Apathy UK

Driving at speed with the desire to get home to the beachside bungalow at 10 pm with ice on the roads and two bald front tires left indentations on the steering wheel from my clenched fists. Life and limb are risked as a result of the apathy that flows throughout the system that governs certain aspects of decision making. Do I take two hours tomorrow to secure the safety of my vehicle or do I take the two pills tonight, that some kind soul left on the top of the TV after the last party, and sleep all day tomorrow? Well, let me see about that. Let's weigh the options, balance the benefits, adjust the scales slightly, realise there is only one sensible course of action and then ignore it blatantly and leave for the pub safe in the knowledge that when I stumble home hours from now I shall neck the two brown tablets without further thought. Which I did and now here I am. Sat on the sofa with Jack in front of the TV. Jack had a few beers at the pub too and now we are drinking a...

I have a few proper nouns to list. Firstly try these on for size: Elvis, Jim, Jimmy. Now try these: Mick, George, Lou. Everyone is expendable. Everyone knows the first three but struggle for the latter trio. Why? Well, because whilst the expendability is never in doubt, the lasting impression is. I have nothing more to say on the subject, it is obvious and I have better things to do. So, the Hunter is finally dead. His terrible and awful presence upon this sorry globe has come to an end at last, preceded by the curt cock of hammer and oily squeeze of trigger. I bet he used his magnum .44, with the extended barrel and optional optical sights. He probably would have taken the sights off as even an old and decrepit, foul-minded, drug-using spent invalid would have trouble missing a big ol' bald dome such as his from arm's length. He is gone now, spirit fled from Woody Creek, Colorado, away from his preening peacocks and bike and car and arsenal and information centre. Thank god he...

Adios Stockton, you Brilliant Nutbag.