrassing situation for all those involved but you can hardly fail to realise that it’s essentially a deeply humanising process. You can sit there pretending to be as high and mighty as you like, perhaps you’re really rather prim and proper with a very tasteful string of peals clasped around your neck but when that first ominous rumble sounds there’s absolutely no way of brazening it out.
All you can do is sit there and decide how you’re going to deal with the situation you’ve been presented with so suddenly. If you’ve got the presence of mind and self confidence to pull it off, you can always blush or giggle, apologise and offer someone nearby a wafting implement should they be offended by your stink. Or you can always go with the method a certain posh mum opted for, blame it on the commonest looking person in the vicinity and shoot dirty looks at them until you’re upgraded on account of all that inconvenience she’d had to suffer through.