Good Warning Everybody

I started the day with a litter pick. My instrument was made in China. It articulates in two or three unnecessary places, has a weird bend in the shaft (like some 1970's porn stud) and the claw remains a stubborn half inch open when you're attempting to grip something. It would be almost worth getting a bad back to ritually destroy it and simply bend over. There again, this could be distinctly unwise in the current socio-cultural climate. Why we all buy this crap I've no idea. Or rather I do know, and I must have a serious word with myself. 

As usual, after the herds of wildebeest have made their daily journey from shops, takeaways and schools, the pavements were covered with their ugly detritus. Dog shit by the pound, cans and bottles, pizza boxes, spent glue sniffing canisters, and enough sweetie wrappers to fill a diabetic hospital. There is the occasional surprise, however, such as full uneaten takeaway meals, crushed birds, rabbits and rats, and a new wave of little treats - used toilet paper apparently disgarded by conscientious dog owners, proudly cleaning up their pets' arses.

So I filled the dustbin liner and forced it into the empty litterbin at the top of the street. The bin's main function is to provide a blackboard for halfwits' nuggets of wisdom and Picasso type sketches of male genitalia. It's also a convenient target for urine, and sometimes a drum kit for wandering nocturnal drunks.

A think about our massive national debt, our welfare dependency, and crowds of people with big guts in thin t-shirts.

I go home.

Bonkers Breakfast time. The competing show on the other side has imploded because of nuclear ego meltdown. Only the ex-stars are left watching it, so Bonkers TV is riding high. It's the usual fare, but one or two brilliant faux pas emerge. An article on young school children being given reading support by octogenarian volunteers is immediately followed in the studio by one of the millionaire newsreaders reading just like the young child. Each word is uttered in strangled isolation - the apparent product of many failed elocution lessons. 

Then we were entertained by a shocking cultural reverse image -  the sort we're getting rather used to seeing these days. A group of convicted criminals, looking just like grim Soviet grandmasters, were shown quietly playing chess in prison. This was quickly succeeded by film of shouting, bobble hatted, placard waving youngsters, who were it seems.....

Medical doctors. 

No comment.

Instead, a question.

Should we build more prisons, or more hospitals?