Step Bitch: The Jobcentre's That Way
I don't know about anybody else, but when I'm walking through the city centre, looking for some cool shit to spend my surplus cash on, in order that I can do my bit to help the country out of economic gloom, I want to do so with minimum interruption and little or no human contact.
I want to be able to walk into a shop without having to stop and kick some young mom's ass for smashing my ankles with her pushchair when she got distracted by the smell of her finger, I want to be able to try on a pair of jeans without having to punch some fag in the windpipe for looking at me funny, I want to be able to change floors without having to fly-kick a bunch of teenage girls who think the exit to an escalator is a good place to convene with their huge GAP bags and talk about Limp Bizkit and, most of all, I want to be able to walk from shop to shop without some minimum-wage failure bodychecking me and saying 'Do you mind if I ask you some questions? kthx".
Be warned you degenerate mishaps, the next bottom-feeder that stops me from going about my business in the name of market research is gonna find themselves asking a question they didn't expect to have to ask: "Why am I face down on asphalt in an unfamiliar place??"
Is it too much to ask for these miscarriages of marketing to use some initiative? Have they never thought to themselves, while standing in the cold, being shunned by assholes like me "Hey, these people are all walking, maybe they could be going somewhere"? Why don't they harass people standing at the bus stop without shit better to do than tell you how often they moisturise or which slogan 'appeals' most to their tiny daytime TV brains?
If, through some inexplicable series of events, I ever find myself to be homeless, these are the people I'm going to hassle incessantly for change, these are the people who are going to stand there listening to me reel off my Oscar-worthy script about what terrible injustices I've suffered to make me deserve their money for smack. And if ever they tell me they don't have time for my shit, I'll bodyslam those hypocrital bastards traight through the aforementioned bus stop and into a passing horse.
I wonder whether these people ever ask themselves questions when they've finished pissing off decent people with money to spend from their decent jobs. I wonder whether they ask "Why do have no self esteem?" or "Why do my kids sniff glue?" or "why am I regarded as the lowest form of life on Earth?"
I want to be able to walk into a shop without having to stop and kick some young mom's ass for smashing my ankles with her pushchair when she got distracted by the smell of her finger, I want to be able to try on a pair of jeans without having to punch some fag in the windpipe for looking at me funny, I want to be able to change floors without having to fly-kick a bunch of teenage girls who think the exit to an escalator is a good place to convene with their huge GAP bags and talk about Limp Bizkit and, most of all, I want to be able to walk from shop to shop without some minimum-wage failure bodychecking me and saying 'Do you mind if I ask you some questions? kthx".
Be warned you degenerate mishaps, the next bottom-feeder that stops me from going about my business in the name of market research is gonna find themselves asking a question they didn't expect to have to ask: "Why am I face down on asphalt in an unfamiliar place??"
Is it too much to ask for these miscarriages of marketing to use some initiative? Have they never thought to themselves, while standing in the cold, being shunned by assholes like me "Hey, these people are all walking, maybe they could be going somewhere"? Why don't they harass people standing at the bus stop without shit better to do than tell you how often they moisturise or which slogan 'appeals' most to their tiny daytime TV brains?
If, through some inexplicable series of events, I ever find myself to be homeless, these are the people I'm going to hassle incessantly for change, these are the people who are going to stand there listening to me reel off my Oscar-worthy script about what terrible injustices I've suffered to make me deserve their money for smack. And if ever they tell me they don't have time for my shit, I'll bodyslam those hypocrital bastards traight through the aforementioned bus stop and into a passing horse.
I wonder whether these people ever ask themselves questions when they've finished pissing off decent people with money to spend from their decent jobs. I wonder whether they ask "Why do have no self esteem?" or "Why do my kids sniff glue?" or "why am I regarded as the lowest form of life on Earth?"