National Schadenfreude Week

With the financial crisis etc it’s possible that some of our number are going to start feeling a bit sorry for themselves one way or another. I don’t wish unemployment on anybody, including myself, but one thing truly to be guarded against is self-pity. Therefore I hereby issue a caution. When one is feeling low it’s always better to think about those who have it worse than you. So, I’ve compiled a list. If you feel the cancer of self-pity start to bite, just think that the members of these organisations - pretty much taken at random, really - are even further gone:

Australian Pride

Australians may look cheerful and confident but underneath they are so sorry for themselves. How would you like it if people thought Dame Edna Everage was a real person, that all your indigenous animals looked really stupid, and they kept reminding you about “Botham’s Ashes”, the 2003 Rugby World Cup, etc. Well, Australians have had enough!! From now on they’ll be talking even louder in West London pubs and calling you a pooftah even before their crushed your fingers in a pointlessly aggressive handshake.

Mope

Like Scope, the charity that used to be called The Spastics Society, Mope used to be called The Drastics Society. Their response to their drastic plight is to take drastic measures – namely, sitting alone in their bedrooms eating Pot Noodles. And they demand the right to be left there undisturbed, with only a few Leonard Cohen* records and a tub of Boots No. 7 extra-black eyeliner for company.

* Yessss, once again Gadjo Dilo shows himself to be somewhat out of touch with what the Young People are listening to. But you get the idea.

Former Hedge Fund Managers for Equal Pay

It’s just not fair. People who’ve had well paid jobs and are now reduced in their circumstances really need support.

Dark Night of the Soul #1

What I’m about to say may disturb readers of a sensitive disposition, and they are advised instead to look at pictures of fluffy kittens until normal service is resumed.

I can feel it creeping over me again: like a cancer, but without the sympathy. Maybe some of you know the feeling (do you?): why am I here; why have I moved away from my friends, my family, my culture, people who listen to me, the food that I like, {your own personal choice here}, and proper comedy. There seem to be three well-trodden paths which can be taken from this juncture:

(1) Shout at the person you’ve given everything up for (not fair as it’s not really their fault)
(2) Go back home (possible, but you know that “home” is just as crap in its own special way)
(3) Get drunk (yes, the one continuing advantage about being abroad is that the beer is cheaper)

However, I’ve just thought of an entirely new solution (4): destroy things!!!! I was in my mid-teens when punk started in the UK – for which I’ve always been assiduously grateful - but I’m afraid I failed to take full advantage of the possibilities thereof. However, as they say, “it’s never too late”. I have fantasies about smashing up the kitchen, the chairs, the telly - anything that’s immediately to hand, frankly - but so far I’ve only succeeded in punching wooden fences and lampposts. Of course, this isn’t the “me” that people want to see, but, well, as they also tell me, “you shouldn’t bottle your feelings up!!” Now, I’m of the type for whom scenario (3) actually prevents rather than precipitates scenario (4), so I’ve got a large plastic keg of beer at my elbow right now so I can finish writing this before I send the computer south - if you don’t hear from me again you know the beer ran out :-) Cheerio!!