You only get one chance to make a first impression...

By Kevin Sanders

 

I suppose I’d better introduce myself. I’m Kevin, but my friends know me as ‘that miserable cunt’. I’m the one that came up with the concept of this website, if you can call the idea of moaning, whining and bitching a new and original concept. It’s not. In essence, I guess I’m just the guy who coughs up money to air his grievances on a website that very few people will ever read.  Which, of course, makes me angry.

I’m not gonna pull any punches here. I’ll just describe ‘me’ as best I can, just to give you an idea what you are dealing with. I guess, looks-wise, you could call me brooding, or mysterious. You could, if you were being generous, but that’s not the description that I usually receive. It’s more often along the lines of, ‘the guy that looks disturbed’, or ‘the one that looks like a drug addict’. I’m neither of those things, but I guess when God was handing out good looks, I was made on the Sunday. That’s not to say that I’m unattractive… I have my plusses… it’s just that if you saw me in a dark alley, you’d probably reach for your rape alarm, just in case. I didn’t ask for this. It’s genetic, and probably the leading reason that I’m a fucking atheist.

I’m quite popular, I guess. I don’t have a shortage of friends. What I do have though, quite clearly, is one of those faces that continually looks mopey, or angry. So, just for that, I get quizzed all the time as to whether I’m okay, or why I look so depressed, or whatever, which is fucking annoying when, by the ninth person who has enquired into your mental health, you actually ARE getting fucking depressed.  ‘’Are you okay Kevin??’’ Well, I fucking was! Then you kept making it ABUNDANTLY FUCKING CLEAR to me that I look like I’m intending to book a meeting with the Grim Reaper any time now, and all of a sudden I feel all self-conscious! WHAT A SHOCKER!

My best mates don’t help much either. Infact, and I’m not joking here, a pizza was delivered to our house under the name, ‘Kevin is Miserable’ a couple of days ago. Now, say that I actually WAS clinically depressed, how would I take that? Probably with a handful of Nytol or something. I have told them to never become Samaritans or anything, because I can’t see this strategy working…

‘Hello, Samaritans. Can I help?’
‘…I don’t wanna be here anymore. I think I’m gonna go.’
‘..…OH CHEER UP YOU MISERABLE BASTARD!’

See my point?

I don’t put a lot of effort into my appearance, because, fuck it, who am I trying to impress? Hell, even if I WAS going to try and impress somebody, it’d be with my personality, not my fucking hair or whatever. Fact is, guys, if somebody decides that they don’t like you because you haven’t combed in a couple of days, hell, they are shallow jackasses, fuck’em. Basically, YES, I will wear a T Shirt that I have worn two days prior if it doesn’t smell or I haven’t dropped anything on it! You know why?

No dirt + no odour = CLEAN FUCKING T-SHIRT, YOU JACK-ASS.

I mean, when did it become a fucking rule that you had to change your T Shirt everyday? Okay, think about it like this. If you change your T Shirt every day instead of every three, you are tripling your wash-load, which means you have to spend more money on washing powder. Furthermore, you have to use the washing machine and dryer three times as often, which is tripling your carbon footprint. In essence, by being such a stuck up cunt, you are burning more fuel, further endangering our ozone layer and subsequently DESTROYING OUR PLANET. Yeah? So you can stop looking down your nose at me now, you snooty bitch.

My hair is long and black. That doesn’t mean I’m gothic, it doesn’t mean I’m emo. It means that I am LAZY. I can’t be bothered to go and get it cut. Hell, I can’t even be bothered to cut my beard, and I do that MYSELF, so anybody who is expecting me to go to the barbers is just plain fucking retarded.

Plus, I hate barbers. I intend to do a massive rant on SMALLTALK in the coming weeks, because there is nothing in the world that annoys me more, so I won’t go into too much detail. Suffice it to say, being forced to sit in a chair for 45 minutes and talk about the weather with a guy called Leo isn’t my number one priority.

You’ll spot a theme. Most of the things that piss me off are to do with PEOPLE. It’s not that I hate people. I kinda like them. It’s just that I would rather that people would be people ELSEWHERE, so that I didn’t have to put up with their general person-ness.

Now, here’s how my column will be set out. There will always be one mega-big rant about something that really pisses me off. If you are expecting a nice little piece of gossip, a bit of harmless banter, you wont get it. It’ll be explicit laden, acid-spewing evilness. The kinda stuff that you’ll agree with, controversial or not, but won’t wanna admit to. Then at the bottom, there will be a bullet points section of things in my life that have pissed me off since my last column. My first column will be discussing, in great detail, the pisshole that is FACEBOOK. Tune in for that, folks.

Until next time, I have been awesome, and you, undoubtedly, have been fucking annoying.