WHO THE FUCK WE ARE AND WHY THE FUCK WE’RE HERE

Here’s the thing. Some days, we wake up and wish we hadn’t. You know the kind of morning; you get out of bed and stand on a drawing pin that sticks right into your heel and throbs like a bitch, but barely leaves a mark. So you have already started your day in pain and feeling like a complete pussy because of it. You have a long day ahead of you, and decide to have some breakfast, so you head to the kitchen, pour yourself a lovely little bowl of Nesquik cereal, and shovel a nice big spoonful into your trap. It’s at this point you realise the milk went off three days ago, and in essence you are eating Nesquik cereal wrapped in cheese.

You are running late now, because you spent the last two hours puking, so you throw on your shirt and head off. All the time you are walking through the street, ladies are looking at you with big smiles on their faces and glints in their eyes, and you are thinking, ‘wow, things are really starting to look up for me!’. You start to swagger like John Fucking Travolta. Then you get to work and see that the fourth button of your shirt is in the fifth hole. You look like a complete jack-ass, and feel even worse for acting like a cocky cunt not 20 minutes ago.

Despite all of the downers you have already faced, you get chatting to the hot woman you really want to bang, the one that works at the station behind you. She seems interested, and you think, ‘maybe THIS time.’ That’s when you rub your nose and the big fuck-off grey nose goblin that had been slowly dribbling it’s way out of your nostril for the past ten minutes, WHILST YOU HAVE BEEN TALKING, plops off onto your sleeve. She, of course, notices that you calmly and subtlely try to wipe it away, and it isn’t hard to see that it’s now smudged it’s way across the back of your hand. She says, ‘I gotta get back to work’, and you lose out on the pussy. Those are the kinda days people wish they hadn’t bothered. Well, I’m here to say, THAT’S GREAT. You SHOULD feel like that, because the world… sucks.

I am disgusted to admit that I am on Facebook with the rest of the world, purely for party invitation purposes of course because, shock-horror, I hate the thing. Now, there’s a little quiz thing on there which puts you head to head against your friends. It’s called ‘Compare People‘, which pretty much sums up what it is. Now, thus far, out of approximately 200 people, I have been voted the FIRST person who can drink the most, and the TWO HUNDRETH happiest. Are we noting the corrolation there, people? Everything sucks SO BAD that I have turned to Jack Daniels in a bid to cheer me up, however slight the change may be. So before anybody starts babbling on and on about, ‘what qualifies you to tell me everything sucks, meh meh meh’, I feel that I am pretty qualified. Hell, the statistics prove it. As does my alcoholism.

Now, let me clarify something for the whiny bitches that will inevitably cry themselves to sleep because this isn’t the most original concept in the world, and let me tell you right now that this is the one and only time that I will address you. Because I know what you people are like; if I email you back, you’ll suddenly think you have finally found a friend, and before I know it, you’ll be sending me letters written in your own shit, or Mark Chapman-ing my ass with a pistol you borrowed from the top of your grandad‘s wardrobe before he touched your special places.  So there you have it. If you email me negatively, I will assume your grandad sexually molested you as a child.

For starters, this website isn’t anything like, ‘Is It Me Or Is Everything Shit?’, for three reasons:

One That’s a book, dumb-ass.

Two I can’t be bothered to research a goddamn thing, so screw you, dumb-ass.

& Three I am one miserable, biased motherfucker who really, honest to God and all of the heavens above, does not give a Monkeys Chuff who he insults or hurts…

....dumb-ass.

So if you’re expecting a nice little tick-list with lovely quippy  remarks about boy-bands and Coke Zero, THINK AGAIN, MOFO! I’ll be tackling whatever the hell I want, from politics and war, all the way down to music and current fads. Also, this website isn’t like many of it’s ‘competitors’, say Maddox, because for one thing, Maddox is occasionally positive about things, and two, I have a secret weapon. Meet my RANT ROSTER!

So, if you wanna feel happy, and giddy, and oh so awesome, you'd better be going somewhere else buddy. Because this right here isn't going to be a sing-songy, zipadeedoodah, uplifting walk in the park.

Oh, and by the way, the number for the UK Samaritans is 08457 90 90 90. Hold onto that. You might need it. More than once.

- Kevin Sanders