Admit it, you’re kind of jealous of any group of people who manage to summon the gumption and gusto necessary for following through with that variety of organised protest. Come to think of it, it’s a rare thing that any of us feels that we have enough holiday what with days having to come out here and there for waiting in for essential deliveries and such commonplace events as Christmas. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have more opportunities to simply get away from it all?
This is precisely the line of thinking that a certain someone was pursuing not so very long ago. They did various figures and plugged those calculations into a number of cunning algorithms and determined that a little bit more annual leave would do almost everyone the power of good. Highly persuasive arguments were put forth which were rapidly taken up by all manner of folk who whole heartedly agreed. I can see you’re coming around to their way of thinking too.
Employers, however, were rather more reluctant on the uptake. They closed eyes and ears to coaxing and completely ignored the numerous petitions that were carefully placed under their noses. Something a little bit more drastic was going to have to occur to demonstrate just how ticked off the British workforce had become and how emphatically they were no longer going to stand for such unjust treatment.
So the working week of strikes came about. People from all walks of career path took to the streets to voice their disappointments with the way their lives were panning out. And the rest simply found a way to cope with the lack of others making it into the office. Sure, one or two unlucky types how to hold it in when a hernia ruptured or a flat was broken into but for the most part people were blissfully happy with the impromptu holiday. They may even indulge in another next month.
I’m definitely not saying that I am in any way a proponent of cigarettes. They’re downright unappealing but you have to admit that there’s a certain refreshing honesty to them. If you crack out one of those bad boys you are more than prepared to announce to the world that you’re fully aware how terrible they are for you but simply can’t stay away from the nicotinoid goodness. Whereas with vaping you’re clearly trying to claim some sort of moral high ground whilst sucking the chemical cocktail as deep into your soul as possible.
As someone with absolutely no vices, natural or otherwise (no, this isn’t an entire cake I’m about to inhale. Quick, look over there! Sorry, what cake? Help, I’m choking on crumbs!), it’s hardly unreasonable for me to adopt a blisteringly superior tone when talking about this particular subject. Vapists might wish to argue that they’re doing something noble, weaning themselves off a dirty habit and taking up something altogether far healthier. They are, of course, wrong.
Vaping is completely awful. Not because of fabricated diseases like popcorn lung or whatever they’ve decided to convince gullible fools is real. It’s admitting weakness is all. It’s making us look bad. Our centuries old feud with the frogs is liable to dissolve away into nothingness to the point where we might start believing that there’s nothing concrete to dislike them for. For example.
So, for a short period only, there is only one course of action open to you. Sneer at those waving their e-cigarettes aloft. Smash their chargers. Empty their noxious liquids down the sink. Before long, they’ll have naturally realised the error of the their ways. Once the country has returned to sanity we can turn to some better, worthier project. Like a crusade, just as in the glory days of Agincourt. Better start practising your archery.
I know. This is Britain. We’re just not used to the sun. Previously it managed to break its way through the cloud blankets in relatively homeopathic doses. We consoled ourselves with comforting thoughts that we didn’t need sunlight anyway. What are we, plants? When humans are exposed to excessive sunny radiation they’ll literally fry. They’ll burn like little crisps and eventually develop all manner and variety of deadly cancers. The sun is bad and not remotely necessary for happy and healthy lives.
However, the science men in their adorable little white coats have come up with another side of the story altogether. It turns out that the sun is not only basically alright for you but basically essential for all life as we know it or otherwise. Who would have ever suspected this to be the case? A completely blindsiding situation. They did some tests with various machines that go ping and produced rather astounding results.
Sunshine, especially the rays that make their way to your skin over the course of the summer months (whenever those might be, it’s so hard to predict with this sort of thing with a calendar nowadays) has all manner of exciting health benefits. Let me walk you through it. Sunshine makes you happy, deliriously so without so much as a care in the world even if a bear comes along and gnaws your leg off.
Light from that big ball of incandescent gas in space has many other benefits besides. If you soak yourself in sunlight for an hour or so a day you’ll get all the nutrition you need. It’s better for your heart than the Mediterranean diet, antioxidant superfoods and power bars all wrapped into one. And you definitely won’t need to take statins any more. Pour them out the window, go on, you’ll feel excellent.
You and I both know that the sacred shares of our verdant little island transform our country into what is essentially a holy land. It’s very much the nicest, loveliest, most culturally significant place to be with an undeniably mouthwatering but I’m sure I don’t need to tell you this. So it’s hardly surprising that everyone who’s anyone is a very keen bean indeed to make this their primary residence. Apart from when it’s more convenient not to be for tax reasons.
We’ve got a Queen don’t you know? We’re soaked in history and refinement but quite definitely not an undue amount of hostility or unbridled prejudice. Just think about the array of biscuits we have on offer, or even the delicious Cadbury’s chocolate. I’m getting away from my point but it’s easy to get distracted when you consider the various wonders on offer in this magical world of Eng.
Obviously absolutely everything is really rather glorious without so much as a shadow on the horizon. Sure, certain financial circumstances aren’t exactly precisely optimal but what amounts to a legion of the finest minds is working its way towards a solution. Cuts, those were determined to be the way forward. Only by hacking public spending to the bone could that money find its way into just the right pockets in order to ensure the very best for the public good.
Unfortunately, one step or the other didn’t quite work out as expected. Someone somewhere doing the slashing and slicing of budgets went a little bit too far or went after something that probably ought to have been ring fenced or whatnot. And the whole network kind of sort of crumbled if you’re understanding what I’m saying. Which led to just a few people definitely having to be deported. Only the unsavoury types of course, no one actually useful to be used in service to the country. Maybe we should move on.
I do believe you’ll find that this is one of the most unfortunate things about the banking industry. It’s altogether far too easy for an innocent mind to lose its focus and for a pen to slip to the point that a banker becomes a bonker (or indeed a boner as my not remotely Freudian fingers decided to type. It certainly lacks the dotted red line that my writerly integrity doesn’t especially enjoy). There’s quite definitely nothing worse than a typo.
Of course once you’ve been labelled a bonker there are a few different course of action open to you. You can try your utmost to feel indignant about the slur against your professional integrity. But we both know that such feelings well and truly won’t last all that long. Especially when bonker is quite such a funny word. It’s got the hard k sound and everything. Hilarious.
Or, you know, maybe you could just go with it. Once someone’s managed to get an idea like that about you in their heads it’ll prove incredibly hard to shift. They’ll be forever glancing at you askance, speculating about your behaviour and whoever it is you might be with next. Why not role with the metaphorical opinion punches and indulge in a little bit of what it is that the kids call action? I just sounded about a hundred years old didn’t I? Ah, it’s fine. I probably am at heart.
An alternative route open to you is to try something completely unexpected, a new move. We live in a constantly evolving society and as a species are forever adapting to brand new sets of circumstances or at least that’s the theory. Is it really so surprising that something new would crop up every now and then to try and deal with it? Go forth, be free and stop listening to me for any variety of advice.
People from other countries are clearly essentially inhuman. Now before you start banging on about backward views and various flavours of social injustice please do hear me out. I am in no way saying that foreigners are more animalistic than you or I. That would be harking back to a more than unfortunate history we’d all rather forget. There’s rather a lot more to it than that.
The world is really and truly oriented from your own perspective. The rest of it is altogether far too big and too complicated to properly exist. There are only so many humans out there so it made the most sense to populate the most immediate geographic areas to you and staff the remainder of the globe with cut outs manipulated by complicated pieces of string.
Up until now such disturbances in the fabric of the matrix have entirely passed you by. Yes they have. You didn’t realise that whenever you went on holiday they just changed the backdrop and you believed you were in another country. That exotic language they were speaking? Pure gibberish. And let’s not even get into the wool pulled over your eyes when it came to their manipulation of the weather. You sneered at how implausible the plot of The Truman Show was but failed to appreciate the Meta nature of the joke they were making.
Anyway, someone somewhere decided that they were tired of the deceit, the lies just weren’t worth it anymore and the sight of the end goal had long ago been lost entirely. They started abusing their power over you like a particularly sick version of The Sims. Why else do you think this year has been going so spectacularly awfully? Anyway anyway, the Polish migrants aren’t people at all. They’re made out of quicksand. You really don’t want to know what some of the other ethnic minorities have been manufactured from.
We’re basically not allowed to have anything remotely fun in our lives any more. Just because certain things have been proved ‘dangerous’ by ‘science’. If it feels so good then how can it possibly be wrong? And anyway, what’s the point in living if you’re not at perfect liberty to do something really quite stupid every now and again? Exactly.
But the big corporate bigwigs or the health and safety brigade or whoever it is in charge of these deeply uncool decisions have decreed that this must be so and we have no choice but to kowtow to their recommendations. Or do we? They’re hardly going to invade within the confines of your very own home to see whether or not you’re abiding by the rules set down by their petty little edict. And even if they do you can threaten violence until they back the hell off your property with surprisingly few repercussions. Not that I’m speaking from experience or anything.
What’s so wrong with these beads anyway? How come they’re absolutely everywhere if they’re so toxic? It’s hardly as if the medical profession or similar have a history of backing bogus treatments or products without sufficient evidence of their efficacy (cough, cigarettes, hacking cough with a little bit of tar thrown in for good measure). Manufacturers too, no history of them popping in cheap materials or cutting corners in order to adequately service their bottom line.
So I think you’ll find it’s actually all completely fine. Keep your microbeads intact in your especial poison of choice be it your exfoliator or toothpaste or what have you. This is your chance to make your stand, to draw your very own line in the stand and defy the government to come and get you. Good luck with that and everything. I’m just off to tip several litres of bobbly gunk down the sink.