we all want kids. but really...

Being a man of impeccable taste; spending my nights in reading the latest issue of FHM (no ladies, it's not actually a porn mag, get your facts right) slowing nibbling on a pack of hobnobs, and browsing The Sun online, I find it hilarious to come across an article entitled...

Benefits cheat mum invented 10 children

Now, if you fancy re-reading the sentence above, be my guest, because it took me several times before I finally got it drummed into my head. No, not because I'm slightly of the stupid nature and I cannot read, but because I was shocked and entertained by what I read. A British mother; a mother of two mind you, who for the record are not disabled as she said in a claim to get more benefits, wants more money. Spends her daytime sitting on her 'poor' ass all day whilst caring for her other 10 kids. The only problem is - those 10 kids are not real! Now, we've all heard the ploy of making up a kid or two to claim more benefits (if you haven't then it's probably just my weird mind) but to come up with 10 kids is just plain silly.

You miss, are a silly billy.

I do have three problems with the subject. Three problems that are causing me a lot of stress and I really shouldn't be stressing over them. 

#1. Did she name each one? I mean, did she think of a gender? Did she convert rooms of the house so each one could have a bedroom? Imagine if she had family or friends round, or a social worker maybe - "where are the kids?"... "oh, they're all down Lidl getting my shopping" It wouldn't work for long.

#2. A family friend knew about the whole f**king scheme! "She was then told about this foolish scheme by a friend. She was always going to be caught." The article doesn't mention whether it was this friend who 'dobbed' her in, but come on, who would know something like this and not let anyone know. Yes you may use the excuse of being a 'good friend' but if you think about it theoretically, that mum of 12 (whose name by the way should be dually noted - Sarah Jane Smith, and I will get on to that subject) is claiming benefits from the government. These benefits are made up from taxes by your everyday tax payer. Also known as, the friend who found out! She is paying for John and Susan and Edgar and Boris and Nancy and all the rest of the 'children' to live their fictional made-up lives. 

#3. Sarah Jane Smith. Sarah Jane 'f**king' Smith! Now, either that is a codename used by the paper to cover up her real identity or her parents genuinely went on a journey with Doctor Who and felt it necessary to pay homage to the mans most well known assistant. Now one of her kids better be called Davros or I'm taking action! And I bet she's using some of the claimed money, a whopping £42.000, to keep her dog, ironically named K-9, in good health. 

But reading this article has given me a proper insight into how low some of the nation will go to get the money others quite clearly deserve. Sarah Jane obviously felt her 10 fictional kids came before every other real child in this country. 

Or she could be using the money to build her own TARDIS?

veni,vidi,vici

veni,vidi,vici

It's the year 2012. The months have already 

breezed into a cold, rainy March. The United 

Kingdom is in great peril, being on the verge

of an internet shut-down and not only that but

the country is being run by David Cameron.

Darth Vader didn't die, he just exiled from the 

planet many years ago after loosing a lightsaber 

battle to Boris Johnson. Luke Skywalker is now 

working in TK MAXX in Croydon and Princess Leia 

and Hans Solo have 15 kids; 6 with ASBO's.

A new hero must step in.

... Unfortunately, Charlie Chaplin died 35 years ago. 
So another, less funny and less wacky, hero has been 
picked for the job.

JACKSON TIGWELL! *cue cheesy intro music*

"... So you're back, from outer space. I just walked in to find you here with that sad look upon your face..." 

First and foremost, for all the new readers, I'm Jackson. I write and do photography stuffs. For all the golden oldies, I'm back from a long period of doing sweet F-all, eating hobnobs and watching old re-runs of Top Gear. I would be lying if I said I was kidding. Only joking, about the whole "I'd be lying if I said I was kidding", which isn't true. And neither is the whole doing sweet F-all bit. No really, I've been swamped with an intolerable amount of coursework and nowadays spend most of my work wages on food, beer and clothes. To all those who noticed, I've changed the blog name and redesigned it - ain't that a kick in the head... 

It's funny how a little break from writing an absolute load of tosh can play with your mind. The last time you heard from me, I was in a bit of a pickle with friends abandoning me, I was getting pretty down and I wanted to eat my body weight in hobnobs (I just added that bit in tehehe). I can admit fully that what I wrote prior to this is absolute crap, and I really cannot promise anything from here-on-in. 

But what I can say is that from now on, I will be writing every day. Some of the posts will have morals, some won't. Some will be cheery, some won't. Some will be so utterly random that if you read this before bed you probably won't get any sleep because you'll be lying awake all night questioning your own existence... I do this frequently, and it really pisses me off. Why am I here God? Tell me why you invisible, heavenly, bearded twat?! *cough cough*

But fret not my little 'goonies', for I will try to entertain you.

                                                 Some way. Some how.

veni,vidi,vici

A melancholy town where we never smile...

Our feelings easily cloud our own judgment, and it's stupid to think that everything, or everybody, in this world is 'practically perfect in every way'. Like I said in my last post, I'm in an empty space at the moment, a limbo-esque sort of environment, and even though it's only in my mind, it's still the way I'm feeling inside and out. Everything is perfect to everybody, but me. I can see peoples flaws and life's flaws. Similar to the meaning of the song Feel Good Inc. by Gorillaz...

"You've got a new horizon, It's ephemeral style.

A melancholy town where we never smile.

And all I wanna hear is the message beep.

My dreams, they've got to kiss, because I don't get sleep, no..."

But I'm going to stay on top of this feeling, this shit feeling. I'm going to cover my eyes up once more, so I won't see the real truth about how shit life can be. So I can play pretend in a nicer place. 

Rant over.

"I love being alone, but hate being left out."

I believe that being alone is a great feeling; we all enjoy time to ourselves because we can relax and unwind. Then again, the feeling of being with friends, mucking about and generally having a laugh, is an even better feeling. What we hate is the feeling when you're in a close group of friends and they all organise events or time together and miss you out. We hate it - it's our instinct to hate it. It leads us to wonder whether we are actually part of the group.

At school, primary and/or secondary, we meander into a group of people who can't necessarily relate to us; you are friends with them because you enjoy the company of each other and because you have some others to talk to. When you arrive at college and university, it's a totally different plate of food, excuse the expression. You find a certain group of people who for once, are fully interested in the same past times and activities as yourself. 

The fact is, I'm stuck at the moment in the limbo between social breakthrough and loneliness of the fourth degree. I feel that my group of friends, who relate to me in every way possible; we're all wacky, expressionistic and incredibly outgoing; don't really find me a part of their 'family' so-to-speak, because they're all on a 24/7 course and I'm completing 3 A-Levels. I don't see them every day and I feel that because of this, I'm drifting from their group, and I hate the fact I'm isolated from them.

I'm eighteen in two days, and several of my lovelies are turning eighteen either this week too, or over the next few weeks, and hopefully being able to participate in nights out and gatherings, travel too, will get my loneliness to piss off. But I suppose that being lonely at some point in our lives helps us realise what we've got, what we had and what we need. Knowing those things helps us to become, not a different person, but a better and more confident person.

"Writing is an antidote for loneliness." - Steven Berkoff