Monthly speech to improve mental health amongst Britain's children

(above: *introduce subtle analogy between Pinocchio's nose and an e**** p**** here for humorous effect*)

Children of the country where God is still seeking asylum,

It is possible that the ones you call 'elders and betters', unless you live up North, will tell you that telling lies is wrong and you shouldn't tell them. Well, children, do you know what is wrong? THEM AND THEIR CONCEPTIONS ABOUT LIES.

Lying, lady boys (?) and gentleman boys, is not intrinsically bad - it's got its bright side. Not only a bright side but, as a whole, telling lies is a superb tool to be successful in life. This is why I encourage you to tell lies to be successful people in the future. Now, you might think 'why should we pay any attention to this pitiful and alleged foreigner who deserves to be shot in his leg and then the head and be buried at sea instead of our elders and betters?'. Well, if that is what you think, that hurt. But anyway, I'll tell you why, my lads. Because I didn't lie in time.

The reason why I'm just an unemployed blogger is because I can't lie. I'm very bad at deceiving people. Apparently, when I lie my voice wobbles, my eyes blink uncontrollably and I start speaking in dead languages whilst my head is spinning around. Nobody equipped me with the knowledge to be successful in time and I don't want you to commit the same error of starting to throw up blood when you are trying to pose that you did not sleep with that fat cow and this is not my baby, Jeremy, I swear, f*** this DNA test.

For you not to follow the same path I have followed, I will give you some success stories of people who discovered the art of lying in the nick of time and, as a consequence, they are now ostentatious and fortunate lower-middle-class people enjoying their most-deserved holidays at a Greek or Spanish resort exclusive for delightful holiday-makers, namely, the people with the most Union Jacks in their outfits.

Some of the lying techniques applied by those people living the life are as such.

• If employed, blame the one who can't speak English.
• If unemployed, tell the wife he's going to the office and spend the whole day bumbling around town listening to the FM.

I know what you are thinking: 'what if that person eventually learns to speak English?'. Don't worry, make sure that person won't be able to speak English ever. It's easy to do so, just have a sneaky peek at his wallet, nick any cash he may have there and check thoroughly that he was born in the following countries: Spain, Mexico, Scotland or Liverpool. And now you are thinking: 'what does an unemployed liar do in terms of money?'. Easy. One goes to one's brother-in-law and asks for some money to invest in the stock market. Blow this money at the bookies and, when the brother-in-law asks you for his money, draw some fake graphs and tell him: 'things are looking good but they are yet to be better'.

Believe me, lady boys and gentleman boys, you will be better off if you follow this advice of mine. YOU'LL BE THE (middle-class) KINGS AND QUEENS OF MAGALUF AND SALOU.

THE WELSH PATIENT says: 'I'm glad I lie most of the time. Last summer, I convinced my wife to spent the holidays in Zante by telling her that we were going to have a romantic one. I lied. I exchanged her for two shots of flaming Sambuca the second night. It paid off. What a night!'

Look how much I care about the world (you miserable idiot!)

(above: 'have you got a minute, sir? have you ever heard of methadone sans fronitières? well, basically it is a charity that helps less fortunate people around the world to get over their jones for crack by providing them large supplies of such. would you be interested in being a member? there's the standard membership, which is £6 a month, and the premium one, which is a simple one-off payment consisting of 3 jabs with this hepatitis-y knife into your stomach and anything you have in the wallet')

If you are one of the chosen people who read this blog in an hourly basis - although you know that checking every hour this blog without actually having intimate contact with me is not enough to fulfil anyone's naughtiest desires -, you must already know that in this blog we like to at mainstream baddies, i.e.: baboons, sexually attractive underage girls and animals who don't give a shit. This week though, we are going underground and we will have a go at one of the best-known goodies: people involved in charities mucking about on the high streets across Britain.

The people we are going to refer here are fairly easy to recognise: clipboard, tracksuit top/hoodie with the logo of the charity they belong, a more than fake smile and the stare of a starving lioness looking for a lonely and miserable prey. And they usually prey on me for such condition in addition to my evident lack of rudeness, namely, the ability to tell them to f*** off.

In terms of their aims and goals, theirs are clear-cut and consequent. Their first aim is to you give them your bank account details without asking many questions - because they usually set off their homes with a rather definite and limited script. If unsuccessful, their second aim takes place, which is to make you feel a bad person along with your default loneliness and misery.

As you lot know, this blog also has a clear commitment to be a public service and I am not content only describing this appalling situation. I also want to provide you with some solutions to make you feel less guilty about not cooperating with the monkeys being abused everyday or children living in rainforests, or something like this as well as to embarrass the charity predator in the meantime. To start off, I am going to enumerate the weak spots of that folk.

In a nutshell, the common European charity embarrassator has several weak spots due to its inadequacy to the world today as functioning members of society. However, there are some weak spots that will allow you not to give a penny and severely damage its huge ego (note: its ego is huge for various reasons ranging from the feeling of righteousness in their actions to the feeling of being stoned at work).

Due to the lack of time and motivation, I will only go through the most noticeable weak spot. Since these people love being nice to people, animals and ecosystems they have never seen live to satisfy their thirsty egos, they admire people like them (obviously). This means that they will take offence if given upon characters such as U2 Bono and Sir Bob Geldof. Do not panic if you don't get my idea, I know it might be excessively abstract for the majority of my (overrated) readership. Here is an example to make things clear:

CHARITY PREDATOR: Hi, have you ever heard of Fronds of the Earth? We're basically a charity that helps fronds grow peacefully in Brazilian favelas...

YOU: Yes... but I do f****** like mondays, pr*ck!

CP: *Little cry*

YOU: (Optional) *Smash a little smoke bomb to the floor and flee tiptoed in an evil laughter*

Is it clearer now? I supposed so. Nevertheless, this technique has not been proven and the effects can be even harsher than described. A man in Sao Paulo is believed to have done something similar to a charity bloke who was raising money to help poor bankers in Britain and, instead of crying, his face melted like a gremlin exposed to sulfuric acid - or like an 8-year-old girl exposed to sulfuric acid.

THE WELSH PATIENT says: "I once worked for a charity. It was called Sandwiches Without Borders. Our main aim was to raise money for better equipment to beat up disobedient wives in less-favourable areas in the country who won't make a sandwich to her husband. At some point, former member Germaine Greer was given the sack for putting forward some methods seen as too harsh for women"