Just ten million miles per hour...

Don’t call me, St Peter, ‘cos I can’t go…

A remarkable bit of grave-dodging by a huge gas cloud. Not that gas clouds have life. Not as far as we know, anyway. But a huge one has done that gravitational catapult thing around the supermassive black hole at the centre of our galaxy.

In black hole terms, supermassive means 7 billion kilometres across, and with a mass equivalent to 4 million of our suns. The gas cloud is going to go off into space at 10,000,000 kmh (1% of the speed of light) the fastest speed (apparently – the Starship Enterprise will beg to differ (I think ‘warp 7’ means 70% of the speed of light, but I’m not a proper Treckie)), and certainly something to stop those tedious Formula One bores droning on about how fast those things go, they’re just cars, that’s all. Here’s the wonder and the majesty of the universe, and you bang on about tyres and gear-changes.

…I owe my soul to the company store…

This austerity thing. Years of individual hardship for the greater good. All well and good if you have a strong belief in the country you happen to be living in.

The Greeks and the Spanish are rioting.

I don’t like it here.

I don’t like the forelock-tugging, back-of-the-hand-rollup-hiding game playing.

I don’t like the royal family. If your queen wants to pop along to a test match, can’t she do it before lick off, rather than delaying the start to suit her (and then she buggers of after a couple of hours?).

I don’t like the huge taxes. 40% before I go anywhere or do anything. Then a minimum of 20% on everything else. That’s 60% of hard-earned evaporated in moat cleaning and Mars-bars. Unless you buy petrol, in which case it’s about 95% and has been punched up another 5p / litre just now.

I don’t like the inequity. Football club? You have to pay for the police, regardless of how crap a job they do. Royal wedding? Thatcher’s funeral? Taxpayer pays.

I don’t owe anything. My Dad fought with and alongside the UK forces in WWII, then was told he should consider a one-way ticket to anywhere as he wasn’t really wanted here. Even as recently as a couple of years ago I’ve had to endure listening to a couple of English retards who only knew him well after his prime saying disrespectful things. I should’ve paid no attention to the circumstances and let them have both barrels.

I don’t like (really don’t like) the church and the rubbish that goes with it, and the strong links with the decisions that rule here. Sunday hours, Bishops in the House of Lords, and I really don’t like 90% of the British psyche. Fresh paint for the queen, no thanks. Class system? Shove it. I’m working to fund living somewhere with no attraction. When’s the next riot?