Policy #1: Coke is free in bars and restaurants, much like tap water
How to work it: It'll probably be a bit of a logistical nightmare at first, right, but with a shuffle around of current taxes and stuff then it should be possible to make it so that no-one loses out, and potentially we (me and my co-tyrants) gain, in this deal.
First of all, coke (I should have clarified; I did of course mean Coca Cola, not the class A drug. More on that later) are going to want a big payout from us to facilitate all these barrels of their stuff that we are going to need. So we will amp up the taxes a bit on some other bits and pieces here and there to make up for that. If people complain its like, so what, you get free coke now? I'd happily pay an extra 22p per bottle of wine from Tesco, say, for the chance to have free coke with every meal or social function where I would be driving (theoretically that is, I should probably get a license first). Just imagine that. Coke, for free. You pay nothing, and get as many ice cold cokes as you want. Who would have water then? Only vegans and women, probably.
Anyway, raising taxes may not be an issue. Because, luckily, coke is really quite bad for you. So now everyone is going on mad coke binges, bouncing around the streets powered by caffiene and sugar (diet coke is of course still full price in this scenario). At first they are just belching at each other and suffering from communal halitosis but it won't be long until their teeth are falling out when they chew anything tougher than a yoghurt, their stomachs are one giant, throbbing ulcer and they are one square of dairy milk away a from fatal diabetic coma.
How is this lucky? Well, thank FUCK for the tory government that came before me, the greedy fucks, because they only went and messed around with the NHS. Now what with it being all private and that, they can charge whatever they like (I've only got a basic understanding of how this works because I don't care enough to research it, but I'm assuming that to arrive at this hunky dory situation, they will have had to greased some palms somewhere, so a portion of their revenue is more than likely going to be depositing itself into my savings account on a monthly basis). With this in mind, insulin will now be triple the price: want to silence the demons of your nagging coke addiction with a drop of the sweet sweet treacle that has snared you? Fill your veins with this so you don't die as you do it, only fifty quid a pop. Want to be able to chew solids? Here, we will fix you with some dentures to cover the crumbly stumps of your former teeth. Just sign on the dotted line, and hand us your pension plan. God, I'm going to be rich.
There are obviously a few things to be worked out, but at the end of the day it is all going to be worth it, because EVERYBODY, literally EVERYBODY, simply cannot wait to be able to consume coke for free, day in day out, until it tears them apart, a giant shaft of hardened cola sediment rips them in two (much like the alien in Alien when it fucks that bloke's chest) leaving them a wasted pile of part dissolved, rotten flesh. Their dying words: "another...coke...ice...but...no lemon please..."
They just don't know it yet.
Next week: Policy #2 and #3 - Why paedophiles should run after-school clubs and a new naming system for Britain's Motorways, based on T.S. Eliot's The Waste Land.
Monday, 21 February 2011
Thursday, 10 February 2011
The Little Girl
IT NEEDS (serious) EDITING BUT I CAN'T BE ARSED
The little girl was in the park with her mummy,
taking their dog out for a walk.
She was eating an ice cream in a cone;
not a Mr Whippy, but one of those
fancy ones from the stalls with Italian sounding names;
it looked like it was raspberry ripple.
The dog suddenly started sprinting
towards something he had seen in the distance.
The little girl giggled with glee, and followed
at top speed, ice cream clutched in her hands.
(Two months earlier, in the same park, a youth
named Lee was working,
putting in new paving slabs along the path.
It was 4:45pm on a Friday night and his boss
was yelling at him: "hurry up! Finish the ****ing
job so we can go home!"
Lee was displeased, not least because of
the bosses' spittle, splashed across his cheek.
So he rushed through the last few slabs
(the last three he barely even cemented.)
Then he sloped off
to smoke cannabis with his mates
and throw stones off the pedestrian bridge
that went over the A2 near his home.)
The dog showed no sign of slowing down.
He remained unaware of the fact that
the little girl had caught her little red sandal
on the edge of an unsecured paving slab,
and was sprawled across the path.
She was crying and her knee was grazed.
The raspberry ripple lay, cone pointing up,
the (now dirty) pink scoop splattered across the slab.
The little girl was in the park with her mummy,
taking their dog out for a walk.
She was eating an ice cream in a cone;
not a Mr Whippy, but one of those
fancy ones from the stalls with Italian sounding names;
it looked like it was raspberry ripple.
The dog suddenly started sprinting
towards something he had seen in the distance.
The little girl giggled with glee, and followed
at top speed, ice cream clutched in her hands.
(Two months earlier, in the same park, a youth
named Lee was working,
putting in new paving slabs along the path.
It was 4:45pm on a Friday night and his boss
was yelling at him: "hurry up! Finish the ****ing
job so we can go home!"
Lee was displeased, not least because of
the bosses' spittle, splashed across his cheek.
So he rushed through the last few slabs
(the last three he barely even cemented.)
Then he sloped off
to smoke cannabis with his mates
and throw stones off the pedestrian bridge
that went over the A2 near his home.)
The dog showed no sign of slowing down.
He remained unaware of the fact that
the little girl had caught her little red sandal
on the edge of an unsecured paving slab,
and was sprawled across the path.
She was crying and her knee was grazed.
The raspberry ripple lay, cone pointing up,
the (now dirty) pink scoop splattered across the slab.
In Superdrug
Richard was hovering in the aisle for 'Mens Products'.
The deodorant was giving him grief; there was just
too much choice. He had narrowed it down to two:
this one had 'forty-eight hour protection' and also
contained bits of silver.
This one had an 'extra cool scent'.
Richard debated.
Richard dilly-dallied.
Of course, forty-eight hours was the safe option.
It would mean application could be more spaced out.
He closed his eyes and rubbed them with the
palms of his hands, and as he did so the words
'extra cool' flashed up, in various technicolours.
He couldn't resist. After all, only clouds have
silver linings (well, clouds and expensive wristwatches)
and maybe smelling extra cool might mean
he could finally attract a girl to be his wife.
Women like people that are extra cool, don't they?
He took his selection up to the cashier,
a thirty-something, peroxide blonde woman
with beetroot coloured lipstick. She asked him
if there was anything else that he needed (he said no)
and as he handed over the cash (£2.85) their
fingers brushed. As he left the shop,
a smile teased the corners of Richard's mouth.
The deodorant was giving him grief; there was just
too much choice. He had narrowed it down to two:
this one had 'forty-eight hour protection' and also
contained bits of silver.
This one had an 'extra cool scent'.
Richard debated.
Richard dilly-dallied.
Of course, forty-eight hours was the safe option.
It would mean application could be more spaced out.
He closed his eyes and rubbed them with the
palms of his hands, and as he did so the words
'extra cool' flashed up, in various technicolours.
He couldn't resist. After all, only clouds have
silver linings (well, clouds and expensive wristwatches)
and maybe smelling extra cool might mean
he could finally attract a girl to be his wife.
Women like people that are extra cool, don't they?
He took his selection up to the cashier,
a thirty-something, peroxide blonde woman
with beetroot coloured lipstick. She asked him
if there was anything else that he needed (he said no)
and as he handed over the cash (£2.85) their
fingers brushed. As he left the shop,
a smile teased the corners of Richard's mouth.
Monday, 7 February 2011
Tim
Tim was aware he was a protagonist
of a poem.
He decided, "enough is enough",
and brought the poem
to an end.
spot the obvious reference to contemporary poet/comedian.
of a poem.
He decided, "enough is enough",
and brought the poem
to an end.
spot the obvious reference to contemporary poet/comedian.
Sunday, 6 February 2011
You Were Lonely
"Do you remember that time, fifty years ago, when everything got quite hard?" he said.
"Yes, I do." I replied.
"It didn't ever get much easier, did it?"
"No, not much."
"Thank God we are here now, though. At least we stuck it out."
I took a drag on my cigar. Yes, at least we stuck it out.
"Yes, I do." I replied.
"It didn't ever get much easier, did it?"
"No, not much."
"Thank God we are here now, though. At least we stuck it out."
I took a drag on my cigar. Yes, at least we stuck it out.
Thursday, 3 February 2011
two mediums
Playscript
[underpinned by thudding techno]
Jennifer: How come you're late?
David: I got distracted.
Jennifer: Oh really?
David: Yeah.
Jennifer: Ok...
David: I wasn't wanking.
Poetry
John wanted to give Ella
a kiss on the cheek
but Ella wasn't there.
She'd gone on a bike ride.
She'd be back soon.
(It'll probably be one medium next time you are here)
[underpinned by thudding techno]
Jennifer: How come you're late?
David: I got distracted.
Jennifer: Oh really?
David: Yeah.
Jennifer: Ok...
David: I wasn't wanking.
Poetry
John wanted to give Ella
a kiss on the cheek
but Ella wasn't there.
She'd gone on a bike ride.
She'd be back soon.
(It'll probably be one medium next time you are here)
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