No. 49 Pirates and Pillocks

It’s hard to convey with words the wanton despair or complete lack of enthusiasm Jeffman feels for anything in this world on an almost daily basis. So he won’t. But it seems that some folk have no trouble entering into the spirit of things, and indeed, taking it that one step too far.

Despite ‘Talk Like a Pirate Day’ falling on Sept. 19th annually, and lasting for precisely 24 hours, the Somali leg of the organisation appear to have gotten the wrong end of the stick and are under the misapprehension that it is in fact a yearlong event. What’s more, they’ve thrown themselves into the festivities with a little too much gusto and started swiping ships across the high seas, as if it’s going out of fashion.

However, from the photographs of captured pirates I’ve seen over the past few years, it is evident that when it comes to the dressing up part they must try harder.

Of all the pirates that have been rounded up and herded off of a Navy Gunship under the watchful eye of an AK-47 assault rifle, not one has been sporting a jaunty tri-corner hat; an eye-patch; a peg-leg; or a bloody parrot.

It would seem that these pirate characters’ absolute commitment to the cause has to be called into question. As will my judgement in writing this if any of the latest batch of hostages wind up riddled with bullets.

And even as these acts of piracy continue to escalate; further atrocities are committed in the Congo; the far-right continues its rise across Europe; and the world as a whole slides a few feet closer to the jaws of hell; the renowned British slum press continue their obsession with the cult (surely a spelling mistake. Ed) of so-called celebrity.

This week marked the beginning of another series of I’m a Celebrity… Get Me Out Of Here! in which a festering pustule of nobodies, operating under the misnomer of ‘celebrity’, are paid huge amounts of cash to parade themselves around the Antipodean  jungle. Once again disproving Darwin’s theory of evolution as they and others of their ilk demonstrate how low they’ll sink to sport the title of ‘celebrity’ – and thus bolster their deluded sense of superiority over the rest of us – and get their slimy, grasping hands on a bit of easy cash in the process. Money for nothing and your pricks for free.

I won’t even cheapen this blog by reeling off the names of the aforementioned non-entities. I doubt whether anyone would know who they were if I did.

Speaking of which, the ‘Moral minority’ are up in arms again, just weeks after the Russell Brand/ Jonathan Ross lunacy. This time they have Geordie sock-puppets Ant and Dec, presenters of the aforementioned programme, in their sights. This is apparently for a repeated use of the word ‘bollocks’, during a ‘witty’ exchange 28 minutes after the 9pm watershed.

This was on the televisual treat where the afore-mentioned micro-celebs are buried in coffins filled with rats, covered from head to toe in fly pupae, and fed kangaroo testicles, scabby dog’s anuses, and maggots the size of my thumb. All in the name of entertainment.

It would seem the rabid members of the moral outrage brigade find a few ‘bollocks’ being bandied about, ten times worse than any of the above.

If they get their way, there’s little hope for any of us.

You have been warned!

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