The Lottery Of Life.

I examined myself last night! No, not like that, i'd need a mirror if i did. I'm talking in a sort of metaphorical sense. I'll explain, 'cough.'

Whilst doing my weekly shop on Wednesday i decided to buy a Lotto ticket for that evenings draw. Normally i don't bother, as luck and good fortune only happen to other less deserving people and besides, the woman who works in the Asda kiosk is a reet miserable bugger [and you know how much i hate whingers] and therefore try to avoid her like the plague. Her resemblance in looks and charisma to that of Madge from TV show 'Benidorm' is scaringly uncanny!!

Anyway..... due to various appointments and having to attend my local health clinic to get an abscess drained it was late Thursday night before i managed to get the time to check my 'lucky' numbers. Now i know it's shaky ground to be on but the jackpot lolly had already been mentally spent, well, everyone does it. A new hip, a Stannah stair lift, some pectoral implants [don't ask] or a full size pool table that i'd promised myself, that was before the old combi boiler went belly up t'uther year [those few that are paying attention will remember my blog/rant about it]. So what did i end up winning? Yup... diddley-squat... again. Dammit, i could almost taste that spanking new static caravan at Chapel St Leonards ! 
 

At this point i decided to call it a night, in a quit-while-your-behind sort of way. So, on went the kettle for my customary bedtime Horlicks whilst i cruised the the TV channels for one last time, and hit the jackpot. A BBC4 documentary called 'On The Streets' about homeless people in London had just that minute started. Best bit of TV i've seen since Wendi Murdoch bitch-slapped that flan-man infront of the Commons Select Committee. That's my kinda woman :)
 
The next 90 minutes was fascinating viewing. I've seen lots of documentaries about homelessness but this must be the best. One woman filming a small group of people over 18 months or so, recording their thoughts and dilemma's. What did surprise me was the amount of foreign types who were sleeping rough. Poles, Canadians... allsorts really. One of the many things that's always interested me about sleeping rough [apart from the fact i've done it myself in the distant past] is the fact that we could all find ourselves living on the streets if things start to go pear shaped and also the reasons why people find themselves in that predicament to start with. Divorce, unemployment, sexual/physical abuse and plain old bad luck are all valid reasons why 'normal' people find themselves living in a shop doorway being urinated on. 
 
One of the subjects of the documentary had a particularly nasty tale of woe. Jean, a woman probably 20 years younger than she looked, withered by wind, rain, illegal substances and cheap cider, commented that she was first raped by 4 men as a young girl and had since been repeatedly raped throughout her life to the point that the only time she ever felt anything was whilst being abused due to her life being so empty and damaged. Tough stuff.
 
 

So anyway, this got me thinking about myself. Earlier, cussing my bad luck at missing out on winning the Lotto, the caravan and the new hip. Compared to those on the street i must seem like an incredibly wealthy person in comparison. No money worries, a roof over my head and no traumas from the past casting a dark cloud over my life. Maybe that's the problem with people these days. We've become too self involved. All too busy wishing for things that are out of reach whilst ignoring all the good things we do have. Glass half full and all that. Maybe that's one of the reasons why the country is in such a state. Politicians stealing taxpayers money, greedy media moguls, greedy footballers, people mortgaging themselves to the hilt in the never ending pursuit of some kind of consumeristic nirvana ...... hmmmm!

Set the dogs on 'em !!!

If there's one thing i like more than a nice bottle of stout, it's a good old fashioned lynching! Especially when it involves a money and power crazy foreigner like Rupert Murdoch. Now, i'm a fair man... i said i'm a fair man [that was my Fred Elliot impersonation] and as such i've always believed in 'innocent until proven guilty' .... until now. Maybe it's because this Murdoch looks like the kind of hoodlum that would kick a pregnant woman between the legs if it meant earning a few extra quid.

I think i've mentioned before how much i dislike anything to do with R.M. Sky tv is banned at Casa Heckles and so are his trashy tabloid rags. Although, all those people who are soo outraged about the hacking of phones belonging to Millie Dowler and fallen soldiers should maybe examine their own conscience's as buying his papers makes themselves just as guilty as the tabloid hackers. Definite case of double standards going on here. Luckily for me my conscience is clear, therefore i can sit back in my favourite red [not pink!] armchair feeling ever so smug and self righteous. lol.

So now the carrot-topped/Grant Mitchell beating/ News Corp/CEO Rebekah Brooks has become enemy number one and about as popular as a turd in a swimming pool. This woman only serves to prove my theories correct. That all women should spend more time at home, cooking and cleaning. It beats me why anyone would want to work for Rupert Murdoch to start with. He can't pay very good wages. Why else would Brooks be unable to afford a personal trainer / hair stylist.

Proper music ....

... by a nice young man with good wholesome family values.