Democracy for Absolutists

(above: don't you hate it when a wild snorlax doubles up as a bouncer and doesn't let you in the pokedisco and calls the coppers because he found a bag of pokeE'z in your pokepocket? I know, this happens all the time.)

Dear overrated people (also known as readership),

First of all, I admit I have been slightly absent these days. I thank the hordes of followers who have expressed deep concern about my lack of public creativity by keeping silent and pretending nothing happens and live on as if this blog didn't exist. Thank you, I totally received your message and now I feel prepared to put it into words. YOU WANT MORE WELSH FILTH, SONS OF AN UNCLE!!!!

Oh, yes! I love you followers and I know that deep into your stone cold heart you want to have a dirty and impregnated one-night stand with me. Since I am a man who has literally sailed the seven seas and in every harbour there was a brothel awaiting for me ashore, I would recommend you to forget the one-night stand and focus on my written work, for my mast looks like it suffers from woodworm, wench (arrrr)!

Today's article, ladies, gentlemen and ambiguous yet human beings after all, deals with the deep and touching subject of laziness. Because being lazy is not one's problem but everyone else's. The human being has been designed to do as little as possible whilst other sorts of beings like the foreign being do all the work for us, the Brits. That is why many extraordinary things such as slavery, absolute monarchies, xenophobia and Frankie Boyle were invented by Britons - to keep foreign beings or working-class beings segregated from human beings and allow the latter not to do anything exhausting (exhausting=more than 18 steps).

However, some human beings back in the day felt sorry about the other beings around their kitchens and 900-acre gardens and regrettably introduced what they called 'democratic principles' to this place. These 'democratic principles' came from Greece. Indeed, the place surrounding Zante and Faliraki. The introduction of these ideas made us human beings be equalled by the rest of beings and, as a consequence, made us work as hard as they used to do.

This unfortunate inconvenience in human being history resulted into the loss of human nature and its predisposition to remain lazy all throughout one's life. I myself, as a half human being, miss lying down on the sofa whilst some foreign beings were fanning me with massive palm tree leaves, reading the Sun -and by 'reading' I mean having a cheeky love affair over Page 3- or stoning to death pupils at Hogwarts on witchcraft charges, etc.

But now... now everything has changed because of 'democracy. You are not allowed to own slaves anymore because ' we are all the same now'. You are not allowed to read the Sun anymore because 'I am superior than a Cockney cab driver'. And, worst of all, you are not allowed to stone to death pupils at Hogwarts on witchcraft charges anymore because 'neither Hogwarts nor its pupils exist and what I was actually doing was to throw faeces at Conservative MPs high on crack whilst shouting 'Maggie, Maggie, Maggie, out, out, out''.

In a nutshell, democracy is bad for human beings as a whole. This is why from now on I am going to campaign against 'democratic ideas' and try reestablish an absolute monarchy, a flawless system where everything works perfectly alright for human beings -unless the Black Death strikes Britain again and messes it up-.

THE WELSH PATIENT says: 'I have a very funny story involving faeces and monarchy: I once threw, AS A JOKE, my poo-poo at Prince Harry because he was ginger. He didn't quite join in the giggles and he punched me in the stomach. End of story.'

Digital type machine (computer) shite (social networks). Today: TWATTER

(above: bennymusso69: @alliedpowers you wankers lol)

New technologies allow us to share our feelings about things around us that are happening in the world because things in the world change like people and that through social networks. BOLLOCKS! In fact, far more than 'bollocks'- anyone who claims this must be banned from live, although it might mean a harsh downturn for yoga centres in Western culture. For instance, we could we talking about Tw(a)tter as a place for sharing feelings.

Luckily, if Tw(a)tter was a porn film character would be that smart businessman whereas Facebook or MySpace would be the rough plumber or pizza deliverer. Nonetheless, and let me go on with the same comparison, despite the fact that the plumber or the pizza deliverer are quite predictable at banging your brains out, the smart businessman is going to do so anyway because, beloved readers, porn film characters end up bumming the other one regardless their suit -at the beginning of the feature-. And this is well applicable to social networks, you just need to think outside the box: once you unravel the outer social network suit, they are going to bum you, as a user, anyway.

Tw(a)tter, starring as the smart businessman, may look wittier and camper than any other social network due to its big deal of high-brow users such as Stephen Fry, John Cleese or many journalists blathering about stuff in less than 140 characters in the form of a clever statement or joke about Down Syndromes in order to impress their readership (or 'followers', as a sort of a religious fanaticism). However, on the other hand, you have potential and very compelling paedophiles and terrorists that through their mischievous statements they force you to fall into their trap.

Indeed, I was once a victim of those. Due to their misleading techniques, under the premise 'Utterly brilliant. A must-see trailer!' and a shrunk url link I can't exactly recall, I first watched '1 man 1 jar'. I can still feel the (his) pain. Fortunately, at this very instance I wasn't the one with greater damage in my cyber-bottom.

Have a good day, you all bunch of infantile pillocks!

THE WELSH PATIENT says: "RT @mostpeoplewhoreadthis the welsh patient is revolting as a whole. <- I know. I'd rather score some dope and rape elderly ppl instead."

"War is stupid and people are stupid" said Boy George

(above: I love this book LOL jk I don't suffer from mental retardation. I prefer the film. Indeed, I hate cinema as a whole.)

Even though I have always stated in my private life that people are scum, some people say that you should have planted a tree, had some offspring and written a book before you die. This made me think two days ago when I started to question myself some major issues regarding my existence in this very planet.

First I considered planting a tree because it seemed to be the easiest from those three tasks to do before I die. However, ten (10) seconds later I remembered some charity bloke (aka, there's some environmental stuff going on in America, give me some quids) telling me somebody else's entire life for a living who afterwards I saw talking quite easy with some other bloke giving out flyers. 'You know what?', I thought, 'The environment shouldn't make these PR blunders. P*** off, Al Gore! I'm not planting that tree.' Why then? Am I planting some tree to promote the saddest yet filthiest clubs in town? No way.

Then, the having some offspring thing came up. Although my addiction to Marmite could turn into impotence in the future, I'm afraid, it is definitely in my 'to do' list Top 5, so let's hope it'll happen sometime and this great gene pool is not lost. Fingers crossed. Still, I'd better not irate even more the environment, for it can pay me back sooner or later with the already mentioned impotence as well as its friends, the saddest yet filthiest clubs in town, since my reluctance to promote those might end up in missing the best gene pools in town, who most certainly attend these, provided I would contribute merely and exclusively to the intellectual bit of this gene pool.

After admitting that not having any legitimate offspring at all will be most certainly a fact in the next decade, I started thinking of writing a book. Not a novel, definitely. I personally can't write about some fellas without getting really fed up with them and incidentally killing them at some point to finish off at once. That's how being given 3 ASBOS is like: one ends up hating human race. It should be some short book that might be really original and can give me big money -of course, I'm not a Medieval monk, I'm a postmodern individual who needs the latest clothing from the 80s but now-. But writing a book, even a short one, is really exhausting and demanding if I really want to keep my even more exhausting and demanding binge drinking student life.

That is why that eventually I decided to leave these tasks but always have the loose idea of doing them at some point in my life, but not now, probably next friday (evening) or in 20 years time. Actually, I'm not doing it for the sake of being lazy and hedonist. I do it for a really good reason: once a man or a woman accomplished those three tasks in life, they simply lay back and think they're done and then they die because of their self-complacency. If I always have it planned but I end up doing nothing, then you don't rest on your laurels and you are always aware of doing them hence living longer. In short, the secret to a longer life, even immortality, resides in planning a lot of interesting things in the long run but not carrying them out ever. There you go.

THE WELSH PATIENT says: 'Aw! So that's the secret to a longer life... Could you believe that I was taking the advice of a doctor? Well, I think I won't need those pills for my double heart bypass anymore. I'm planting a tree now... or maybe next century in the afternoon'

Björk-Al-Qaida connection

(above: visible singer dressed in invisible clothes during a meeting at the office of his invisible manager discussing her next record deal, 130x80cm, b/w, google images (c))

There are only two things that really piss me off: people who hate foreigners and Icelanders. Today I'm going to deal with the latter. What has Iceland given to us? Let's check our mental Wikipedia. Let's see... mhhh. Cod? Gudjohnsen? Björk?

Who needs cod?-- well, I do. A fish and chips without a cod fillet is nothing. But who needs Gudjohnsen?-- Probably his wife and his mother. They need to feel his presence, too (not football, definitely). But who needs Björk? Relatives? Don't think so, her parents were a couple of beatniks. Music? Are you serious? Cinema? She and her worst enemy Dogma-bollocks Lars von Trier should be locked at Universal Studios Theme Park in Orlando (FL) and experience what commercial and therefore proper cinema really is.

Alright. Once set that we don't hate everything that comes from Iceland but Björk and making my first statement just pretentious and an easy plagiarised joke from Austin Powers 3: Goldmember, me, as a top international affairs analyst, 'is' going to link the first thing we fear from Iceland and the first thing Westeners fear: Al-Qaida.

*ALERT: if you have read the news lately you already know what I'm going to talk about. so go and enjoy this lovely weather outside and chase squirrels in the park or even better, poke with a stick any random corpse you might find anywhere if you live in a council house. and if you're single or sommin you should just type in another sort of website rather than a blog, don't you think so?*

The link is easy. Apart from Björk, what else do we hate that would come from Iceland? Volcano ash -read the news, mate!-. What has this ash done to faithless Europe? Collapse the main airports in idem. Who else tried so? Al-Qaida. Therefore, Björk has links with the radical Islamic organisation and she wants to exterminate Western culture, in such case culturally.

We need to take action on this: re-open Guantánamo Bay detention camp as a detention camp for culture terrorists. More pop singers and less underage innocent prisoners is my main message.

Next week's witch hunt: Comrade Cyrus?

THE WELSH PATIENT says: 'Go Clegg for PM! Didn't you want the silly weekly statement?'

Demagogy for Dummies (II)

(above: Omar Pedro Gimenes was once the governor of Idaho. weeks after he had the charge, he was accused of raping young ladies in a blue '76 Chevy van. evidences? just the glasses he wore and that...)

Get ready for another dose of demagogy for dummies -Superfluity? Maybe-. Today, we're dealing with politicians. Indeed, politicians, the ones who use the rhetoric power of language to persuade masses the most.

However, I'm not having a go with them today but with the 98% of the population who are more than qualified to be political commentators on the BBC even though, due to unexplainable reasons, they can't make it to our public broadcaster. Instead, we might find them in pubs, bus stops, council houses or even newsagent's -most likely because the idea of working at a commercial TV station doesn't appeal too much to them-.

These political commentators use, in general, these sentences as follows:

- 'They're all lazybums' (yep, you drinking pints of lager on a couch is reactivating economy, thank you for that!)

- 'That's what our taxes are for, then?' (usually used when one trips over the pavement and falls ridiculously onto the floor, or similar)

- 'I see, first foreigners and then us. (Whispering) They invading us!' (Easy, a friend of mine can provide you a Bangladeshi passport. you might get it half price if you buy a Sri Lankan. But shush, this may be a bit dodgy to say out loud)

Eventually, they end up with a:

- 'If I wuz oop 'ver...' (usually this sentence remains unfinished. when finished, not really often it's followed by a political programme).

Sometimes, recent situations that went through the news commonly generate new sentences. The not long past plane crash involving the Polish government in Russia have created a series of hardcore versions of the previous:

- 'Dunno why Poles still cry plane thing and that. I wish it had happened in my country...' (probably, the worst excuse to open a bottle of champagne)

- 'The Russians! They never learn! WW3!' (utterly real following to this: 'I, (name), can't die without living a World War')

In short, listen to those people, for they own the country's wisdom and they shall rule us all if they claim to do so. But please, one at a time.

THE WELSH PATIENT says: 'I myself know loads of politicians. They're really nice and care about social minorities. Last week I went to a döner-kebab shop for a health and safety check with a friend of mine who is a politician and told them to give a little change -£3,000- to help a poor Pakistani man called Mr. Bribe about to close down his business or so.'

Sí, señor, me be intreegated!

(above: onanismus vulgus or common w***** during their mating season -always-)

*FAKE LATIN ALERT* (oh, whatever, nobody cares. It's a humourous licence. Oh, really? Yes. Is it like this how you justify your ignorance? err... Look there, an UFO!)

Dear readers, I failed to you and the country where I'm living:

I failed to you in various aspects. First, in terms of your daily dose of digital drug I could not fulfil this week. And second, and most importantly, while I was reading the papers a long time ago, I stumbled upon this: Brits are the ugliest, beautifulpeople.com says.

When I first read the article, I couldn't care less about this social network and its opinion based on scientific evidences. Afterwards, I felt quite curious about this website and a week ago I filled up an application to get in.

In order to get in, people from the opposite sex -in my case, women- vote your application positively or negatively according to your face, not for your knowledge in Ancient Greece, Politics or Molecular Biology, for obvious reasons related to the average IQ of the membership. The thing is that I got in. SHAME ON ME!

'Why? Ain't I happy to be in?', says confused my ego.

NO! Just when I thought I was well integrated into the British society apart from some minor details -I'm a tax dodger, I relief myself on the street at broad daylight and I'm not making any effort to learn the language, to mention some- now it comes I'm beautiful... and that's it. Nobody asked me if I like tea or getting pissed until throwing my guts up, just asked me for a photo, which by the way was approximately as follows:

*: Photo might not be that... or might

In short, I'm further from my full integration in this country. A country that, incidentally, couldn't care less about physical aspect. Actually, they don't give a shite as soon as it is in lieu of a proper good time.

THE WELSH PATIENT says: "Of course there are fit people in the islands... look at Posh and Becks. Alright, I'll shut up."

PS (in Catalan): Si algú entén això, pot i vol fer-ho, que li digui al pallasso d'en Jaïr Domínguez que m'enviï una invitació per poder llegir el seu blog: guionistabrillant.blogspot.com