London riots

So, I don’t normally write about current affairs.  This doesn’t mean I don’t have an opinion, it just means sometimes I don’t get the whole picture, but the events in London over the past few nights deserve a mention.

I watched the footage of Croydon as it burned and the young people mindlessly breaking and entering shops and stealing. I listened to the story of the pub landlord who came to work to check his newly refurbed business and ended up shimmying down the drain pipe as looters ransacked his livelihood. I almost cried.

The extreme level of pure mindless violence exhibited by these idiots is almost beyond comprehension.

They are quite literally destroying Britain. Terrorist groups are looking at this going “Hey, we don’t need to attack England! They are attacking themselves.  Wait, fuck it, their police are all occupied.  Let’s get em!”

The rest of the world is either pointing and laughing or pretending not to watch as youths around the country collectively have a toddler tantrum.

Our PM has announced that he WILL come home and tend to the puking child with a funny rash and soaring temperature of a country.

Well done super Dave eh? Come home to offer mother emergency services some backup, help and guidance as she cleans up vomit and shit and knows that once this is over, it’ll be her turn to be ill. But only come home when she’s desperate. Don’t try to help before then.  You continue in blissful ignorance of just how poorly your baby is.

The rest of Britain, most of whom are absolutely disgusted, cry inside, all pride extinguished.

Clever rioters.  In protest of nothing at all (although some will argue that this is a protest against the police or nanny state) you have effectively gone into your house, ripped off your nappy with pride, shat on the floor then excitedly picked it up and smeared it on the TV.

Sadly, we all know you’ll never clear it up.  You won’t even remember doing it after a couple of hours of playing with your toys.  Everyone else will though. We’ll all remember looking on in disbelief, feeling impotent and scared and knowing that from now on, every time we look at it, we’ll always see the streak of shit; the horrible mess you left behind because it seemed an awesome way to creatively express your frustrations.

Nap time anyone?


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