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Funny Cats in It
Funny Cats in It

Funny Cats in It


They say the trauma rooms are
filled with people who had
accidents in the home.
Well I was traumatised and
at home but I strongly suspected
it was no accident I could get
no WI FI service or phone data
on the same morning an anti
capitalist protest was expected
in the city.
Funny that in it

I snapped open my cupboard
crackled open a cereal box
and popped the lid off my
plastic jug of milk that I
had bought the day before.
Not like the old days when
I would rob a glass pint off
a door step to go with my
breakfast of smack crack'n pot,
but thats a different story.
This is a story about a very
dark period of my life.
The time I went nearly half a
day without internet.

I sat infront of my TV and
started to munch, feeling
quite angry I had been
thrown off my usuall mornings
routine of checking various
inboxes and reading my
horoscope as I had my coffee.
I wont mention what brand I
drink, I wish I could say it
is Fair trade but I cannot
afford Fair trade products.
What I meen is I cant afford
all the extras that are
needed to go with them.
I would have to change my
entire wardrobe or I would
look like a phoney.
You don't see people posting
pictures of themselves eating
a bar of fair trade
chocolate dressed in Prymark
or Nike do you?
Funny that in it.

I like my TV shows like I like
my memes. Short and to the
point. Therefore I find the
ads are the easiest thing to
watch, especially when I have
just woke up.
Not that I ever use anything
that is advertized,
The Television may be the
keystone around which our modern
culture has been built but
rarely does it provide
solutions for our modern
problems, you don't see ads
for things we realy need on
telly do you? Like job
opportunities for instance.
I tell I lie, there has been
two suggestions of employment
I have seen advertised on TV.
A career a a teacher or
a career in the millitary.
A job where you lie to kids
or a job where you kill kids.
A choice of being thrown
into an opium fuelled war
zone where the hate is
split into so many fractions
you don't even know who the
real enemy is.
Or if you dont fancy teaching
at an inner city high school
you could try the army.
That just looks like a bunch
of estate agents on a team
bonding weekend, if you believe
the ads.

They dont show you twenty year
old lads with missing limbs
talking of how lucky they
where to hop away relatively
unscathed or twenty year old
widows weeping besides fresh
graves on the ads do they?
Funny that in it.
Perhaps they could run some ads
to show some of the great
achievements of the military
in recent history. Maybe some
before and after shots. They
could show how a brutally
crushed Lybia was turned into
one of the most civilised
nations in Africa thanks to
western involvment.
This meme already exists,
you would only need to change
the words before and after to
after and before and job done.
People believe their telly
dont they?

Telly switched on and I'm
greeted with the sight of
someone who wishes people to
follow him in an almost
biblical sense and vote for
him in a pointless
popularity contest called an
election. None of the
contestants have any tallent
and they all give the the same
insincere answers to the same
irrelevant questions.
But I suppose I will have to
vote for one of them or
watching the news for the next
three months would be like
sitting through the final
score when you've not got a
bet on.
I don't think this event
will be remembered as a great
turning point in history as
all the indications suggest
it will be won by either
Labour or Conservatives
this time round.
Funny that in it.

I can't be bothered listening
to him as its most probably
all lies..
I know thats a little harsh,
I do feel the odd snide remark
politicians get for being
liars is a little unfair,
because If you're a murderer
and a peodophile you would
have to lie all the time I
would imagine. An honest
person may be able to run
a country but would probably
fail at masterminding a
satanic human trafficking
ring, and these things have
to be taken into account
when the next bunch of
puppets that pretend to
rule us are picked by those
that rule us. So if you're
worried about the integrity
of your local MP because he
once got caught lying on an
expenses form, maybe you're
not looking at the bigger
picture. Sure it is terrible
when it happens but
criticizing a politician for
lying is like criticizing a
shark for eating a child in
the sea.
On a Cornish coast after
he'd raped him.
Its in their nature.

I switched channels

I thought I'd got lucky and
caught some adverts when I
saw a man looking sadly at
the camera and instantly
recognised him as African as
he was wearing a Chelsea
shirt that was three seasons
old. Thought at first it was
an ad for a charity.
I have a soft spot for all
charitys as when I worked
in sales and marketing I
always found it easier to
beg money from peoples heart
than sell shit to their brain.
I realized I was wrong
when he started talking and
still no phone number had
appeared on the screen.
He didn't sound Scottish but
it was like a glaswegian was
talking at me, as I had no
idea what he was saying but I
could tell he was angry about
something, and for some
incomprehensible reason he
seemed convinced I could
understand every word he
said. So I just did what I do
at open mic poetry nights when
when im clueless of somebodys
message. I gave him the benefit
of the doubt that what he was
saying probably was deep and
meaningful, as none of it rhymed.
Pulled a can of cider out of my
pocket, filled a pint glass, put
the empty can back in my pocket
and carried on watching him.
Things started to make sense
soon enough when the sound of his
voice was faded out and somebody
started to translate. I missed
what the translator was saying as
I was thinking I could of done a
better job of editing this myself.
The translation could of started
as soon as the interviewee
started talking.
They have wasted about twenty
seconds there. I reached for my
phone and had started in my mind
to compose a one hundred and
fourty character opinion on this,
thinking to maybe save around
thirty of them to mention I had
seen nothing else worth
mentioning in the three or four
minutes of my mornings viewing
so far, when I envisioned some
smugster claiming it was done
purposely, perhaps to fill out
the time needed for the show,
and maybe the bosses of the
editor I had just dissed online
where very pleased with the
job done. I doubted very much
that was the case but somebody
tweeting a reply along those
lines may make himself
look smart, (especially if
reinforced with a retweet)
and thus make me look stupid.
Then even worse, I realised
somebody may point out that
just because I did not
understand him perhaps there
were people watching who did,
like in Glasgow maybe,
and flag my tweet for racism!
I snatched my hand away from
my phone feeling relieved we
have not quite reached the
point of technology where your
phone will read your mind and
tweet your every thought before
you even have it, when I
remembered of course, I had no
Then all of a sudden
my desire to exorsize my
birthright to speak without
fear was greater than my fear
of speaking freely and
I was unafraid of looking
stupid or hatefull on the
internet. I was going to be
even more offensive, perhaps
say the editor in discussion
was no doubt a woman, as the
job done is so shit, and I
did not care what anybody
thought about that, I could
be labelled a hater of
puppies for all the
difference it made to me.
I needed to tweet like I
had never tweeted before.
But I had the luck of virgin
budgie that had inexplicably
lost his voice on the first
day of mating season, and was
feeling just as frustrated.
The switching off and on had
not worked so far so I took
my battery out of phone,
unplugged my router as well
as taking the wire out of the
back. I then went under my
stairs to switch off the power
to the house, just to make
sure, but when all was plugged
in and switched back on there
had been no change in status,
and by the time my WIFI came
back on line my balls had gone
off line and with them my
desire to rebel against the
self policed PC online culture.
Funny that in it.
As my TV came back on I was
greeted by a screen that read
"welcome to part two."
Great, just missed some adverts
this day just kept getting worse!

Turns out they also have an
election coming up in this
African country and the reason
the fella was as high as the ISS
on blood pressure in the first
half is because a band of
militia came through his village
machine gunned it in half
and fired rocket propelled
grenades at anything that moved.
Apparently this is a common way
for local MP's to canvass
support from their constituents
over there.
I dont think they have quite got
the hang of democracy yet.
They were introduced to democracy
fairly recently, about the same
time they were introduced to
Toyota Pickups.

rail lines, waiting times
tin mines landmines
they were all sold mobiles once
they'd paid for there landlines

Mcdonalds Coke
a ruling class driving gold
Rolls Royces with AK47's
to quell dissenting voices

education in a language they
didn't understand
their first generation without
connection to their land

the doller
western agricultural methods
Running water
vaccines for diseases
they had never had
and a shit load of new diseases
they had never had before
Funny that in it.

Not much chance of machine gun
or rocket propelled grenade
attacks round here.
Handguns are the weapon of
choice for the war lords in
my neighbourhood, and in
virtually every grenade
attack down my street this
year the grenades have been
thrown by hand, but that was
not the point. Maybe if my
internet was working I would
find time to worry about
an unlikely sudden violent
death or even empathize
with TV people, but I had
more relevent concerns.
The night before I posted
a poem online and that
morning I realised there
is a comma I need to change
to an and. I was worried
people who read it that
day would never read the final
edit, the real version. The
way I had always intended it
to be read.
I was worried a girl, who has
never messaged me, could of
messaged me, and now thought
I was ignorning her.
I was worried my view count
might not go up at all that
day on my Youtube vids. If
I wasn't watching them who
would? One of them got just
four views the day before
and at least seventeen of
them was me.
Funny that in it.

It was dinner time now on the
telly. What was left of his
family left there chores and
gathered into what was
left of their dining room to
the left of their outdoor
kitchen to dine on what had been
left for them by the raiders,
who's only understanding of
left and right wings are
formations on a onesided

I guess what to eat is one
worry I dont have today. I
might as well just microwave
a hotdog. Not much point
going to the trouble cooking
an organic Grecian chicken
dinner for one if I can't post
a pic of it to Instagram.
I may as well have what he's
A few roots from his failed
harvest of GM crops that
claimed they would repell
pests wihout the need
for pesticides, but didn't.
They also failed to produce
seeds so he has to buy more
next season.
Funny that in it

and what looks like a bit of
undercooked monkey arm.
All I wanted for tea was a
photograph of it. He's got
a crew from channel four
filming him dine and he's
still got a face on him
like he's chewing..
an undercooked monkey arm.
Some people are never happy.

The translator asked the viewers
if we thought we could live on
47p a day. Probably not I
thought as I took a huge drag on
my spliff and filled my lungs
with at least 47p's worth of
smoke in one go.
If you also take the 90% tax
price of the tobbaco in the
joint into account. The only
part of that spliff that wanted
to kill me, and no doubt one day
will, without ever having the
decency to get me high first.
The only non edible yet
consumable plant I can think
of not deemed illegal by
those wise ones that make
their laws.
Funny that in it.

The camera zoomed in on the
now youngest member of mans
family and our translator
now turned narrator and told
how this boy lost his right
foot in an explosion that
killed his younger sister.
I saw a look of lost innocence
in his eyes that in an ideal
world no child would ever have.
they told of a mind stuck in
some ethereal place trapped
between an illusional reality
and a fake reality.
Yes I could tell that kid was
looking at a screen.

I looked at the angle of his
shoulder and the position of
his head made a quick triangulation
calculation and worked out he was
looking at the palm of his hand.
Or what ever he had in the palm of
his hand.
This lad had lost his foot and half
of his family but not his dignity I
thought, as I realized that like any
self respecting teenager this kid
was looking at his phone as he spoke
to an adult.

The camera moved down to show the
viewers his injury.
As the shot passed his hands I saw
I was right, he was on his phone!
(I also noticed he was an Intermilan
fan which I found strange with his
dad being a Chelsea fan.
Only in Africa!)
But it was what I saw on his phone
that made me pebbledash my TV
screen with a gob full of crispy
rice, some of it is still plastered
on with full fat milk and full
strength cider, it was just a split
second peek but I had gone so long
without a piece of the action myself
the sight of somebody else doing it
sent me into a jealous frenzy and I
am ashamed to admit I lost controll
of all bodily functions and I blurted
out the words "you lucky little
bastard" because I had just seen he
was on fucking Facebook! It was
unfortunate timing the camera was
zoomed in on his stump when I shouted
this at him, I feel bad about that
but over the last half hour I'd had
it explained it to me this place was
hell on Earth. So imagine how I felt
when I realized even people in hell
were having a better day than me.

Dont get me wrong I was feeling as
grateful as a westerner can get,
but at that moment I did not need
to walk six grueling steps to my
tap to fill a jug with boring water.
I needed to watch a sleeping cat
fall off a shelf.
Funny cats in it.

I sat there despairingly clutching
empty space, knowing 4G was
all around me, I could almost
taste its sweet radiation in the
air. I at first pleaded, then
commanded all WIFI travelling
through my house to get into
my phone and work,just fucking
work! I slumped to my knees,
eyes back on telly, and just as
I was thinking that I would give
anything to swap places with
somebody from that village,
just for this one day, do you
know what the narrator asked
the viewers? You won't believe
this but he said. "Would you
swap places with anybody from
this village, even for just one
day?" I thought, wow, that was
fucking wierd.

It was clear by his tone, and
the whole context of it all,
that it was a rehtoirical
question. Well he did not ask
that question to a wrong person
at the rite time. For at that
moment it felt like God himself
had spoken to me through my TV
and had given me the message to
change my fucking attitude.
I wanted to type LOL in big
letters of embarrassment for
having such a mockable thought,
but what would the point of that
of been?

Its not the words that make a poem
its the sharing of those words.
A scream is not piercing until it
finds a spine to chill, and if a
tree lol's when he is too deep in
the woods to get a signal no one
will hear him fall.

I realized the time had come to
change channels. Yes! Adverts.
There was an ad for one of those
companies that will fly your
camera far away from the house
you spend your whole life working
for, and even take you with
it so you can keep minutes on
the minutes of happines your
houres of misery have paid for.
The ad had a song playing on it,
and when I heard it I was
filled with joy. Not because I
like the song, I hate The strokes,
but I was reminded of the 90's,
not that its a 90's song it
was released in 2001,
but it has a 90's vibe, and most
of my past is a blur anyway so
a lot of music just sounds like
Oasis to me.
But for the first time that day
I felt happy, because I loved
the 90's.
And we didn't have the internet
Funny that in it.

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About This Story
3 Jan, 2019
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