Clucking Like A Bastard

Everywhere we go we are inundated with the obnoxious trappings of unconsciousness. Isn’t that true, though? We might like to pretend that matters are otherwise but that’s just some kind of sick joke really, isn’t it? That pretence of ours that we not being inundated with the obnoxious effluence of unconsciousness on all sides only makes matters worse, wouldn’t you agree? I mean, it’s like lying about a lie. It’s like lying about a lie when everyone knows full well that you’re lying and you know damn well that they know. You know that they know and yet you keep on with the lie – you keep on embellishing it, you keep on making it bigger and bigger. That’s just plain stupid, right? That’s obnoxiously stupid and there’s no other way of putting it – let’s not mince words here! And that’s exactly what we’re like when we pretend – as we do pretend – that we are not being swamped on all sides by the offensive waste products of unconsciousness. I know we all like to be unconscious. I get that, I can appreciate that! Of course we do, of course we do. We love it! We can’t get enough of it. We bloody love being unconscious and that’s a fact. It’s a ‘fact of life’, as they say. If there was to be a little booklet entitled ‘The Facts of Life’ then that would have to be the Number One Fact – that we love being unconscious! Of course it would – they could hardly be any argument about that, could there? It’s the ultimate love story really isn’t it? It’s the great romance – how sweet is the embrace of unconsciousness. So sweet, so sweet, so very very sweet. Like a junkie loves his spoon. Like a junky loves his spoon. Or rather the stuff in it, I should say. The precious stuff in it that you’ve got to get into you as quickly as you can. ‘Has anyone seen my Daniel?’, you ask. Has anyone seen my Daniel – where the bloody hell is it? Where the bloody hell has it got to? You’re getting angry now of course because you can’t find it. You’re getting a bit ratty because you need it. You’re getting a bit shirty. You’re waiting for the man. You’re waiting for the man because the only thing you know because the only thing you know. And the next thing is that you’re clucking like a bastard! We’ve all been there, right? We have all been there. You’re clucking like a right bastard and that’s not nice as we all know. That’s not nice. And there’s no point in being all prim and proper about it either and saying ‘Oh but I don’t use skag!’ I am way too tired to be listening to that shit, I really am. I’m way too tired to be listening to that old ‘I am not a skaghead’ bullshit….






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