Filed in Gather Writing Essential by on August 10, 2011 0 Comments


2011 riots

I feel so sorry for the morons, the lumps of living human vomit, who think that rioting, mayhem and looting are proper ways of expressing the fact they feel ill-done by in a world where wealth is in short supply, people are really starving, dying of thirst and illness and suffering more than anyone in this country has the right to say they’re suffering. Because the darling little morons are so under-occupied and neglected that you’ve plain got to feel really sorry for them – NOT!

When I was a lad I had enough to occupy me, probably sometimes a surfeit of things to do. True, the only youth organisations were of the religious sort that wanted to brand us with their faith and fears of eternal punishment, so if we wanted organised fun we had to (shock of all shocks) create it for ourselves. And not by inflicting the unpleasant side of our natures on the world (if we had one, that is.)

There were seasons back then, in part generated by the changing natural seasons. Because autumn (fall) was a time when horse-chestnuts fell out of horse-chestnut trees there was the conker season. Conkers were drilled and held on string and we bashed each other’s in games that lasted throughout playtime at school, and dinner time, and well into the evening. In the summer we played with fag cards, the illustrated small cards that came from packets of cigarettes, and there were many different games we played with them, mostly of a gambling nature when one boy might suffer losses whilst another celebrate unexpected riches. The same with marbles, because there was that season, too, and the day rarely ended with you having the same collection of marbles that you started it with! And as the years passed the seasons came and went. They were predictable. They were glorious. They were entertaining. They cost nothing (save coppers for a few clay marbles), were never organised by anyone remotely adult and part of the growing-up world of childhood.

And we never rioted. We never looted. We never created mayhem, and you know what?

We were, in every possible way, as human beings, as young people and even as children vastly superior to the toe-rags and morons who think it’s clever to scare the shit out of their elders in waves of misbehaviour that make chimpanzees look intelligent in this wonderful year of 2011. We were brighter, happier, livelier, yet our world was, in places, a bomb-pocked ruin of a place.

When the present waves of idiocy have been reduced to a kind of simmering threat that it might all happen again I’d like to see some kind of formal arrangement for making the lives of the perpetrators both painful and nasty. Back in the good old days there was a thing called corporal punishment and they say it hurt, though I never received a dose of it. But if there is proof positive that Joe Blogs has caused misery and pain to others like they delight in doing, then besides years of incarceration without a telly or a games machine he should be thrashed. And if they dared suggest the mindless behaviour is all because they’ve got nothing to do I’d like to point out that my favourite haunt, when I was a boy, was the library. Go there, I’d say, and pick up a book.

Get addicted to storyland, like I was. Learn to really live and stop being human vomit!

© Peter Rogerson 10.08.11


About the Author ()

I am a 68 year old male happily married to his lovely wife Dorothy. We enjoy the simpler things in life together. I also gain a great deal of inner peace by expressing my sometimes wacky thoughts as blogs. I also enjoy writing poetry, sometimes concernin

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