Parents Shun Corbyn’s Nightmare

This is a classic example of very definite reasons why you absolutely shouldn’t share the contents of your dreams with anyone. It doesn’t matter how much you think they care about you, your hopes, aspirations and finer feelings. It also doesn’t make the slightest jot of difference quite how rattled or affected you’ve been by your nighttime experiences. You could sit shivering in the corner afflicted by your midnight terrors but if you start talking about them things are going to get terrible quickly.

But I think we can pause to take a moment to pity poor Jeremy. It’s all going just a little bit tits up for him at the moment. Of course this is a great moral tale for the children, showing them exactly what happens when to succumb to peer pressure or playing jokes on the other children or whatever. But still, it’s not fun to set your cap at a particular goal and fail rather spectacularly and in such a very public way.

There are all sorts of predictions floating about regarding how people simply aren’t going to vote left in the upcoming elections (there’s a polling card sitting on my dining table but I can’t for the life of me remember what it is we’re going to be voting for. I’m a terrible adult). Sadly though, Corbyn’s more than a little distracted by his troubling dreams.

It doesn’t really matter the precise ins and outs of the sleepy time cabaret sashaying behind his eyelids. What does matter is that he told someone about it and everyone’s taken quite thoroughly against him. They couldn’t care in the very slightest and got pretty annoyed about the fact that he expected them to. Something tells me that things are going to continue to not quite pan out as expected and I’m not sure how to feel about it.

Labour’s Civil War is Key to Longer Life

Well, maybe not longer in terms of an actual timeframe if that just so happens to be where your mind leapt to. It’s really pretty difficult to quantify that sort of thing before you snuff it. However, malarkey of this nature and similar is precisely the variety of gubbins that’s sure to enrich your days. You could zombie your way through life, performing perfunctory essential functions, falling into a coma at night and shuffling through a pitiful existence, it’s a distinct possibility.

However, for those of you feeling that little more vivacious, you’ll need to grab hold of issues you can manage to care about just a little bit. That doesn’t mean it all has to be warm and squishy. Caring also comes in the form of blind anger and vicious jealousy. You wouldn’t be half as het up if you were cold and indifferent to the stimulus in question.

Labour’s civil war is a prime example of an invigorating event. Everyone’s really getting their juices flowing (apologies, poor choice of words there. When start throwing around terms like juices flowing it inspires all sorts of the wrong images in your poor confused head. You’ll start associating various members of the Shadow Cabinet with all sorts of bedroom depravity and things will simply spiral from there) and taking sides in this spirited argument.

Obviously the key players are incredibly anxious to distance themselves from the merest hint of anti-Semitism, that goes without saying. Others are practically bending over backwards in their attempts to make it plain that they in no way have anything even resembling Nazi sympathies but to also prop up someone who merely gave something of a false impression. A different batch of folk are simply doing their best to tear the rest down for reasons best known to themselves. But imagine how alive they’re feeling right now.

Top Cop is Forced to Surgery by Torchlight

Oh my does this dude need to pay. He did or said or brought something about that really was thoroughly reprehensible. It’s not entirely clear what the original misdeed was because the media has blown the entire event completely out of proportion but needless to say it was absolutely rather naughty. And not in the good way you just got a little too excited about. Come on, you’re bigger than that. Probably.

However, it doesn’t actually matter all that much what initially transpired because the man has already been judged by a jury of his peers. And by that I quite clearly mean that a lot of people have decided what they reckon and the facts are no longer especially relevant to making up anyone else’s minds. Everyone’s already moved onto a much more pressing matters and it’s taking up an awful lot of thinking time and effort.

The man has to lose something. After what he did or didn’t take from quite a few others it’s quite surely a fitting punishment for this crime. But what to take away from the man man who’s done this many terrible things? Do you track down a needy patient or drunk in need of a kidney or liver? Is that really enough though? You can get by without those bits, it would be like volunteering to donate your appendix, a completely empty gesture.

So they’re going to carve out every single sliver that the guy can get by without. With a rusty scalpel. And no anaesthetic. By torch- or quite possibly even candlelight in order to give proceedings the element of medieval cruelty that the occasion demanded. It’s part of a whole new raft of deliciously violent legislative measures passed by the department of justice and in no way the start of any dystopian future opening soon in a cinema near you.

Justice for the Anti-Semitic Outbursts on Facebook

Freedom of speech simply hasn’t gone far enough. In this grand old day and age if there’s some kind of rule prohibiting the sacred right of getting rip roaringly drunk and letting yourself go on whatever topic you might select on a social media outlet of your choice then there’s something terribly wrong with the world. It’s a crying shame that we elite can’t come out with whatever we’re thinking and for there to be precisely zero consequences.

Should someone somewhere manage to take it into their insubstantial little heads that some variety of offence was meant by any comments launched into the ether then they really ought to be able to find a way to get over it. It’s hardly my fault that anyone out there might stumble across my inebriated ramblings (which have now been totally deleted by the way, there’s no way you’ll ever find any variety of evidence no matter how hard you look) and decide that I was referring to them.

So I think we should all take a moment to ponder the sympathy we definitely ought to be experiencing for a poor soul who said a mildly unfortunate thing on the internet. It was totally just because of the minority group they targeted. Had they mouthed off just a little about the terrorists or another religious group or even weird folk like the vegans there absolutely wouldn’t have been this kind of reaction.

But those… (nope, can’t finish the sentence without making it a hundred times worse. This dirt encrusted spade next to me is telling me that it’s time and past to change the subject). Anyway, it’s absolutely fine because a very expensive lawyer was able to wangle a fantastically face saving deal. Justice came at a completely reasonable price and the social media accounts have since been wiped from the face of cyberspace.

Sharks Who Split Over Brexit

Everyone has an opinion. When it doesn’t directly affect them, they have no stake in the matter and it’s a field in which they have precisely zero expertise, they suddenly have so very many things to say. Healthcare professionals are standing up for the rights to the odd evening off that they feel entitled to and plenty of other folk are commenting on the wrongness of this from the comfort of their armchairs.

Now aquatic life is beginning to weigh in on the state of our bureaucratic relationships in Europe. It all started, not unlike the film Finding Nemo, with a really mouthy sardine (it might have been a few years since I’ve had the opportunity to view that particular animated cinematic treat). In amongst its busy schedule of swimming and avoiding those who might want to grill them and place them atop a slice of freshly toasted bread as a snack, the hapless fish came upon a certain piece of literature.

It was a decidedly unostentatious leaflet reasonably stating arguments for remaining shackled to the rest of the trading bloc. Naturally, sardines aren’t the most advanced of readers and just a few of the messages contained therein got ever so slightly lost in transit. That’s how the lies and mildly sensationalist claims were spread among the regular and cartilaginous fish populations.

I don’t think you’ll be particularly surprised to hear that the sharks in particular were scandalised by the garbled proceedings once they learned of them. Some were delighted that the two leggers were so divided. Soon their world would fall into chaos and the seas would take them as in the prophecies of old and at long last they would feast. Others became concerned that the increase in regulations that would no doubt come as part and parcel of an exit would have unforeseen impact on the fishing industry. Who’s to say who might be proven correct?

Snowy Blast to Go to Glasto

Inclement weather, not unlike girls, just wants to have fun. Every now and then people get on board with the programme and flock outside to frolic amongst the falling flakes. However, most times people shake their fists in anger in the direction of the heavens when it’s less than lovely out of doors. They proclaim that their day has been utterly ruined and the clouds can only hang their heads in disappointment at such a reaction. They may even begin to cry.

But that’s going to change. A bit. Perhaps. Maybe the weather’s simply going to become that little bit more gleeful about raining on various people’s parades. There was a massive precipitation conference. I’ll admit that I’m a little fuzzy on the logistics so I’m not completely certain whether it was swirls of hail conferring with eddies of wind or the weather mages having a bit of a knees up. However, certain words were exchanged and conclusions come to.

The main event that the showers and flurries and squalls were fighting so assiduously over. I’ve never been of course because mine is a life of extended boredom but certain folk out there hover anxiously over the internet for the line-up to be announced. I’m not sure whether it was Adele or Bastille or even the Syrian national orchestra that caught their eye but everyone’s suddenly very excited indeed about witnessing live music in a festival environment.

Rest assured, the elements won’t be stopping then. National gatherings and events of all flavours will soon be accompanied by increasingly terrible weather. Hail shall rain down on street parties and son on and so forth in a faintly apocalyptic fashion. Don’t worry though, this is entirely coincidental and not remotely a terrifying consequence of climate change. The weather’s just decided it doesn’t care about our feelings any more, that’s all.

Super-rich Hit By Pregnant Women

If a pregnant woman slaps you about the face you’ll just roll with the situation. Should she pin you to the ground and start searching through your pockets to see if you’re packing the sweet treats she craves you’re most likely going to let her. Once there just so happens to be a baby on board a lady’s mind tends to disintegrate ever so slightly into something of a wibbly mess and this can manifest itself in feral behaviours.

So it’s only natural that we as a society allow expectant mothers to get away with all sorts of things the rest of us wouldn’t dream of even attempting. I for one plan to exploit the pregnancy license for all it’s worth. Because fun. But for the moment it’s time and past that the fecund females to put their temporary increased liberty to use for the betterment of mankind as a whole.

I don’t think I’m making grandiose claims (I’ll save those for when we’re really in trouble). All I’m proposing is that should you find yourself unexpectedly or otherwise with child, once you’ve completed crafting the ingenious social media post to proclaim this brand new status to the rest of the world of course, go out and hit as many really rich people as you can find.

Now I’m not so naive as to believe that thanks to these sorts of actions that change will happen overnight. With systems and opinions this entrenched it’s difficult to foresee a future where things are the slightest bit different. However, you get hit in the face by enough people carrying the next generation you might start having a bit of a think about your ways. Sure, some of the incredibly wealthy will only clamp down and become even more greedy but some might think and pause in their legal action against their attackers to consider a slightly better world.

Blair’s £5m Deal Over Sex Texts

It is a truth universally acknowledged (I can’t think of any quotable Shakespeare off the top of my head but I feel that today ought to have a vaguely literary bent) that when you let the slumbering behemoth in your pants (that’s not an allusion to size or anything, stop getting so excited) drive your communications strategy all sorts of awkward are bound to arise. Your downstairs area doesn’t make decisions quite as smart as you might initially believe.

Not to be smug or anything (since when have I ever enjoyed being able to say I told you so? That definitely doesn’t sound like me. Overly righteous and all that) but this is precisely how our former Prime Minister got himself into something of a pickle so recently. He’s in a committed long term relationship and all that but every now and then that isn’t enough for some sorts.

I’m not making any allegations of extra marital affairs, that sort of thing rather depends on your personal definition (suffice to say that I would be several kinds of incredibly pissed off should someone attempt to pull this sort of nonsense on me). But fantasy ran away with texting missives to the point that everything became really rather hot and heavy. It helped that no one could see anyone else’s physical appearances or facial expressions.

But this sort of thing inevitably will out. It’s just how the world works, Murphy’s law or whatever you want to call it. However, certain individuals are able to at the very least try to stem the flow. For a certain price of course. Mr Blair was actually grateful to be able to shell out five million pounds so that the rest of existence will never know that he started texting salacious things to a plethora of people with nothing else better to do with their Friday nights.

Don’t Turn Away From a Blooming Marvel

With their banging tunes, downloads and insistence on having their attention glued to their various devices day in day out, the young people of today are going to miss a thing or two going on around them. If it isn’t tweetable then they’re simply not interested and images of natural beauty aren’t worth a jot if they haven’t had at least three different Instagram filters slapped on. I’m almost definitely generalising and maligning the bulk of my own generation but whatever, I like to live dangerously.

So someone somewhere absolutely has to come up with some sort of scheme, caper or general plan to disengage the young from the overwhelming lure of technology. Otherwise, it’s all too easy to ignore the horrors of climate change and all that. If you can pretend such disasters aren’t even happening you’re probably not going to be all that motivated when it comes to doing something about them.

Action has to be taken. Probably. Not by me. And it really does have to be something rather spectacular. To drive the point home it probably ought to have a faintly environmental or ecological tone. Genetically engineer some variety of vine or flowing plant so that when it blooms fully formed replicas of the Avengers franchise emerge forth. It would be really rather difficult to ignore that particular blooming marvel. Though I have every faith in young people to rise to that challenge.

Perhaps a more aggressive marketing campaign is needed with some hearty digital elements for good measure. You know the sort of thing, breaking everything down from the inside. If your screen starts exploding with myriad colours you’ll probably start wondering what you’ve been ingesting lately but it’ll definitely grab your focus. What I’ve desperately been trying to say is that you should keep an eye out for events of note or you’ll miss plenty of fascinating things.

One in Three Terrorists Dies Suddenly at 62

It’s time we went ahead and admitted it, being a terrorist is something of a dangerous occupation. I’m not sure that many, if any, of the senior management are utilising their risk assessments effectively. For example, when sending an earnest idealist of a young radical out with a bomb strapped to their chest are they really considering the emotional and physical damage they might be causing? I doubt it.

Nevertheless, should you manage to avoid such assignments, terrorism seems to be a career in which you can definitely excel. Don’t worry about such tedious ephemera as performance reviews and sales targets. There are far more exciting office supplies to steal than mere interestingly coloured post-its. I’m sure the more ambitious among you have been eyeing up the photocopier as a potential heist item but perhaps you ought to be setting your sights just a little bit higher. And think of the pension.

Actually don’t consider those sorts of benefit because there aren’t any. Once you make it to middle age and beyond as a terrorist then the odds are really rather high that there’s something of a bounty on your head. One in three terrorists dies suddenly in their sixties and I’m afraid to let you know that the suddenness has more than a little bit to do with poison or some variety of assassination method.

However, we mustn’t forget about the other two. They’re not dying in the blink of an eye after the point of becoming sexagenarians. It may well be that they’ve made their conversion to pink mist rather a lot earlier than that. Then again, it’s all in the name of whatever cause they were so devoted to in the first place so it’s probably worth it as far as they’re concerned. The quivering pile of human flakes probably won’t disagree with you on that point at any rate.