Fair call. You might have expected that this, the most obvious Truth exploration, should have come sooner. Give me a break man, I was building to it. So here we go: People. People can be pleasant; people can be unpleasant. People can be upstanding; people can be delinquents. People can be gentlemen; people can be reprobates. Youthful people in particular, have a propensity to revert to the dark ages and mimic their forefathers, Neanderthal man. Elderly folk have often become too entrenched in their way of life from 50 years ago, to make any significant changes from then to now. Children have inadequate cognitive formation to be judged either way; they will generally act as example dictates.

So what about kids? Loveable, delightful, adorable, seemingly harmless bundles of joy they are… Or are they? Objectively, children have the potential be the nastiest of all three. You see, they have neither the life experience or presence of mind to make them aware that what they do and what they say, can have seriously detrimental effects on another child’s developing persona – parental guidance notwithstanding. For example, the Year 5 class bully has no idea the effect his actions will take, when one lunchtime he spots that ‘stupid fat kid’ down on the back field, feverishly scooping up and wolfing down handfuls of mud, in a futile endeavour to quell his hunger pains before commencement of afternoon classes; forgetting as young bullies do, that he himself had beaten up this fat kid and taken his lunch money at morning interval, resulting in the insatiable appetite for just about anything palatable. This Year 5 bully has no concept of the consequences his actions will generate as he storms out onto the field, as he silently approaches the fat kid from the rear then delivers a powerful kick, sending him sprawling face first into his muddy banquet… So does this mean the young bully is destined for a life of sadism, or is he just too young to understand that his victim’s onset of tears, thankfully disguised by a covering of mud, will in fact, remain in memory until the day he dies?

Years later, snotty-nosed children have grown into acne-faced teenagers. Intermingle both genders and what do we have? Primitive Society, that’s what. You see, from adolescence to mid 20s, males are masters at allowing their every thought, their every movement to be dictated by hormones – namely, testosterone. The quest for Alpha-male is rekindled as the strongest, most manly man is sought; territorial pissings resume as lust becomes palpable and women are measured simply as objects on which to lay claim. The transition from Neanderthal to Primate man is a relatively quick one. These adolescent males will now turn on each other as readily as they would have shaken hands and embraced two minutes ago. Obviously, the tall, muscular, confident 18-year-old cannot tolerate the sight of the girl he’s been eyeing, showing affection to his shorter, fatter, diffident classmate; so what does he do? He enters the conversation making some scathing remark about this fat kid’s stutter and ‘how he’s surprised this kid can even stuff a cream doughnut in his mouth, he’s shaking that much’.  Adolescents tend to cut each other down not for personal satisfaction, but in order to gain rank and most importantly, desirability – reaching that higher social echelon puts them in a good position to take their pick of the flock. Because of course, the pretty and compassionate girl who was hitherto showing this fat kid some tenderness, cannot manage to hide her giggle at the tough kid’s unintelligent and uninspired remark.

Decades later, from acne-faced teens to acne-scarred young adults, then rough-faced and hard-nosed middle-agers, come, elderly folk. Sometimes nosy, invariably gossipy, generally cantankerous, elderly folk. What more can be said? On account of having too little to occupy themselves, they tend to make their lives more about other peoples lives, such as condemning the neighbourhood bully for his ill-treatment of that poor little fat kid who lives down the road; they have opinions on everybody, such as the belief that one day that fat kid will grow up to be something great, while that insolent tough-guy who takes his pleasure in preying on others, will never amount to much of anything – will always live in a rented house with his similarly drifting, alcoholic buddies – and though he might get away with philandering for a while, he’ll never have a meaningful relationship and so will never truly be happy; they are easily infuriated but still, for the most part at least, maintain a level of quiet dignity synonymous with retirement.

People are odd and interesting characters about whom I could write many pages describing various attributes, but for now, for your sanity, I shall conclude. The truth is, people operate with a latent, perhaps sub-conscious fear of the unknown. In this case, the unknown is being unsure of anybody who might appear more proficient than they. For example, if one undertakes a task, then sees another performing the same task, but better, they will naturally feel emasculated; they will therefore, maybe unknowingly, attempt to cut down that person in a different area, in another way. Trouble comprehending? Permit me to simplify. Ask yourself, why do the obtuse mock the intelligent? Why do the lazy mock the athletic? Why do the idle mock the prolific? Is it resentment..? Is it jealousy..? Or is it a sub-conscious fear that they are being outshone? You see, people possess an innate desire to be the best. This desire manifests more strongly in some than others, sure, but it’s always present. Believe me. We, as people, don’t take kindly to being outshone. Especially siblings. It might sound ridiculous – and it probably is – but it’s human nature.

It’s the nature of people.

Users of the following poem

Have pronounced it quite ideal,

For you see it fits right on your phone

As a salve perhaps for wounds to heal.

Or this little piece of rhyme

Could provide the perfect birthday gift,

When you are strapped of all but a dime

Simply pick up your phone and send her this.

Take from this

Your day of birth,

All the happiness

That you deserve.

Joining the world

Many years ago,

A gorgeous pearl

Watch as you grow.

A paragon among ladies

You set a blistering pace,

A high standard maybe

But necessary to the race.

So where to from here

A lesser person may ask,

The best in life is near

You might just remark.

With ?? years down

Still a lot more to come,

Like a sleuthing clown

You always find the fun.

Nights that go on all day

Days that go on all night,

In light of hedonistic ways

Still a way to go til the light.

Too much booze

Far too many smokes,

But how can one lose 

Under an invincibility cloak.

Regarding the years

Told ?? is where it stops,

With only the one to spare

Best sprint until you drop.

There’ll always be another

Ready to make the catch,

Sister to a team of brothers

You have earned all of that.

You have earned the world

And all that is found within,

Go forth now glorious pearl

Make it take it – go all in.

Nice one ??????, happy birthday.

Love, ??????? 

Now, as the author, I realise that some of the above verses might not accurately pertain to, or represent the subject of your affection; in which case, they will need to be omitted or modified. That does not bother me – the chick for whom I originally penned it was a pack-a-day smoker and a veritable booze hound. (She’s now married and with kids on the way.) Otherwise, the afore written work, depending on her name length, should equal 1000 characters. Good luck with that.

I will not for an instant claim that my own driving habits are totally beyond reproach, and nor will I resort to throwing around names or nationalities of those parties I feel to be most endangering our roads; I would however, like to lay down a few facts of which you, as readers, are most likely fully aware but which you, as road users, are most likely to overlook.

Picture this: it’s a warm summers day – let’s make it Friday – end of the week, work is over, rush hour has commenced and all you want to do, is get home and crack a beer. Or two. Cars in front of you, cars behind you; in fact, as far as you can see in both directions, it’s practically solid vehicles, all idling in unison. Then the line moves. You speed up for a few hundred metres; then shortly after, slow down again. This happens a number times, as it always does, bumper to bumper traffic; most people resigned to sitting and waiting. Then finally, you’re out of the city where the limit is 100kph. Foot down, you go for it. Of course, the preceding vehicle doesn’t share your enthusiasm. It’s funny, he seldom does. Before you know it you’re hard on the brakes, back down to around 80kph. Kilometre after kilometre, 80kph. It’s frustrating. You never can understand it. The speed limit is 100kph, yet for some reason, people are only doing 80. Then you spy it. There’s a gap in oncoming traffic. If you really push it you should just be able to make it. Foot to the floor you pull out to overtake… The adrenalin rises; here’s where the fun begins.

In your subconscious at least, you know full well there will be a solid line of traffic heading out of the city that afternoon, just like you; all on their way home from work. There will be sporadic breaks every so often, sure, but other than that, the homeward bound traffic is a veritable python of sun-baked steel.

Nevertheless, here you are. Over in the opposite lane powering along that snake’s mighty backbone in an attempt to jump four or five vertebra. You make it. Nice one. You are now around 100 metres better off than you were. That particular stretch of the journey takes approximately half an hour at 100kph; so now, given that you’ve managed to leap forward 100 metres, you have shortened the trip by at least two seconds. Good work. Nice one. But you’re not content with that, are you? Oh no. Another break in oncoming traffic; another leap. This time it was six cars. My God man, you made up almost 200 metres that time. That’s almost five seconds. Oh, but wait, the snake is slowing for a township. It’s not your township though, so just about at the end of the speed reduction, you gun it again. This time you jump around 500 metres and what’s more, you’re now in the clear – travelling at 110kph. Well done. Gosh, you sure proved me wrong. But wait, oh no, around the next bend – which of course you take at 100kph – the traffic’s all backed up again. This time you’re really hard on the anchors. Now you’re down to 60. This is unbelievable. Your town is on the horizon, you can practically taste that cool beer, but you’re creeping home at a meagre 60kph with no opportunity to pass. Five minutes of this is about all you can stand. You feel as though you’re going insane. You’ve become so agitated that you’ve smoked three cigarettes in that time then just to pour iodine in that gaping wound of yours, you glance up to your rear view mirror, to see the line of cars that you used every modicum of your motoring expertise to overtake, has now caught up and you can actually make out the smiling driver of that car you passed when first leaving the city. How the hell did that happen? You turn the mirror to gaze upon your own twisted reflection; then wrench it back around to the driver of the trailing vehicle. How much do you want to punch him in his smug little face right now?

Analytically, as well as reaching near heart attack levels of anxiety and possibly ruining Friday afternoon beer o’clock, during that drive home, you’ve used perhaps three times the fuel as that complacent motorist, so content was he just to sit back and wait; knowing, understanding, that providing he didn’t stop – thereby giving up his vertebra in the inexorable python – all of the cars comprising that line of traffic would indeed arrive home, safely, and within just a few minutes of each other.

I am a cyclist. My training therefore, comprises, cycling. Dumbbell curls? Marathon training? Stomach crunches? Leg weights? No. Anything else would be a waste of time. I’m a cyclist. I train for my sport by cycling. So why, when a professional player of another sport embarks on a training regime, do they work the physiological gamut?

For example: take a professional cricketer. Half of their training is spent in the nets or on the field, bowling, batting, catching, throwing, running; ultimately, practising cricket. The other half of their training is spent in the gymnasium. Why? Why does a cricketer need to build muscles that simply, he will not use in the game of cricket? In fact, the only thing this will achieve, is to make the rest of his muscles more prone to injury. You see, in order to remain supple and optimally functional, muscles require a mineral called magnesium. When a cricket player spends time building up an impressive, but largely pointless physique, his magnesium requirement is increased; thus on account of these unneeded muscles, the muscles that he does use during a cricket match will be that much more likely to strain. Same goes for any sport; why build unnecessary muscle tone? Admittedly, in the game of rugby union or rugby league, it’s more about bulk; but the fact remains, build excessive bulk and the majority of that bulk, is nothing but burdensome. Why do you think sporting injuries have increased so much over the years? Is it that physical games have become that much more demanding? Perhaps, on some level, yes. Or is it that players are so focused on growing their physiques that their bodies can no longer cope with all that unneeded muscle tone?

A typical marathon runner is practically emaciated, yet their legs possess more strength than that of most other sportspeople; these people run farther than any other sportsperson and suffer few ill consequences. Conversely, a rugby league player is one of the strongest, most fit looking sportspeople there are; they run a few intermittent kilometres during the course a game and they’ll be lucky if they can walk the next day. I know, it was a poor example; comparing contact with non-contact sports is unfair, but the point is that the marathon runner has only the strength he requires for his sport and nothing more, while the rugby league player carries with him around 40kgs of superfluous bulk. Professional cyclists have massive legs, but how much time do you think they spend with dumbbells in their hands? Less than bugger all, that’s how much.

My conclusion, which, if I’m not careful, will be lost, is that, although I understand the desire for contact sportsmen to propagate big, buff, don’t-mess-with-me-or-I’ll-smash-ya physiques; it can’t work both ways. One cannot expect to build this muscle tone in the gym, then not use it in the game, and still finish feeling satisfactorily lissome. It doesn’t work like that. So to all you non-contact sportspeople out there, if you’re not going to use the muscle in your chosen profession, for God’s sake, don’t bother building it during training.

I wonder how many people out there have ever seen bacteria, or better yet, seen a single bacterium. Interesting. Admittedly, the majority of us have never witnessed these microscopic joy-germs at work, yet thanks to what we see on health or cleanliness orientated television shows, sensationalised warnings of global pandemics and moreover, what our parents endeavour to instil in us – so called facts based primarily on what their parents instilled in them, probably resulting from preaching parents yet another generation above them, we are taught to go about our lives with a mortal fear of falling victim to the almighty bacterium.

Babies live on the ground. This is fact. We have all seen this. A baby’s mother doesn’t seem perturbed by the fact that the, once chocolate covered, now plain white and decidedly sodden biscuit on which that baby chews, has fallen out of the aforementioned’s mouth a number of times and, as onlookers see the morsel being grasped in those filthy little hands and smeared around to eventually find its way inside the cake-hole, is now covered in pet hair, dust and other miscellaneous debris that once made its home on that supposedly clean family floor. The mother isn’t worried. Other guests think its cute, even funny. More comical still, is the way that the family dog then approaches, takes half the biscuit in its mouth and playfully wrestles the baby for control, before someone steps up to give assistance, allowing the human to prevail over the canine; then what’s left of that biscuit, dog slobber and all, disappears again betwixt the baby’s eager lips. Oh, mercy, what a rollicking good time.

Adults, generally, live one to two metres above the ground. Also fact. If we were spotted rolling around on the floor holding in our unwashed hands some sort of biscuit treat, pushing then withdrawing it from our mouths; dropping it then recapturing; picking it up then sticking it along with both hands in our mouths; sharing the treat with the dog; touching its mouth then stuffing our fingers back in our own… Sure, we would shunned by all who knew us for acting like an idiot – but that’s not the point. Anybody who bore witness to such a display from anybody but an infant, would no doubt make comment something along the lines of, ‘Oh, God, yuck, that is disgusting. Think of all the germs, oh, look, it’s all dirty, oh, yuck, oh, they’re gonna get sick for sure – that is like, just, disgusting!’

Come on. Be realistic. It’s the ground. Good ol’ terra firma. We take our food from it. We take our water from it. We walk upon it. We play upon it. We live upon it. Granted, it can’t be good to eat all of our meals directly from it, but this is why human beings have immune systems; this great part of our biological constitution does its best to protect us from the World’s burgeoning array of health concerns. The immune system beats down nefarious toxins, pernicious impurities and in general, anything that our liver would otherwise deem unfit for human process but on this occasion has allowed to slip through. ‘That’s right,’ you might say, ‘and that’s why we allow our babies to be exposed to it, it helps build immunity.’ Yes, for the most part, I agree, that does make sense. So tell me, when do we stop letting our children eat germs and say, ‘Right, that’s enough immunity building for you, now it’s time to start acting like a grown up’? My ultimate question therefore, is, why can’t we keep on being unhygienic, thereby continuing to build immunity towards these inimical agents? When does ‘immunity building’ become ‘disgusting behaviour’? For example, if your food skids from your plate and hits the ground; why would you not pick it up and eat it? I’m damn sure a baby would. By the way, the 30 second rule, is bollocks. The instant any object comes within a millimetre of the ground, it becomes covered with a microscopic film of bacteria – so do you honestly think it’s only on the ground? I do understand, there’s a certain level of etiquette by which people are expected to live their lives, but really, think about it; how is poor hygiene as a grown up, any worse for someone than poor hygiene as a child. If anything, I’d say it must be better – adults have had a lifetime of bacteria fighting to inure themselves.

To me, it all appears so obvious; the rest of you, perhaps less so. So consider it; consider the reasons that we have always been told to ‘wash up’, ‘keep eating areas and especially bathrooms and toilets clean and germ-free’, ‘you must wipe away every trace of bacteria’ (which, as earlier stated, none of us regular people have even seen anyway) and so on and so forth. The more hygiene-conscious folk among us will be undoubtedly purchasing hundreds of dollars worth of cleaning, scrubbing, germ removing and so called anti-bacterial products each year; all in a vain attempt to ‘completely rid surfaces of germs’. People. For God’s sake, germs are everywhere, they’re in the air, they’re on the ground, they cover everything, they are constantly all over us; you cannot rid your house of germs. We lay our food on plates – uncovered plates I might add – in open air. Do you seriously believe you’re eating only what is on your fork? What about breathing? Again, do you think the air in your lounge room, shared with four other, possibly flatulent, family members, is unadulterated? Probably not, no; but that’s it, it’s a triviality – it doesn’t matter!

Germs, bacteria, infection and virus are everywhere. You can choose to be sucked in by corporate propaganda and buy in to the myriad anti-bacterial cleaning products that are out there; or you can trust that you as a healthy human being, will handle it.

Before beginning this piece, I would like to make clear that I am not a user of illicit substances; nicotine and alcohol are my current poisons of choice. Admittedly, like many, my younger years did provide an introduction to cannabis, but that was soon relinquished. Nothing more was ever sampled.

The World’s heavier, harder drugs such as cocaine, heroin, LSD, ecstasy, methamphetamine and the like, have earned an unequivocally bad reputation; occurrences relating to the aforementioned I believe, have been blown up and sensationalised by our old friend, the Media. Now, I will not for an instant claim that drugs are good – but neither will I maintain that all these drugs are as bad as they are purported to be in this particular forum. If they are illegal, obviously, they are prohibited, therefore, not to be had; but realistically, what we as the public see and hear of drugs in various news broadcasts, is not always, entirely accurate.

Granted, I am not a user; although I have had first hand experience of people who are. These are generally good people who have simply made the choice to try something different. Alcohol is a drug, but it’s legal; cocaine is a drug, but it’s illegal. In my experience, both have more or less the same affect on people; alcohol users, if anything, are more prone to violence than users of other drugs; that is, LSD, ecstasy (I have no experience with heroin) and lastly, the most vilified of them all, meth. That’s right people, I have been in the vicinity of people taking methamphetamine, and yes, I have lived to tell the tale. You see, not all meth users become hopelessly addicted to the stuff, not all users go on rampages and kill everyone in sight; not all meth users are bad people. This is a misconception built up and perpetuated by the media, then hit home by those reality Police shows on TV. We see television clips of meth users, sleepless for a week, acting as if they’ve been inhabited by the Devil; heroin users broken down, sleeping on the street in a puddle of their own faeces and urine (hell, I’ve seen drunkards like that); cocaine, ecstasy users who have lost the plot… it goes on.

So tell me this. If these people had not devoted their lives to binge drug-taking and instead, had endeavoured to fashion a life for themselves as a respected member of conformist society, how do you think they would have gone? Do you think they would have succeeded? Do you honestly think that these people, the very same people who in another time would have gone on to become rampant drug users, could in this time, go on to become upstanding family members, or pre-eminent businessmen? Exactly. You see, those reprobate drug addicts who fill television news broadcasts, then later take up the majority of that Police 10/7 show, were most likely, not blessed with the level of rational mentality or even adequate cognitive function, that you might consider normal. They were probably never going to be able to make it in the big wide world and by succumbing to drug addiction, all they have done is prove this.

So don’t be a dung beetle in sheep’s clothing by swallowing all the crap that the media tries to feed you; be objective. A dickhead will be a dickhead sober or inebriated; give him drugs, he’s still going to be more or less a dickhead. Conversely, a gentleman will be a gentleman sober or inebriated; give him drugs, he’s still going to be more or less a gentleman. Drugs don’t change who you are, they merely amplify who you are. Conclusion? Elementary. It’s not the drugs, it’s the people who take them; besides, far as I can tell, alcohol is much more to people’s detriment than most illegal drugs could be in their sleep.

Armageddon. It’s a hell of a word – for some, perhaps literally. So, how, why and when will it befall our planet?

Couldn’t say exactly, but here’s a little something to consider in those rare moments between dealing with threats that our lavish, extravagant lives are killing the planet for future generations; or being fed sensationalised hype about Global Warming and impending doom. It is true that the current generation is ruining the game for latecomers, yes; but not in the way we might have expected. Now. I will simply place before you the facts, then leave it up to you to deal with them – so put on your deciphering hats (and be sure to pull down the brim so nobody sees your shock, your alarm, or your trembling lower lip).

The year is 1850. The World population has just cracked that fabled 1 billion mark. Wow. Who could ever have foreseen that one coming?

The year is now 1930. When somebody wasn’t looking, the World’s population doubled. It is now 2 billion. Work that one out, geniuses. It took one thousand, eight hundred and fifty years to propagate one billion people, then only an additional eighty for the next billion.

The millennium clock just shifted, 2000. We now have over six billion people.

Permit me to simplify.

1850. 1,000,000,000 people – 80 years on, add another 1,000,000,000.

1930. 2,000,000,000 people – 70 years after that, this time add 4,000,000,000

2000. 6,000,000,000 plus – 60 years after that, anybody’s guess.

In fact, there has been professional speculation (that has to be an oxymoron) that by 2060, there will be around 10,000,000,000 people walking the planet… Really? That’s all? Who the hell’s doing the sums here? If, in last 70 years until 2000, the population increased four times the amount it did in the 80 years prior to that, how can they honestly assume that in the next 60, it will only go up by that same amount – 4 billion? Personally, I think someone is fudging facts.

This phenomenon is referred to as the Population J Curve. Essentially, for as long as time has been ticking, and people have been procreating, population has been exponentially growing. ‘But of course,’ I hear you saying in that pompous tone of yours, ‘that’s obvious, the more people there are, the more people there are to make more people…’ Exactly. Exponential. So, if, in 1850 they bounded through the billion threshold, then in 2000 we did the same but at six times the scale, the question becomes, for how much longer is this sustainable? Pollution, climate change; all well and pertinent – but is anybody really concerned with our inexorable population? Yes, I realise that China has implemented sanctions on child birth, and so they should, they are by far the greatest offenders – if I knew China’s population yesterday, I sure as hell have no idea of its number now.

So Global Warming. It might be the thing to nab us, what with an excess of water in the oceans; plants and life in general not handling the erratic weather patterns – but that’s not scheduled for a least 100 years. Meantime, our population is out of control. A layman could easily sit back and say: ‘No worries, more people, more workers, more being built and developed, therefore more products for consumers and all that’ – but that’s not logical. It is this planet that is our ultimate source of life; without its bountiful offerings, we could not survive.

Check that, we will not survive.

To all you renters out there who believe that you’ve chosen an easy, stress-free life by avoiding the rigours of home ownership, I ask: are you enjoying making somebody else wealthy while your own bank balance dwindles on account of rising rent prices?

Now, I understand there are a great many renters in the country who would embrace the opportunity to own their own home, but can’t manage the house deposit – I’m not having a go at you. At least you have ambition. Come to think of it, I’m not even having a go at renters who are content to be tenants for the remainder of their lives; oh no, I’m merely pointing out your folly. For a start, most fortnightly rent charges are well above the average mortgage repayment for the same time period. Even if they one day became level, really, how can a logical person think that pouring money into something that provides no tangible return, is financially prudent? ‘But what about rates’, you say, ‘my landlord pays my rates’. That’s true, he pays your rates every three months – every eight weeks – using two weeks worth of your rent. Good logic. ‘But what about when stuff goes wrong at my house’, you say, ‘my landlord fixes it for me, no worries’. So tell me, wise one, how frequently does this occur? Is he spending upwards of $300 a week amending breakages? ‘Nah, but at least I don’t have to worry about it.’ With that, good sir, I cannot argue. That is a valid point. You pay over $30 000 an annum for peace of mind – unless somebody breaks your window and steals everything from you. Then you have nothing.

Finally, for all you unhappy renters: if the notion of accumulating sufficient money for a house deposit comes across as an insurmountable task, just think. All you would have to do is set aside 100 dollars a week. It might take a while and it might hit you as a gargantuan struggle, but then, nothing in this world ever truly satisfies unless it does result from a struggle. 100 dollars a week. Stop buying crap you don’t need and that amount of money will come easily. 100 dollars a week – more if you can afford it. Everybody buys crap they don’t need, so don’t try to argue otherwise. Also, set up direct debit and for God’s sake, don’t be tempted to check how impressive your accruing balance looks or sounds. At 18 months, a new car might suddenly jump in and take priority.  Don’t do it. Stay firm. If you delve into those funds before they’ve matured, you won’t look back until they’re gone.

How many people out there know somebody who lives their lives by that corporate adage, ‘The more you buy, the more you save’? Or perhaps you are one of these people..?

Need I point out the flaws in your, so-called, logic? Need I elaborate on my own logic regarding your erroneous consumer methods? Fair enough. Here I go. Example given: you visit the supermarket one pleasant day and despite boundless adherence to your list, find yourself captivated by and forced to buy a variety of other products. But why? You’re such a sensible person.  Problem is, you’ve been taken in by garish packaging, bright signs and flashy labels. Unsurprising. The human brain is programmed to respond to such media and it is only our sense of ‘we know better’ or ‘we cannot afford it’, and use of rationale that enables us to exit the store without over-spending by thousands of dollars. Second example given: a flatmate returns home after a shopping trip with half the items in the bag, being products the flat already has. Asked to explain, the flatmate replies as if talking to a bunch of imbeciles, ‘Well they were on special, we saved like, thirty bucks, course I got them’. Interesting take. Discounted price notwithstanding, these items still cost money; money that the flat mightn’t have been able to afford at the time. The same applies to any flamboyant discount sign – no matter how cheap it may be, it’s never free. Whether we like to believe it or nay, advertising is a massively controlling force on our consumer lives. Brand names command us to buy now and providing they embellish it with enough bright colours and loud noises, the chances are, we will make that purchase just as quickly as we can.

Therefore, when you return from your shopping trip, having purchased twice the amount of produce; subsequently spending ten times the money allocated, it’s not that you are an ignorant shopper – it’s probably not even so much that you are easily led – it’s simply that your desire to not miss out on the best deals, is quite overpowering.

(Reckon the force of that addictive personality must be rather compelling too, yeah?)

In my experience, when people undergo spontaneous intervals of tangible sorrow, their bodies will tense, their shoulders usually hunch, their chin sometimes dimples, their lips often quiver, speech becomes intermittent, their tone changes becoming choked and less coherent; for females make-up runs as moisture cuts rivulets down cheeks – but most noticeably – primarily if the despondent character stands before an audience, fingers are generally spread as hands are used in a futile attempt to hide their shame and thus, shield their face from view.

Stuffing of fingers in eyes or the periodic wiping away of tears? This kind of display is reserved mainly for movies and television; also for those people who want others to recognise the fact that they are – at least portraying – crying. You see, the instant that somebody lowers his/her head and drags an uncoordinated hand across a cheek or better yet, bungs those bacteria-ridden fingers into the eye sockets, we as the audience, immediately think, ‘Oh, that poor soul, looks like they’re crying’.

Now, think reality. Cast your mind back to the last time you shed tears… was your first thought to make your eyes all bloodshot and puffy by jamming in your fingers? Was it to quickly remove those signs of sorrow before they could exit your eyelids and dribble down your cheeks? Probably it wasn’t. Your first thought would have been regarding the reason for the tears, not the tears themselves; sure, once you feel them breaking loose and running down your cheeks, you would have probably considered wiping, or even drying the eye sockets themselves, but unless you are auditioning for a spot on TV and need to really amplify the effect, why would any genuine crier wipe the tears while they are still innocently wrestling with their eyelids?

Most likely, they wouldn’t. Not in a genuine case of tears, anyway.

The point, around which I have been tip toeing, is that, whenever big shot celebrities put themselves before a camera to deliver an oration or similar; then for whatever reason – usually regret at causing some great scandal on which hangs their entire career and future – apparently ‘break down in a wash of sorrow’, illustrated by the immediate jamming of fingers in eyes and frantic wiping of cheeks – because obviously, if they are truly repenting for their illicit ways, the last thing they want people to see is genuine tears.

Obviously. (Sarcasm tends not to manifest so well in writing.)