Attack of the West End Trendies

I live in a nexus of places in Glasgow. One of those places is the West End of the city famed for people with accents that pay homage to the idea of being from Glasgow and ‘West End Trendies’, that is people like this that Limmy takes the piss out of in the below video.

Or indeed, now trendy and famous comic artist Frank Quitely in his Electric Soup days with his Wendy the West End Trendy strip.

About a minute’s walk from my flat is Finnieston, the trendiest of all West End trendy areas where one can quite literally wade waist deep in people drooling about this week’s new craft ale or that antique dress they saw. It displays the sort of pretension that makes Stokes Croft in Bristol look like Chelmsford on a Saturday night when Chelsea are at home.

On the whole these slaves to fashion are relatively harmless, but I’ve been warned of the ”ironic’ Buckfast drinker since coming back to Glasgow, and today on the train home from work I saw one in the wild for the first time.It was a sight to see someone in their best hipster jumper sip from a bottle of Buckfast while braying at his equally repellent friend brayed back at him. Fortunately I had to get off before I threw up my pelvis but seriously, if you’re ‘ironically’ drinking Buckfast then you’re just a bit of a dick. I can just about tolerate all the other bits of wankiness, but this whole ‘let’s play at being poor’ shtick is a game for pricks.

Next time I get sniffy at people who stand around by entrances looking lost while blocking the way in/out. Grrrrr…..

When I Look at You, You’re Forgiven

There’s some people who manage to sail through life avoiding the raindrops of pain and horror but when you see them all you want to do is introduce them to the concept of hospital food fed to them via a drip. Most of these people tend to be M.P’s, employers, Piers Morgan.

Especially Piers Morgan. Look at his face!

Jesus, it was made for random acts of violence…

Some other people you just want to scream at. Loudly. You just want to shout at them until your teeth explode. These people tend to be workmates you like (as opposed to the ones you’d happily see turned into glue) but are an arsehole sometimes, or mates down the pub, or more commonly partners.

I’ve had several girlfriends who I utterly adored, and in some cases still do long after the fact. However one look at them and I’d forgive them for after all, I was probably an arsehole, or we didn’t actually speak properly to each other or some stupid breakdown of communication happened to be topped off probably by me doing something extraordinarily stupid. Even if they’d done something daft I couldn’t stay angry, as one look at them would remind me that I was a jammy bastard and that I should let it go as 99% of the time there wasn’t a problem.

The sort of screaming and shouting (not that I was one for screaming and shouting, much) people do at each other is not what relationships are about, neither is wanting to commit violence upon each other. Committing violence upon people should be reserved for Piers Morgan, I mean, have to seen his bis puffy smug face? Just look up at tit? Won’t you feel better feeling your fist bounce off it?

Perhaps Piers could rent his face out for people to relieve stress by pummeling the hell out of it?

Anyhow, all this rambling is to slowly introduce a few more blogs further down the line where I want to speak about people who’ve been important in my life which will include ex-girlfriends among other people.  The first such blog though will be important to anyone from Glasgow and familiar with AKA Books and Comics. It’s going to take a wee while longer to come out as it’s proving to be more painful to write than I expected, and I expected it to hurt like hell, but it’ll get there.

Til then just imagine smacking Piers Morgan in the big doughy face!

 

 

Crocodile Tears

A brief interruption from what would have either been a long post about my early life, or a bit more on how comics were distributed in the UK during the 70’s, but It was Margaret Thatcher’s funeral today and one last mockery is in order.

I’m meaning this picture especially:

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If anything sums up the sheer black horror of today then it’s this picture. You’ve got Cameron’s millionaire wife looking up to make sure she’s on camera, Cameron himself looking like he’s having a deathwank orgasm for Thatcher and Osborn’s pathetic crocodile tears.

I’ve seen Tories refer to Thatcher since she died as their ‘second mother’ which is actually pretty bloody scary when you think of how people like Osborn see her, and how many are trying to pretend she was more than what she was.

Personally I’d have chucked her in a skip and got G4S to take away three weeks later when they got their arse in gear. It’d have been a fitting way to sum up her legacy rather than an utter cunt crying for a myth and the press wanking over Thatcher’s granddaughter.

So as a proper memorial for Thatcher lets have this memory of her posing with her close personal friend and mass-murderer General Pinochet.

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Does anyone sane actually shed tears at the funeral of someone who supported, and supplied a murderer and a tyrant?

No, it’s only sociopaths like Osborn and those soulless Tory bastards today.

Next time it’s back to comics, or a bit of biography or maybe some filth.