…..Let Me Fetch My “Hung Like a Field Mouse” T-Shirt

I’m off out.

I’m out on the town and looking for a good time, a few beers (for dutch courage) and then, game face on. Watch out ladies here I come. I have on my smart jeans, I’ve showered, I am sex on legs. Oh I didn’t mention my shirt.. (except in big letters in the title) Yes it’s a sign post.. highlighting my urrm short comings. I figure it’s best to let people know, up front. I got this shirt in a set.

  • “Will touch up your friend when drunk.”
  • “Mood Swings”
  • “No sense of Humour”
  • “Racist”

I think they are great. Unfortunately, not only am I drawing a blank with the ladies but I have been taken the piss out of numerous times and beaten up. I can’t think why..


I’m not crashing I have Windows

OK, so who guessed that was bullshit. Hopefully all of you.

Imagine it though. Going out with a shirt declaring your shortcomings, personality defects or negative elements of your past. Whilst they could be informative, to the other clubbers or people in the pub, a bit like a penicillin allergy pendant, at best it’s likely to make people avoid you, at worst it might make you a target for emotional and physical abuse.

That is what is suggested very frequently to young disabled people. Wear a shirt or display a card proudly embossed with details of their disability. Now in a perfect world, this would be great. It would ensure that folks like me get doors held open, or people coping with high levels of pain will get cut a bit of slack when they shout at the checkout girl in Morrisons.

In reality what happens is that the disabled persons self esteem is damaged, they are actively encouraging disabled people to become the disability, instead of being a person, who happens to be disabled. Additionally the t-shirts are an invite for the bastards of the world to be horrible, because they are not even getting a chance to see a person. They see a label.

Personally I want people to find out more details about my disability the same way they would find out about my hatred of X-Factor and love of World Cinema (no not porn.. well that too) by communicating with me. If communication is not possible via the usual methods I’d still want people to want to find out about me, not read all about it.

You see, final reason why this doesn’t work. (promise) Even people with exactly the same disabilities can be affected by them in vastly different ways. For example I have a friend who’s speech is affected, mine is not. So if we both had a card saying “Cerebral Palsy: My speech is unclear” it would be wrong for one of us. The signs/shirts being offered are mass made remember.

I am not cerebral palsy, it is something that affects my life. Just like taxes, football and masturbation. I don’t wear a shirt telling people I’m a wanker… people have to get to know me (for at least five minutes) first.


For the Love of God / a Sandwich

Ahhh the blessed Friday lunch break, a time to contemplate another thrill packed weekend and perhaps work out a way of killing whats left of the working week. At the very least a chance to get out of the office and grab a bite to eat.

If I’m feeling flush I head to my local non-chain sandwich shop and grab one of their awesome cakes. However as I am trying to economise today I favoured the Sainburys £3 meal deal. Why do I feel the need to put this info on the blog. Well I think you my subscribers need to know I am being well fed.. No.

The lunch time run is carried out the world over. The time away from the office is a little oasis in the day. Why then did someone today feel the need to stop me and offer to pray for me. There I am minding my own business, wandering up the road when:-

“Excuse me, You look like you might need praying for. I’m from the local church, we pray for people in the streets. ”
“No thanks.” I said, quite politely.
“Well I’ll pray for you anyway.”

Yes folks it’s another post about religion. Sit back and relax because it’s about to get messy. As I watched the guy thankfully walk away, still in a slight state of shock, my choice of sandwich dislodged from my mind. I began to slowly simmer, angry at myself for being so polite, angry at him for his unwanted prayer.

Firstly how dare he assume that “I need praying for” thats like walking up to a woman and saying she needs a boob job, (I’ll re-visit the boob theme later) he’s saying I am imperfect in his eyes so I need to prayed for in order to obtain some salvation from a spiritual being who I don’t care about.

Secondly, how dare he impose his religious beliefs onto me. I have spoken before of my opinions and attitude to the beliefs of others. It’s whatever helps you through, if that doesn’t infringe on the lives of others in a detrimental way. The way this prayer was offered was a kin to that of someone trying to sell a timeshare in Tenerife, detrimental to my own personal beliefs, space, and detrimental to the religion itself to be hawked in such an inappropriate setting.

Thirdly it’s just downright embarrassing. It’s the third time in my life that I have been prayed for in a public (not church) space. People wandering by thinking I am partaking in some kind of cultish (maybe I spelt that wrong) procedure, not knowing I am just wanting a sandwich.

In the forth place, I find it extremely rude for him to say that he’d pray for me anyway, despite me saying no. That is the same as me walking up to a girl with great boobs and going:

“Great boobs, can I pleasure myself over them please.”
“No.” says the girl with the rack.
“Well I’m going to anyway.”

It’s inappropriate. I don’t want to think of him “saving me” same as the girl doesn’t want think of me doing the “five knuckle shuffle”

Moral of the story. If you want to be religious and that helps you fine. If you think your religion would help me, fine. If you force your religion upon me or others when we just want a sandwich. Expect to be compared to a wanker.