Well it’s all done and dusted; Christmas and New Year has come and gone in rush of violently impersonal commercialism and fake smiles at office parties the world over. Despite the desperate world recession children have been gifted overpriced, soul sucking, electronic devices and High School cunting musical 19 DVD’s to keep them from accidently clapping their tear-filled, bloodshot eyes on the news that man is oppressing fellow man with rockets, bombs and bullets even during this most “holy” time of year.
Peace and good will to all men! (Unless you are different to me then you can have a 155mm shell up yer fucking jumper).

It’s madness I tell ye! But at least now you can go back to being unfriendly to your neighbours and fall back on the odd, safe facebook “poke” to people that you only added in the first place so you can keep a jealous eye on their apparently active social lives.

Even as a revolutionary thinker, a champion of free thought, liberty and equality I find the Christmassy time of year very confusing too. I guiltily catch myself wishing giant assassin droids would descend from space, their spiked death-wheels pulping the laser seared corpses of my hapless brothers and sisters. Maybe it’s getting shoved aside as desperate parents clamour to get the last Hannah “whore of Satan” Montana CD or perhaps it’s just the fact that everyone alike insanely crowds every shopping centre and high street pissing money from their bank accounts into the rabid cumchoked mouths of personality obliterating multinationals.

The paradox of Christmas is that on the face of it - the celebration of the birth of Christ, the son of god, bringer of peace and love to all nations is in itself a lie. The memory of hijacking pagan celebrations by the church have long since passed away into the mists of fervent marketing and opportunist businesses raping every penny from guilty families and friends who you never normally hear from during the year.
Where are these noble and ancient pagans who could claim back the abandoned sacred rites? Where are the mighty, wode smeared barbarians to defend the original faith of the downtrodden people of this island?

In fucking Argos with every other cunt.

It is your duty as a parent, brother, sister, mother, father, sinister uncle, crazy man wearing a sandwich board heralding the apocalypse on the street to facilitate the revolution. Education begins in your very living rooms and workplaces enlighten your fellow man for the time has come to rise up and make your voices heard.
As long as it doesn’t mean you lose your job or upset your neighbours (sensible demonstrations between 9-6 is preferable)

For now all we can do is turn to the soothing and always current, hymn of Black Sabbath’s “War pigs” and down a bottle of sleeping tablets in the hope that when we wake up everything will have fixed itself and we can go back to finish the washing up and settle down for my soon to come new game show “celebrity suicide”