They're wearing make-up: kill, kill!

How depressing is this story in the news of a couple of scrotes who kicked and stamped a young lass to death because she was a goth? I simply can't begin to fathom the thought process and sheer mindlessness of 'people' who see someone who is different as such a threat that they need to physically assault them at the earliest opportunity.

Violence against minorities or groups who are deemed 'different' is widespread; it doesn't need further airing here. That said, I've never come across such a lame excuse to attack someone before. The story goes that a bunch of scum had spent the evening getting shitfaced and having relations with their scumettes when a goth couple crossed the park they were in. They immediately set about the lad of the couple who couldn't protect himself or his girlfriend. I'm not sure whether she stepped in or if they got bored of the chap but the eventually turned on her and beat her to death. Disgusting to the point of helplessness.

Friends and family got the verdict they wanted (life for them both) but that's scant comfort for the loss of the life, especially someone who seemed perfectly pleasant and was obviously unable to defend herself against this kind of assault. Personally I hope the other lags get wind of what these disgraceful beings did and dish out a bit of big house justice. Maybe then they'll know what it feels like to be picked on for being different. Rot in hell, scumbags.

Who you gonna call? A psychiatrist, presumably

You know me; I'm never one to offer opinions on stuff, be they controversial or run of the mill. I don't like to get involved in arguments, and I firmly believe that everybody else's opinions are as valid and correct as mine. I'm just that nice.

Alternatively, I could stop lying and make another one of my sweeping generalisations based purely on my (usually limited) experience of the subject in question. So here goes...

There's no such thing as ghosts.

Surely I'm on safe ground here? I've never seen a ghost, and I don't know anyone who as (or at least who has admitted to it), but I heard one of the cleaners at work telling someone that they hadn't seen this particular family member in ectoplasmic form for a few weeks. You have no idea how much strength of character it took not to turn round and say "Oh for fuck's sake, grow up will you". But I did.

The thing is, if I said "Go on then clever clogs, provide evidence of their existence" they'd be stumped. In today's world of 24-hour news and omnipresent Internet information, any plausible viewings would be all of the world by lunchtime. But they're not. Inevitably the spook-botherer would counter with "Prove that they don't existthen". In which case I'd shrug and put my arms out, as if to "Look around you, assface - you see any sheets with holes for eyes?"

My opinions on the afterlife and spiritualism are at best contradictory, mainly because my scientifically-driven mind fight for supremacy over my interest in all things from leftfield (not the band). I'm pretty sure that this any decent evidence to prove ghosts exist would throw my whole belief system into disarray, but the simple fact that after all these years not a single respectable recorded case of bumps in the night has been seen, I'm pretty secure in my convictions.

Now clairvoyants, don't even get me started on them...

Big cock day

People who know me will also know that I subscribe to the notion of the big cock day. That is, a day when you feel sexually irresistable to the opposite sex and feel that you're being checked out wherever you go.

Now let's get one thing straight. I don't profess to be a stud (our lass would go up the wall for starters) but I'm not exactly David Mellor, so there's bound to be some people out there not completely physically repulsed by me. Therefore, I don't feel bad when I get the impression that the 48-year-old battleaxe at Tescos petrol station is thinking "If I were 25 years younger"

I'm not arrogant. I'm confident, mainly because I'm secure in my own skin and have got what I want from life, but I would never profess to be some kind of player who's beating them off with a stick. It's just sometimes I feel absolutely the dog's bollocks, sex-wise.

The opposite is of course true. Sometimes everywhere you look the women are fit. It happened today which reminded me to write this blog. On another day we'd be talking swamp donkey territory, but sometimes, be it madness, celibacy or plain old cataracts, the opposite gender look like a collective of pieces of ass.

Far be it from me to get all Desmond Morris on your ass, but I'd say that's human nature. Personally I don't care whether you agree with me or not, cos I'm one of the beautiful people. Fall silent at my handsome feet.