Of the elderly, duffle coats and Coldplay.

I’m not feeling too hateful today, instead I’d like to share with you my thoughts on the joys that growing old will hold for myself and many others of my generation.

I feel, there is one definitive, iconic, and infinitely irritating sign of ageing.

I call it, the “age related colour blindness phenomenon.” You see it all the time. People get to their 30’s, they look respectable, nice suits, some nice informal shirts and what not for going out. All nice respectable colours, blacks, greys, whites, sometimes they get a bit spicy with some beige! That’s for the adventurous though…

Then, something happens… They hit 40; everything goes to shit.

You know the start of the Old Doctor Who series? That really psychedelic intro… Yea, it’s kind of like that, only with clothes… It’s like they wake up one morning and say to themselves,
“You know what! I should dress the way Doctor Who sounds!”

They start wearing completely things generally categorised as ‘bat shit crazy’.
“Yea, yea, this turquoise jumper would go well with brown ¾ length shorts and a.. red.. duffel-coat…”

It sounds funny, but it’s not, it’s fucking dangerous. I reckon a good 15 people die as an indirect result of badly dressed elderly people every year.

You’re walking down the street and suddenly you’re blinded by a psychedelic wave of colour, your sense of smell overcome by the familiar scent of peas and moth balls. You try to shield your eyes, but it’s too much! The all too familiar theme tune to Doctor Who plays as an homage to your distress as you’re vaporised by a beam of bad special effects firing in rapid succession from each of the buttons on the red duffle coat that seals your doom…

That episode of course never made it to air…

In fairness though, I can’t wait till I get old, I’m going to be a complete miserable bastard, well, more of a miserable bastard than I am already.

I really genuinely can’t wait. It’s going to be fantastic. There’s just so much to look forward to.

I mean, first off, there’s getting to watch the people I hate die. That’s something I’ll enjoy.

Come home from work one day at the young, British working age of 82, hoping I‘ll make it to 100 so I can enjoy the benefits of my one year retirement, to find that Chris Martin has passed away…
“Aww, pity, there goes the last remaining member of Coldplay, THE MOST BORING BAND IN HISTORY!”

I think, if Hell exists It’ll more than likely be one big room filled with Coldplay fans waiting for a Coldplay gig. Coldplay won’t actually play though because it’s the only way Coldplay could be even more boring than they already are.

Coldplay: they don‘t really serve any real purpose to humanity, well, I say that, it’s not entirely true, I suppose, they do, in a way, serve as a fantastic argument for mandatory euthanasia…

Coincidentally, I hear the most humane way to go about euthanasia is just to talk to Chris Martin for a day or so. As far as their argument for euthanasia goes though, it’s right up there, along with Westlife’s acting as proof and the final argument that there is no God…

Chris Martin said, in 2004, “We really feel that we have to be away for a while and we certainly won’t release anything this year, because I think people are a bit sick of us.”
Oh Chris… If only you’d stuck to the plan.

He then went on to say in a later press release. That for their 2005 album, X&Y, they were “trying to release the best thing that anybody has ever heard…” Personally, I think the only way Coldplay could release the “best thing that anybody has ever heard” is if they held a press conference and announced their retirement…

That or if the police held a press conference and announced the sudden and unexpected death of all band members in freak cookery and DIY related accidents.

But yea, there’s a lot I look forward to in growing old…

Saving up my entire life… Only to realise that all my friends are dead… And that I have nobody to enjoy it with.

Getting on buses, just to see where they go, because I have fuck all else to do… And also, because all my friends are dead.

Farting and burping in public, because, fuck it, I’m old, I can do whatever I want! I’m above the law! That’s one thing I really can’t stand, I understand, yes, you get older, you lose control sometimes, but it’s the ones who do it, while they’re talking to you.

“Oh hello there, haven’t seen you in a while, how was your *burp* day *finish burp*?”

They never apologise, and it always smells like a slightly off Tesco’s value meal. That is if we could even define a Tesco’s Value Meal as a “meal,” rather than a “salmonella mystery fun pack” for the digestive system. Comes complete with free coffee! Made with the finest ground up bone powder of YOUR DEAD FRIENDS YOU MISERABLE OLD BASTARD!

…Yea… Anyway, while we’re still on the topic of growing old, despite my occasional tangents, There is one thing I really can’t wait for…

Pretending to have Alzheimer’s:

“Son, when, when did we get a parrot?”
“…We don’t own a parrot dad…”
“Of course we do son, we bought him on the Coconut Isle, in Tesco’s, from Chris Martin.”
“Ok dad…”

Now, the great thing about this, is that, the longer you pretend to have it, the harder it becomes to realise quite where the line between pretending to have Alzheimer’s, and actually having Alzheimer’s, is drawn.

Forgive me, Alzheimer’s is of course very serious. Well, until Grand-dad comes downstairs dressed in a pair of old curtains offering everyone something he’s calling “pineapple delight”… Despite the fact he isn’t holding any pineapples.

Published in: on 14/12/2008 at 4:33 am  Leave a Comment  
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Invasions… They just aren’t what they used to be…

So, today, I spent 4 hours bleeding all the radiators in my house… Finally, after all that hassle, I can sit down, open up a packet of red Marlboro red, slip a fine cigarette into my mouth, light up, and relax… Only I can’t, because only 15 fucking minutes later I’ve run clean out of oil, and nobody will fucking deliver ’till next week.

Whatever happened to the good old days? When you invaded a foreign nation and raped and pillaged it for all it’s worth? Where’s my fucking oil? You know, when you told me we were invading Iraq in the name of oil, I was ok with it.

My response was: “Fuck yea!” Yet here we are. You’re in Iraq, and I’m in a cold house…

If you’re going to invade somewhere, do it the fuck right, and take their shit.

Published in: on 10/12/2008 at 12:05 am  Comments (1)  
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