Jeremy Kyle, what a laugh. Nothing better than to come in from college, plonk down in the chair with a cup of tea (often scalding myself in the process) and laughing at some chavs who don't know what a condom is and have 72 kids all by different men. I would love that job, it must be a real release for him to be able to shout at chavs and not risk being beaten up, thats what those burly security guards are for.
Anyway, as you can see my evenings are filled with fun! I do want to apologise, before I get carried away typing, for the substandard dross that filled my last post. It seems that not everyone wants to hear my ranting without being entertained, you shallow people!
NB. A Big pause here, trying to think what to write, I havent even reached 1000 words yet!
My friends car was stolen last week from The Galleries. So everyone should mourn his loss. More to the point however, this highlights the sort of scum that hang around the galleries. Now, I do realise that some of my readers are wondering, what is this galleries? Allow me to explain.
In 1960 some big wig decided to build Washington New Town, and plonk a concrete monster of a shopping centre in the middle! Great! No more horrible car filled dirty high street, just a nice indoor shopping centre. It didn't last long. Now the galleries is filled with people such as; charvs, pensioners and Job Seeker's allowance claimers - often the chav's parents. It is this cocktail of people that sickens me. On their own, or in a good mix of people, I like pensioners. I do! But, with all these other people, the results are vulgar indeed.
It is the charvs that are the problem however, with their counterfeit Nike trainers, addidas jogging bottoms, obnoxious shirts, cheap designer scent (although more than often BO) and the trade mark cap worn on the crown of the head. These people are the problem! Stealing cars, eating macdonalds, urinating in macdonalds, breaking into macdonalds etc.etc.
The solution you ask? National Service.
 I just noticed that last time I said I had written 2000 words and I though, that was short! But now I realise that this little german word next to the number that keeps going up means characters. So 2197 characters later I thankyou for your time, and suggest that you lobby your local MP for national service for chavs.

Russell

Sitting nice and quiet in geography, the teacher rambling on about how global warming isn't true, its quite nice and relaxing. One of my class mates pushes his planner toward me with the figure £1200 on it. "Whats that then?" I ask, and he replies "its my EMA income".
WHAT?! I used to work for 5.75 and hour and it took me 6-8 weeks to earn that sort of cash on top of sixth form. Not that I hate people who get allowances and the like (apart from people who seek jobs for eternity.)
This is another example of New Labour "Equality". Oh yes, equal opportunities for all! My arse, heres a list of things that I haven't got an equal opportunity for;

1) Educational Maintenance Allowance, basically, my parents earn too much for me to get this. + They are married which puts a big red X through my name.

2) University opportunities. I fancied a summer school; the criteria were;
a) Your parents did not attend university
b) Your parents are not in professional jobs
c) You recieve EMA
d) You get good grades at college.

Unfortunately because my mother went to university and is now a teacher both of those are out. Secondly because, as I've already mentioned they earn far too much according to Mr Brown thats C gone. I suppose I'm left with my grades, woo hoo. But what good is that if all the university places are gone!?

Well Mr Brown, not all of us earn £200,000 per year, have all our expenses paid and have a free private residence in London.

Please, if you are on the recieving end of this, I am NOT poking fun at you, in fact, I'm for the government helping people out. But if they're going to help people out with money to make us all EQUAL then its not very EQUAL if it only goes to some people. This is a form of positive discrimination making some more equal than others.

Either Brown gets his act together, or I'm standing for election next year.

Last night as I sat, arms crossed, in my armchair I realised to my horror that my little sister had the TV remote. Unfortunately this means that I was subjected for an hour to America's Next Top Model. It would seem that about 10 Miss World drop outs have been extracted from the already rather unchlorinated gene pool that is America and have been unceremoniously plonked onto my TV screen!
To be honest, these models were better looking than Kate Moss, who in my opinion looks like an Amazonian Rainforest Frog out of David Attenborough's Life in Cold Blood. However, this set me off thinking. How can a group of people as intellectually stumped as those in front of me, have the potential to earn millions of dollars? You see, I keep getting drummed into me; "Oh yes Russell, A is a very good grade, get yourself to university boy and you could earn 30k a year!" yet these utterly talentless beings with the minds of six year olds manage to earn much more than that!
Moving swiftly on from this rant, what I'd really love to talk to you about in my first blog, is blogging! For over a year now I've been pondering whether or not to come to a blogging site and spew my social prejudice across your screen like some sickening concotion of intellectual snobbery and general hate for various groups and individuals. Do not get me wrong! I am not a neo-nazi extremist who seeks to impose my views upon you, I am merely a social reject who has nothing better to do! However, after wasting a year of my social life deciding whether or not to really take myself a step lower on the ladder and quit trying to be "cool" and instead concentrate on impressing an invisible audience I have decided the latter. Here I am.
The thing with blogging is, after just glancing at the home page of blog.co.uk, it would be apparant, that most of the people who seemed to have their blogs featured there are really, really... sad?
I mean, if I wanted to know about your lover who you are cheating with behind your back I'd watch Jeremy Kyle. If I wanted to hear about another long and, surprise suprise, boring day in the office, I'd talk to my dad and IF for some strange reason I do want to read your abstract "philosophical" ideas about how your dreams mean you will be dead by 2032 then I'll just pop along to my local gypsy camp (of which there is one, annoyingly, about a 50 second drive from my front door!).
Anyway, almost 2 and a half thousand words later, I feel, lighter, mentally of course, theres no shifting those spare tyres by typing. Yes, I think I will return to bore you a bit more next week, and perhaps reply to your comments protesting that dream reading is in fact a valid science.