Foreign Language Tattoos

Do asians have English adages tattooed to their arms, back and wrists?

Do they stain themselves with our ancient British wisdom?

You also want to make sure the symbols mean what the tattooist said they meant.

Tattoo reads "At the end of the day, this boy is ugly"

Fortunately for them, English script is widely understood by most of the world's population with the money to afford a tattoo. Only English-speaking westerners read nothing but English.

Only the Poor Die Forgotten

If the young of the impoverished and lower middle classes were given the same means and opportunities to excel in all the great disciplines (sport, art, innovation, science) as the young of the spoilt, inheritant, rich and upper middle-classes, we would be living in a world saturated by greatness and excellence, instead of the minority of eltist achievement seen hitherto.















Think about all the greats of history and you'll see that most of this minority of individuals were aristocratic, rich and dripping with the sickly sap of inheritence:

Aristotle - son of the King's personal physician
Plato - descendent of the King of Athens
Wittgenstein - son of the wealthiest industrialist in Austro-Hungary
Bertrand Russell - 3rd Earl Russell, grandson of a British Prime Minister
Einstein - son of a business entrepreneur
Da Vinci - son of a wealthy Florentine lawyer
Charles Darwin - son of a wealthy society doctor and financier
Ludwig von Beethoven - German Aristocrat
Bill Gates - father a prominent lawyer, mother a banker, grandfather president of a national bank
Richard Branson - son of a Barrister, grandfather was a High Court Judge and Privy Councillor

It is obvious why greatness (individual and societal) mostly derives from wealth: changing the world costs time and money, and requires power and influence (also ultimately derived from money). Money and power provide the means necessary to fund ideas and actions, and provide the opportunities to develop such where none existed before. Those without wealth will struggle and fight against time and resource-based obstacles to achieve the same result as the wealthy.

This doesn't mean if there is no money, there is no opportunity. It doesn't mean all opportunities cost money. It means that you get many more, and more tailored, opportunities if you have money and power: with money and power you can create (read "buy") opportunities. This is because of the sad but true empirically verifiable fact that money talks: people to listen to the wealthy, people respect those who make money and people are in awe of those who are powerful. That's why everyone is trying to gain more wealth than funds their subsistence.

People who need to work two jobs to pay the bills and support their family, don't have the time or money to explore and develop the elements that lead to their or their children's greatness. They're too busy. Their kids' genius will incite merely curiosity in school and annoyance out of school. Any potential greatness in the poor will wither and die from lack of light, nourishment and care.

It is sickening but necessary that greatness is almost always the product of inherited money and power. Success and achievement are the result of mummy and daddy's wealth being poured onto the education and extra-curricular activities of their spoilt brattish children, like too much maple syrup on pancakes.

This disgusting practice occurs at the expense of the vast majority of commoners and their children, who if given half a chance and a little funding, could blow society away.

The poor are by necessity hardy, resourceful, innovative, gutsy and resilient. They have thus wrought their own genius, chiselled talent and wrung out skill in order to survive and also to live comfortably and entertained within their means.

The poor draw inspiration to greatness, creativity and expression from living a hard life. The poorer sections of society are therefore steeped in untapped genius and talent. Yet, instead of humanity benefitting from a massive source of greatness, diluting the efforts of the rich to nothing, the great of the poor grow old, unheard, and die forgotten.

What a waste.

Sweet and Sour

Life is all about balance. There's good shit and bad shit. It's the balance that you have to manage.


Career promotion when your superiors opposed you.
Sweet.

Colleague promoted when they don't do shit.
Sour.

Paid the same for working less than your colleague. 
Sweet.

Paid the same for working above your level.
Sour.

Finding an extra potato cake in your fish 'n chips order.
Sweet.

McDonalds drive thru forgot your nuggets again.
Sour.

You still look good in jeans.
Sweet.

What you think doesn't matter.
Sour.


Drank all night, no hangover.
Sweet.

Drank all night, no hangover, no idea where you are.
Sour.

What Ever Happened to Poets?

Ever wondered why the field of Poetry disappeared from the main-stream of culture, only reappearing as an abstruse whimper in the fringes of the left-wing's Pretentious Pseudo-Art Department?

Who is the Byron of today? Where can I hear a post-post-neo-modern Shelley? Whose rhapsodic lyric will I mumble to myself in the winter of my discontent? Where can I find counsel from a highly-tuned and sensitive conveyance to reconcile the darkest emotions with the need to carry on? Who will give voice to my despair, my hopes, my failings, my concerns?

Poets have not stopped being born. Poetry has not perished nor faded.

Poets and Poems thrive. You are surrounded by them. In fact, they are more popular today than they have ever been. You just haven't noticed them in their new clothing.

Think about it. What group of talented, artistic visionaries are out their today, have been for decades, who write about the passions and want us to hear their words?

Musicians.

Authentic musicians who write their own lyrics are today's Poets.

Get hold of some song lyrics from your favourite classics and read aloud. Then read a Keats, a Thomas, a Blake. They are the same.

As Robert Frost (above) explained:

"A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words."

Freddie could have said the very same.

You Lucky Old Bastards

Old people.





Take a good long look at old people.



Keep looking right into their eyes and you'll start seeing what I mean.



Sooner or later, the eye will give away the soul and you will glimpse a contentment far beyond your own reach.

Old people are the luckiest and happiest people on earth...

...compared to you.

Compare 2010 to 1960:

You left school having competed, sweated and battled over complex societal issues, philosophical debates and abstract concepts with the smartest and the best, locally and even internationally, for just good grades.
They left school with the most basic skills and a naive view of the world, having expended very little intellectual effort in doing so.

You are paying HECS at around $50 average per week for about ten years.
Their higher education was free.

You need a degree or higher qualification for the basist of jobs.
They didn't need degrees. They only needed to know someone.

You started looking for employment when unemployment was around 4-6%.
They looked for work when no-one was unemployed, by choice: 0%.

You struggled to gain entrance into the work-force, through pain-staking application processes, difficult interviews and selection processes, just to gain the bottom pay-scale in your industry.
They knew the boss.

You compete with the whole country just to get promoted, and only after applying for the position, even if you've been acting in the job.
Their boss promoted them with a phone call.

You will be lucky if you can get into the housing market at all, with the average home and land purchase costing seven and a half years average salary and only after saving 75% of your salary just for the deposit.
They bought houses that cost one and a half years salary. Their parents gave them the 3 months salary for the deposit.

You'll be paying the bank interest and principle for at least 25 years.
They bought their house easily in under 10 years - with one income.

You will need both yours and your partner's full-time salary to pay all your bills. 30% of this income will go to your mortgage.
They paid 15% of their income to their mortgage. And Mum didn't work.

Mum has to work now, so babies/kids have to go to day-care, costing $3-400 per week on average.
Their mums stayed at home and palmed the kids off to family to go shopping.

You have an endless host of lethal and debilitating illnesses, health risks and environmental hazards just waiting to knock you down at any moment. Many of these striking you in youth or middle age.
They're still alive.

You are bomarded by media reports of how fragile your life and life-style are.
They didn't have a clue.

You don't have a GP. You go to medical centres where you see a different indifferent foreigner every time.
They knew their GP.

You need insurance, security plans, alarms and locks for everything you own.
They didn't.

You may not live to be old.
They bet you to it.

The Sloganatorium

Add a slogan....

Feel liberated through the wit of tweeking or creating a slogan, as it should really be!


Canberra - Half the Quality, Twice the Price

Queensland - The Smrat State

Victoria - On The Move... to NSW

Hungry Jacks - The Burgers are Slightly Larger and Not as Tasty at Hungry Jacks

ANZ - We Bought Your World

Nike - Why Bother

L'Oreal - Because You're Ugly

Canberra - A Most (Un)Livable City

"CANBERRA RANKED AMONGST THE WORLD'S MOST LIVEABLE CITIES
Published: ACT Chief Minister's Dept. May 27, 2010
Section: Jon Stanhope, MLA | Media Releases
The results of a new survey just released have proven what most Canberrans already know; we live in one of the world's most liveable cities, says ACT Chief Minister Jon Stanhope.
The Mercer Worldwide Quality of Living Survey ranked Canberra 26th globally, the fourth highest ranked Australian city behind Sydney (10th) and Melbourne (18th) and Perth (21st)."


Canberra is NOT one of the most livable cities in the world.

Canberra is a bogan-filled country town with all the shit that comes from living in country towns and none of the benefits of city-living.

Just like moving from the city to a country town:

- you're living with bogans
- everyone drives with their lights on during the day
- the shops close early
- on Sunday the whole city is shut
- there's only a small range of goods and services available
- what's available is shit
- it takes ages to get served
- there aren't enough people around to help
- there aren't any late night pharmacies for when the kids get sick
- there's nothing to do
- the TV is full of ads about sheds, sheep and what gets farmers excited
- the locals are classless and tasteless
- there's a general inclination to revert back to very low standards

Just like moving from the country to the city:

- you pay stock-broker prices for basic necessities
- you can't believe the cost of living
- rent as high as Inner East and North Sydney
- restaurants charge 5 star prices for 2 star food/service
- people are pretty unfriendly
- everyone tail-gates (there's even local government warnings telling locals to stop it)

Everything costs more in Canberra

- car rego is higher
- petrol is higher
- childcare is higher
- GP visits

Canberra is a country town in a desert:

Canberra is the driest, hotest and coldest city in the country. It never rains. Every day is the same as yesterday, blue skys, no clouds, no wind, rain just boring bright empty blue skies - just like a desert. The ACT has the same climate as central Mexico.

Canberra is infested with the ugliest tree on earth:

Gum trees are not beautiful, they are ugly. Gum trees are grey/white skeletons that make you thirsty just looking at them. They represent the emasciation that comes after death. Gum trees kill all flora on the ground around them and turn the earth to dust. Canberra is covered in gum trees. Non-green, lifeless kindling covers the rock and dust ocean to reflect the hopelessness of those stuck in Canberra.

Canberra's "nature reserves" are also ugly, dry, emaciated, desiccated moors covered in dead or dying flora, rocks, dust and dirt. Canberra sits on an enormous gum tree farm. There is no indigenous grass in Canberra. What grass there is, if any, is flown in from New Zealand and stuck on top of the rocks and dirt during the night, when no-one is looking.

Canberra is a country town:

Like a country town, everyone dresses like farmers and bogans dress like farm hands. And when they go out shopping, for dinner or any of the three things you can do in Canberra, they dress up in twenty year old fashion or if they can afford it, an outfit carefully chosen from fashion houses such as Target and K-mart.

Like a country town, when you go to look at cars on the weekend, you will find all car sales shut on Sunday. You will find any remaining shops shut at 4pm on Sunday. Not that you'd want to buy anything in Canberra.

Unlike a city, you will pay more than double for your annual car registration - which funds the cheap-arsed country roads that link stupidly far away suburbs with specially designed tail-gating lanes (one lane, all the way).

Canberra has big city qualities:

Retail prices in Canberra are on par with Sydney and Melbourne, except you will find the range significantly smaller, the quality less, the after-sales service negligible, if you can even find what you're looking for. You will usually have to settle for whatever they have available, which is almost always floor stock at the same price as in the box.

Like a big city, you will pay Sydney CBD restaurant prices for poor quality breakfast, lunch and dinner. Having been served something microwaved from frozen, served by a dead-eyed student and just as tasteless, that you would expect to eat in a pub in Moe, you will leave the restaurant starving, regretting having ordered the meat main and puzzling over why you were billed by Lygon Street.

Lollypop Music - Justin Bieber Vs Jim Morrison

What do you call that pathetic musical genre of the 2000s?

What do you call those gay, pussy-arsed songs sung by those sweet little girl-boys who dominate the charts?

What one phrase concisely captures the essence of the new wave of pre-pubescent, over-sensitive dweeby wusses on the radio whining about the love they have for some teasing little tartlet?

Where have all the Men gone in music?

Don't get me wrong, baby. There have always been softies in pop music: the Righteous Brothers, John Farnham, the Eagles, Kenny Rogers, George Michael...

There have always been hard-arses: Jerry Lee Lewis, Elvis Presley, The Doors, AC/DC, Metallica, Nirvana, Linkin Park, Nickelback...

What they had in common was that they were all Men - fully grown, life-experienced, full-blooded specimens from the spectrum of masculinity.

And yes, like Karl Popper, I realise that when someone says all swans are white, the first thing people do is look for a black swan. I refer to the hermaphroditic gender-neutral/gender-dubious experiment that was New Wave and New Romantic music. The early 80s music scene was attacked by a plethora of gay hair-dressers who weren't really gay or hair-dressers (except for Flock of Seagulls):

Adam Ant, Spandau Ballet, Duran Duran, Depeche Mode, A-Ha...

Okay, so some were actually gay. But they were still gay Men, not gay boys. They were not sweet or soft, easily drawn to tears, still living at home with mummy and daddy to pwotect dem fwom da big bad world. These gay Men were incisive, confronting, garish, risk-taking, brave-hearted. And this constitution was reflected in their music and lyrics.

Alright, alright. Yes, later on in the 80s we saw the rise of the man-perm that was Hard Rock:

Def Lepard, White Snake, Poison, Twisted Sister, the Cult



But this is also different! They weren't actually the pansy little princesses their gay hair-stylists tried to make them. They were severely talented and visionary young men who were testing the boundaries of society's appreciation of art and expression. They were still men under all that make-up.

Today's factory-produced talentless whiner is designed to sell "records" and merchandise to the wuss market - from 5 to 25 yr old girls and their fellow girl-boys.

These are not Men!

This is not the music of Men!

There is an emerging attempt to fuse lollipop boys and wussiness with masculinity. Check out the half-thawed rawness, the roughness and homelessly bestubbled disguises worn by wussy older blokes:

Franz Ferdinand, Kings of Leon, Snow Patrol, Eskimo Joe, Wolf Mother...

The new genre of the 2000s is sweet, caring, cuddly, mothering. It is the pre-pubescent, impotent, immature and weak wailing of a teary-eyed mummy's boy.

Their only talent is to look sweet, sing sweet and taste like lollipops.

Australia - Land of Heroes

(Achilles was never awarded a Bravey Decoration even after destroying the Trojan Army, choking the rivers with all the men he'd killed)

(Maureen Crawford was awarded with an Australian Bravery Decoration by the Governor-General Quentin Bryce for her actions that saved a pilot’s life.)

Australia. In your incessant desire to celebrate mediocrity, you again overstep the mark. Not everyone can be a hero. If everyone is a hero, then the title becomes meaningless and adds no value to the description of the person. However, all I hear in the media, including vox pop interviews from real people, is the ordainment of yet another Aussie hero. And every single time the same media asks the hero how they feel about the title, every single time, the accused responds in a half-arsed thinly veiled attempt at false modesty, "I'm not a hero. Anyone would have done it."

Real Heroes:

Achilles
Ajax
Theseus
Hercules
Maureen Crawford

Heroes in General:

People who attempted to save someone but didn't
People who attempted to save someone, didn't and then died
People who didn't attempt to save anyone, but thought about it

Heroes Invented to Inspire Greatness, but only inspire kids to wear their clothes wrong:

Spiderman
Superman
Batman
Captain America
X-Men
Bogan Man

Pseudo Aussie Heroes:

Every child with a terminal illness
Most professional footy players
Victims of the Bali Bombs
Victims of the Bali Belly
People who did something good for the community
People who did something good for the community, and died
All our athletes who won an international sporting competition
All our athletes who died during their sport, even if they'd won nothing
Kids who call 000 when their parents have heart attacks
Kids who call "1311166" Pizza Hut when their parents have heart attacks
Kangaroos who call O'Briens Glass Repair when their owners collapse
Soldiers who fight in war and then somehow die
Horses that win national horse races, even the ones from New Zealand













WOOMELANG resident Bev Wall has been named the Local Hero of the Year in the Australian of the Year Victorian awards. Not only had Ms Wall taken over the post office when it was about to close but had also helped organise groceries and fuel for the town when those services folded. (The Wimmera Times - 19 Nov, 2008 10:04 AM)

Wow!

Dinky-di Aussie hero

(The Age.com - May 2, 2004)
After a stormy night, Mr Richards went to look at a fallen tree on his property at Tanjil South, north of Moe. He was struck unconscious by a falling branch, and might have died but for Lulu croaking out alarm signals which were heard 100 metres away at his home, bringing his family to his rescue.

Aussie heroes left to history

- Mark Juddery, The Courier-Mail, November 16, 2007 11:00PM

Aussie 'heroes' land crippled plane

- ABC News, Wed Apr 14, 2010 4:51pm

I'm no hero says Aussie soldier with VC

- Julian Drape and Cathy Alexander, January 16, 2009

Tania Morrison – A True Aussie Hero

- From 0 to $2.5 Million Dollars in Property in 3 Years

- Realwealthaustralia.com

Jessica Watson's hero homecoming

- All Australian Media, May 2010

It’s time we had true blue hero: Adam Gilchrist

- Phillip Hudson, the Herald Sun, January 25, 2010 6:58AM

'Aussie hero' Private Ranaudo farewelled

- Sydney morning Herald, July 31, 2009

Aussie Hero

- An Australian brand of microwavable burgers and rolls

For god's sake, Australia. Heed the tenets of our great thinkers. Listen to the immortal wisdom of the ancient philosopher and wig-stylist
Tina Turner, "We don't need another hero."

Why Do We Send Our Kids to School?

The principal goal of education in the schools should be creating men and women who are capable of doing new things, not simply repeating what other generations have done; men and women who are creative, inventive and discoverers, who can be critical and verify, and not accept, everything they are offered. --Jean Piaget

The positive emotion which should supply the motive in education is curiosity, but the curiosity of the young is severely repressed in many directions—sexual, theological, and political. Instead of being encouraged in the practice of free inquiry, children are instructed in some brand of orthodoxy, with the result that unfamiliar ideas inspire them with terror rather than with interest. --Bertrand Russell

If we agree that the purpose of education should be civilisation, then we need to overhaul the Government's current schooling approach, which Piaget and Russell refer to above - 80 years ago.

Civilisation has, without any surprise, changed since the days when children were given the tools to live and serve within their social class and no more. It is time to change the way we educate the young accordingly.

Today's civilisation involves battling a daily onslaught of complex problems created on purpose or by accident by a complex society that demands far more from its citizens than just paying taxes. Unlike our Grandparents, we are constantly tricked, teased, baited and deceived into having all our money taken from us - even money we haven't earned yet. Unlike our Grandparents, we are constantly bombarded by the media, which we are already dependent upon for our knowledge of society, with the fear of death and morbidity from a thousand different and new diseases, accidents and horrors in the work-place, at home, on the streets and overseas. Unlike our Grandparents, both modern parents work full-time and for long hours, coming home to chores and commitments that piled up while they were away, being driven more by guilt than other feelings to spend what little time is left with their children.

Should we prepare our children for the horrors and complexities of modern living, or leave them to it? If we should prepare them, why aren't we? And if we aren't, how do we do it? Status quo?

And who teaches them? Parents? What are teachers for?

When will parents have the time to sit our children down and teach them how to be intelligent and prudent consumers, and responsible informed citizens?

From what text will average Joe Dad refer to in teaching little Jimmy the pitfalls of owning bank accounts, managing a budget, mitigating debt, investing in shares, saving for a mortgage (if the ability to buy a house is even possible by the time their generation grows up)?

How do we find the time to detail the warning indicators of corruption, of pernicious commercial behaviour and how to council strangers, to manage difficult personalities, to make friends more easily, to identify and deal with inimical approaches, to argue more cogently, to speak publicly? How does a labourer prepare his children for litigation, receiving a court summons, finding a lawyer, signing a contract? How does a lawyer prepare her children for dodgy workmanship?

If schooling aims at the social objective of improving civilisation, improving the way individuals act with each other, thus improving people's lives and then the health of society, and all this through education, then should we not look very carefully at what we are teaching them and ensure it will actually achieve these grand goals?

Or should we just drop the kids off cause the law says we have to, and pick them up when they're eventually let out? Scold them for poor reports and buy them prizes for good ones? Read over their maths and English homework like a conveyor-belt worker at the local assembly plant?

Perhaps we should pay no attention to whether basic school education produces a prepared citizen. Perhaps we should recall alternative reasons for schooling. As Sir Humphrey observed, the reason the British school-leaving age was raised to 16 was to keep jobless teenagers off the streets.

Wankers and Idiots

There are two kinds of arseholes in the world: wankers and idiots.

Wankers piss you off on purpose. Idiots piss you off by accident.

Wankers piss you off because they enjoy not only watching human suffering (they have extremely well developed schadenfreud), but they enjoy causing it in the first place – it adds an element of power to the entertainment.

Idiots are just plain stupid. Idiots are careless and awareless. They have no self-awareness and screw up your plans, your evening, your career, your hair, your suit, your order, just because they don’t have a good brain.

Both sets of arseholes lack the faculties, the human qualities, of sympathy and empathy: knowing how another feels or trying to know, concern for others, compassion, whatever you want to call it.

Of all the times your life is made that much more annoying, unbearable or just shite-house, you will find almost all of those events were the direct result of the intention of a wanker or unintention of an idiot. Either way, most of your misery and suffering in life has been and will be the result of your interaction with wankers and idiots. It is not the case that the bulk of your suffering was or will be caused by accident, fate, coincidence, natural disaster or psychological over-sensitivity to external stimuli.

The few times in your life that wankers and idiots are not the genesis of life-shite, you can put it down to your own deficiencies or acts of god.

The fact that you say you don’t care what other people think or do, or that other people don’t affect you at all, has no bearing on the matter at all. Not feeling heart-surgery does not mean you’re not having it. Many of us walk around aneasthetised to the environment and its surrounding pillocks. Whether you are thick-skinned or not, wankers and idiots are still going to f**k your life up. How you respond to that is a different matter.

The wanker and the idiot are the two types of human being most responsible for the greater proportion of human suffering and misery throughout history.

The bearers of such qualities need to be identified and held accountable, publically rebuked, punished and bred out.

If societies wish to reduce human suffering within their communities, they will need to come down hard on wankers and crush idiots. The first step is awareness and identification, which is the purpose of this blog topic or blopic.

To aid in the identification process and to help you understand the subtleties and intricacies of wankership and idiotism, I have provided a 'wine list' of arseholes below - the particular blend and a short description:

The Delivery Idiot

I took the morning off from work to wait for the delivery guy to return our washing machine, which had had a broken thermostat replaced. After a couple of hours, two yobbos turned up in a delivery van.

We walked around the house to decide the best approach for manoeuvering the machine from the van to the laundry. Finally, we decided on a course of action. I followed them back to the van. The delivery guy opened up the van, climbed in and then started scratching his head.

He looked at his clip-board and looked at the fridge and furniture in the van.

He then said, “Ummm…”.

I said “What’s wrong?”.

He said, “I think we left your washing machine back at the shop.”

I paused and tried to process the information. Their job is pretty simple in theory. Take stuff from the shop and drive it to people’s houses. They were probably instructed on the intricacies of the concept of ‘delivery’ near the beginning of their employment... say, the job advert, “Delivery Drivers Wanted”.

Had they missed a lesson? Or, was there something I was missing? Some complexity the general public was not aware of? Was the science of washing machine delivery more prone to the uncertainties of metaphysical anomalies than most of us had ever thought?

I pondered on Plato’s account of Socrates' Delivery-boy Dialogues. Nothing. Or was it Descartes, I deliver, therefore I am… forgetful. Again, nothing. After concluding from common-sense that these guys were just stupid, I shook my head and walked back inside with the delivery idiot promising to go back and get my washing machine.

Post Script: After finally installing the washing machine, we had to call in the repairer because they had replaced the thermostat, but forgotten to connect it.

The Call-Centre Wanker

[thick Hindi accent] Hello, my name is Steve. Can I start with your customer reference number please?

Hi Steve. Oh, sorry Steve, but I'm not sure which Steve I'm talking to. Can you first give me your call-centre reference number please?

Can you give me your name please, Sir?

Yes. My name is Mr John Smith.

Thanks, John.

That's Mr Smith to you, Steve.

Can I put you on hold?

No.

Thank you! (hangs up)

The Office Wanker

The Unspoken Rules of the Office:

1) Never, ever, fart at work, unless in a toilet or outside.
2) I'm not really interested in your weekend, I'm just being polite. Don't go on about it.
3) Always try not to shit at work. Regulate your bowels for Christ's sake. It's disgusting!
4) Stop being nosey! I don't feel like telling you my hopes and dreams.
5) Stop going on about yourself. You're not that amazing. Write a book about yourself and go fucking read it!
6) Before you leave for work in the morning, look in a mirror. Would you wanna see that all day?

The Cinema-going Wanker/Flick Idiot

Kicks the back of your seat.

Conducts a full-scale conversation and commentary throughout the movie.

Thinks they're still in the cafe'.

Generally Noisey Wankers and Loud Idiots

Wankers and Idiots are partially deaf.

Part of what makes a wanker a supreme arsehole is their ability to produce noise. Think about it. Think of all the occasions where you have been disturbed by loud noises in any situation:

- Cars breaking heavily, spinning their wheels, over-revving, tooting, cell phone conversations and loud ringtones, public arguing, nervous tapping, sniffing, scuffing, laughing and jabbering in quiet places etc.

Who is actually producing all this noise? Your grandmother? The Prime Minister? No.

Wankers and Idiots engage in the production of noise. They yell when they talk. They toot hello and goodbye to each other in their cars. They yell when they talk on their mobiles… because it's so quiet in restaurants, on buses and in cinemas. It’s so quiet, they think their listener can’t hear, so they yell over the deafening silence.

Shut up you arseholes! SHUT UUUUUUPPPP!!!

A Pack of Wankers

By himself, his behaviour would resemble that of a 13 year-old choir girl walking through a bikers' bar at midnight on Friday... But in a group of friends, he is the sexiest, most bullet-proof, awesome God-man that ever crawled the earth.

A Pack of Wankers is a universal, interdependent collective of F-wits that operates as one individual wanker. The glue that holds the pack together is proximity - get one of the little shites by himself and he'll fold like a cheap suit.

The Idiot Driver

Tail-gaters.

Head-lights on during the sunny days.

Births right for a left turn.

Indicates only by accident.

Races to the red light.

The Idiot Cyclist

"I'm driving a car!"

Rides in the middle of the road.

Cuts corners, through red lights, bounces from road to footpath.

Hey, Spandex-Man. You are not a car. But, I am driving one and her favourite colour is tomato puree.

The Idiot Rule-Follower

I’m sorry, Sir, but our policy is not to give out that information.

That has never been done before, Sir.

No-one has ever asked that question before, Sir.

Computer says, "No."

Queuing twice at the Post Office, because you've got to pick-up a parcel and post one: two different jobs, two different queues.

Zig-zagging through 20 metres of empty queue-maze to get to the cashier at the cinema. How dumb do you feel as everyone watches you take the longest distance between two points? I'm sorry, Sir, but you are going to have to queue.

Famous Wankers

Saddam Hussein. What a f**king wanker. Mass graves have been unearthed in Iraq since Saddam's reign and bespeak the horrors of his rule. Among the occupants of these graves are 100,000 Kurdish men, women, children and babies machine-gunned to death and nerve gassed during the 1988 Anfal genocide; 30,000 Shiites and Kurds slaughtered after the 1991 uprising; countless Shiites killed during the 1980s because of their perceived sympathy for Iran; genocide of the so-called Marsh Arabs, killed as the Iraqi government drained the marshes and destroyed a culture that had thrived for centuries; and many individual Iraqis of all faiths and ethnicities who were singled out, their lives ended, for real or perceived opposition to the regime. (source: Human Rights Watch)

Images: Saddam upsets photographer; Saddam authorising his cousin Ali Mazin (Chemical Ali) to murder 10,000 Kurdish men, women, children and babies with nerve gas bombs dropped into their villages in one morning.

Idiot Flag-burning Wankers

Terrorists: Wanker-diots

Terrorists are wankers. However, they are also bloody stupid idiots.

What kind of drivel-head thinks incinerating school children is one of the most proud actions a human can achieve, because some guy told him that God told him so?

This is where the seriousness of this blog comes to bear. We need to obliviate all signs of wanker and idiot behaviour, because it's actually quite lethal. Wankers and idiots kill and maim. Terrorists in the form the religious nut-jobs we have seen since 9/11 have made that fact abominably clear.

Terrorism is a marriage between idiots and the wankers who control them. Being stupid makes you more inclined to be led by wankers and used by them to satisfy their high-level schadenfreud. In terrorism, a pack of religious wankers gets another pack of religious and miserable, disaffected idiots to carry out their stupid ideology.

Infamous Idiots

George Bush. What a f**king idiot. But who’s worse? Him or the f**k-knuckle morons who voted for him? Twice?

George Bush won the US Presidency because most voters could relate to him: a straight-talking, poorly educated, know-nothing guy - a model of the average American voter. Instead of voting for their betters, Americans decided to choose someone who was just an ordinary guy like anyone else. What a pack of idiots.

This should start you on your journey to identify and deal with the worst scum in society. From here, you can commence your own campaign to rid the planet of wankers and idiots through whatever means works. I'm underway with my plan... the best of luck to each of us!