Stig Of The Dump: “Cliche’s ARE cliche’s for a reason”

It happened again, i had a thought, a thought i didn’t fire off to twitter quickly enough, so it decided to hound my every conscious second like a dripping tap… a big noisy shit tap, dripping shit into my head for hours, so i put it on paper, except its not paper because we seem to live in the future where everything magically exists on your laptop’s/pc’s little window into the ether, until one day when the computers fight back & were all totally screwed. Anyway its here, making room in my head for more stupid fucking thoughts.

“If you love something, let it go, if it comes back its yours, if it doesn’t it never was”. Don’t be so stupid, why did my ex scream at me like a T.V Boot Camp Sgt Major every time I took more then a nanosecond to get through the front door? Because she was fully aware that her cats would have run free quicker than Fritzl’s daughter at her first sniff of freedom.

“It’s better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all”. What a load of trite bollocks, next time you’re lying around in your pants & wailing while snot bubbles pop out of your nose like a child that’s dropped its ice cream because you understand EXACTLY what Will Smith is going through in Hitch. Or next time you’re uncontrollably sobbing to The Streets “Dry Your Eyes Mate” like a fat girl trying to catch her breath, all because another relationship failed & you don’t know why the same problems keep on arising, every….single…. time…. Why didn’t he/she love you enough to work it out? Why couldn’t you just accept each other for who you are? Why? They said it was them and not you but it MUST be you?? Just as you’re obsessing about constantly having your heart broken until, eventually, if you’re lucky enough to have a decent innings, when your eyes turn milky and your skin sags like wet cling film, you die alone. Then try and tell me that the pain slowly eating away at your soul like a super-bug is way better than a life of hollow meaningless copulation with an endless string of equally desperate skanks who are too busy “living life” to settle down. We’ll see how you react when your friends drop that gem on you.

“What you don’t know can’t hurt you” OK, next time you find a lump and you will find a lump as when you’re waving goodbye to your 20’s they inevitably appear intermittently like deafening reminders of your mortality, so when you find a lump, which after months of procrastinating through fear you finally get checked out.  Well just before you get the test results why not try putting your fingers in your ears and shouting “I cant hear you, LAH lah Lah lah, i cant hear you”. You might get lucky, the tests might have come back negative, then you can carry on convinced that your alive due to your blissful ignorance, as happy as a tape worm in John McCririck’s lower intestine. If on the other hand its positive, you’re fine as you wont know anyway, so you’ll have saved yourself months of chemo, a bald head & definitely wont die at all.

“What Doesn’t Kill You Only Makes You Stronger” Except of course Osteoporosis or Muscular Dystrophy?

“Knowledge Is Power” OK, lets fight, you bring a paper back & i’ll wear steal toe’s & brass knuckles, lets see how far you get with your P-Q edition of Encyclopedia Britannica, maybe you can speed read about Qwan Ki Do while i break your face.

“A Bad Workmen Blames His Tools”. Really, well only a complete tit sits on the sidelines & offers their unwanted opinion instead of getting involved and helping out, plus SOMETIMES, you judgmental prick, a workmen does have to make do with shit tools.

“Money Can’t Buy You Happiness”. No, you smarmy twat, you’re right but only because Happiness is objective, if they could measure and manufacture happiness on a factory work line, I guarantee it would be the biggest selling product since Cillit fucking Bang, even Barry Scott would kick his own mother in the neck to stock up on it come sale day. Until then, money CAN buy you alcohol, drugs & loads of stuff, all of which make us grin from ear to ear like the avaricious, materialistic plague of greed we are, at least until the hollowness returns by which point you’ve earned more money.

In case you hadn’t worked it out, I hate clichés, mainly as they’re only ever uttered by the type of tabletop magazine philosophising tossers who have nothing of interest to say, the kind of people who think buying drugs is as easy as buying a newspaper, “they’re coming over here and stealing our jobs” & that paedophiles are EVERYWHERE.

Follow Stig on Twitter @Stigofthedumpuk