If I had one wish I would ask for a drink that makes you piss tits. But if I had two wishes, I would ask for a perfect world. A world where there is no war, no suffering, no famine. A world where everyone has an equal share and every equal share is plenty. Everyone would have a roof over their heads, food to eat, someone to love them and a drink that makes you piss tits. A perfect world. And then we wouldn't have politicians, bosses, cold callers, police, army, traffic wardens, bouncers, bills and there would be no more charity. We wouldn't need it. And if there's no more charity then there won't be any charity workers. Yeah, those cunts.
Think of how peaceful this world would be if we didn't have any charity workers. You woudn't feel like a selfish prick every time that "very sad abandoned dog" advert came on, you wouldn't hear that upsetting sound of a bucket rattling and you could walk straight down the High Street on a Saturday afternoon in a minute instead of half an hour because of all the weaving. Of course, charity workers do great things but some of them are simply annoying bastards doing annoying things to annoy people. It's just a coincidence that they're holding a bucket with The Red Cross written on it. I stood 6 feet away from a charity worker for 15 minutes the other day and I thought I might actually punch the fucker.
I was meeting a friend at Vauxhall tube station and she was late. But to make it worse, I was early. But, hey, what's to complain about? I'm not outside in the cold. No, I'm inside in the cold, leaning up against a wall and watching a man dressed as a clown collecting money for charity. I have no idea what the charity was for because I couldn't understand what he was saying, despite him repeating it constantly. "The sane", he said. "The sane. The sane. The sane".
I mean, he can't be collecting money for people who suffer from sanity. Although I can see why that might be a worthy cause. But he was determined, that much was clear. "The sane", he said. "The sane. The sane. The sane".
Sure enough, after a few seconds he turned to me and said "The sane". I had no money on me so couldn't give him anything but even if I did I'm not sure that I would have. He's dressed as a clown. He wants the respect of grown adults so that they will acknowledge his need for urgent fund raising but...he's dressed as a clown. A fucking clown. During rush hour, London's most OH, JUST FUCK OFF time of day. And I can't see anything written on his bucket. And he keeps saying "The sane". Just keeps saying it. "The sane. The sane. The sane".
I have Kindle on my phone so I thought I'd do a bit of reading until my friend turned up. "The sane". I'm reading a book about Stalin. "The sane". He's a very interesting man, Stalin. "The sane". Did you know how he became the Premier of the USSR? "The sane". Well, by all accounts it was Trotsky that should have succeeded Lenin after his death. "The sane". But Stalin, who Lenin didn't trust at all, gave Trotsky the wrong date of Lenin's funeral. "The sane". Russia looked on as Stalin lead the funeral procession. "The sane". And the people took this as a sign of the bond of loyalty shared between Lenin and Stalin. "The sane". Stalin then..."the sane"...went on..."the sane"...to kill 20 million..."The sane"...OH, WILL YOU PLEASE JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP! YOU'RE DRIVING ME MAD.
It's widely believed that Stalin, like Hitler, was mentally ill but maybe they were actually driven man. They both started out socialists but as they gained more power they must have been surrounded by more and more people all committed to changing the world and among them was probably a charity worker constantly buzzing in his ear, constantly, all day every day "The sane, Stalin. The sane. The sane, the sane, the sane" until one day he just exploded and went RIGHT! FUCK THIS. I'M SENDING MILLIONS OF PEOPLE TO LABOUR CAMPS AND KILLING TROTSKY. I'M HAVING A RIGHT OLD TIME OF IT.
The charity worker turned to me again and said "The sane". Again, I apologised for lack of funds and he turned to face the passing commuters and said "The sane". Always "The sane". "The sane, the sane, the sane". How can I enjoy the relaxing opinions of Stalin when all I can ever hear is "The sane". "The sane, the sane, the sane".
He turned to me again and said "The sane". I still had no money so he went back to the commuters. "The sane, the sane, the sane". Maybe I'll never stop hearing "the sane". Maybe he's not even saying "the sane". Maybe I'm just hearing "the sane". Maybe I'm the only one that can hear "the sane". "The sane, the sane, the sane".
He turned to me again and said "the sane". I didn't apologise for not having any money this time. I didn't even tell him that I didn't have any money. Instead, I breathed deeply, I counted to 10 and I gently screamed "JESUS CHRIST, I'VE SAID NO FOUR FUCKING TIMES. I'VE BEEN STANDING BESIDE YOU FOR FIFTEEN FUCKING MINUTES. IF I HAD MONEY, YOU'D HAVE GOT IT BY NOW. IT'S NOT LIKE I HAVEN'T NOTICED YOU. YOU'RE RIGHT BESIDE ME AND YOU'RE DRESSED LIKE A CLOWN. A CLOWN THAT SAYS "THE SANE, THE SANE, THE SANE". GO AWAY".
He turned around to the commuters and said "The sane".
My friend arrived and we walked to a gig at the Battersea Barge. She was telling me about some monkeys she knows but all I could hear was "The sane". It was a Phillip Jeays gig. He's brilliant and his music is wonderful but it was hard to hear over the noise of "The sane". But it was nice to be there and catch up with friends. Not that I could understand what they said. All I heard was "The sane". "The sane, the sane the sane". I hear it all the time now.
I suppose you have to hand it to charity workers. I mean if that guy didn't drive people mad, he'd be out of a job.
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