Chapter 1
I am one who does not do anything all day but feels the body language of the massive. I am fat, and the rest of the world is thinner than I am. From Ethiopia to the rest of the world. I am consistently fat.
Everyone has a dainty figure. I lumber like lumber. I feel like I am a felled tree.
I am unpleasantly surprised I have not dropped in weight. I eat less, and people persuade me to eat more.
The exodus is what we all want to be in London, England, and in Scotland.
The rampaging bulls come in the boats and make it right with the border control and land a hotel deal. They stay in a hotel as long as they can, and people cheer them on as they leave.
I am almost ready to fade out when they offend me by offering me a job. Not now, I am over sixty, but the good ship wants to wing me?
Illegals around the world are to be treated as subhumans. No one wants the illegals, and they roam around even as babies, unable to settle.
Two by two and some deaths along the way.
And with the due respect that is due to the other trash, we must dispense with them. Throw them out and do not take them back.
Maybe is the fish and chips that they want to eat or somehow the prosperity of our great nation. But other nations, too, have this sort of wealth.
Because we fish all day and do not find such a fish as trash.
We did not want them to come over; we don't need them to do the work anymore. There is nothing for them here, and if they come, we throw them back at the sea.
Foreigners come and take the jobs, rape the girls, and do horrible things to us all. That is why we kill them when at prayer.
I say they are all evil.
Our guys say we do need them, but when they refuse, that is when we go lassie on them and lacerate them.
Hatred has come to pour oil on Brexit.
We are getting poorer and more in need of aid.
Food banks are the straight door to our needs.
Take it or leave it, they are easy to go. When did I make it right with you to criticise this?
"Coupons out there, it is, and here we are, lost it?"
"Coupons are good, the same as in the war, then we know where we are."
"A bit of dripping that made us."
"No fruit and salad?"
I am sorry, sir and madam, I do mean to, because there is nobody who has the right, because everyone is afraid of losing their jobs. I do not have any work, so do not just criticise, I am bullied into it.
"No one is bullying anyone here; it is bad for business."
"What is your business, my dear?"
"I am in sales."
"Well, that is a comeback."
"How many have you sold?"
"I have not sold, and there is nothing in store."
"How do you keep yourself busy?"
"I produce and produce, but nothing happens."
"That is very sad, and that is why the migrants are not allowed into the country, yet because nothing gets done?"
"How do you mean, do you want me to get into trouble?"
"No, why"?
"Well, we prosper?"
"Thanks to the health service."
"Yes, the best there is."
"Of course it is free."
"We get simple organised people, and because they are healthy on low-fat diets and such, we get on."
"We do many miles a day."
"How many?"
"The more the merrier, and then when we reach the end, we start again."
"The best, the very best of ourselves is in the healthy option."
"Let's drink on it."
"The safest roads? To do the many miles?"
"Of course, we do not want accidental deaths."
"Nor murders."
"That is why we have the best people in Britain."
To the world, we have a good reputation.
We did not know what else to be but good with figures. Life is full of lying and cheating and buzzing off to do no good. We are never useful. We did it because the world is going yellow.
We reason as if we were on dope.
"People we recognise and where they come from, unfortunately, the passport office is not good enough, not being free from corruption. They had to close the office because many came without proper thought and care."
"This is on purpose."
"Mostly we are careful."
"But we can't be too careful."
"Of course."
"Upon my soul, it is wonderful what we are."
I did not know where all this came from, the boat people racing towards England and landing in some dude place where they are not wanted. Hostility grips this England at the sight of them.
The self-respect of the English is unique; they have more self-respect than anybody else in the world.
"From the wonderful life of Alice in Wonderland to the steamy love scenes of Rebecca, we have self-respect."
"Rebecca is a wonderful wonder?"
"So is Alice in Wonderland a man ogling a child makes wonderful reading. But she was not affected; it was he who was."
"He was too old for her."
"Ah."
"We are all of us nice people,"
"We read all of Charles Dickens."
"Our constitution is there to protect our innocence."
"The dishonesty of ourselves makes us better able to cope; that is why we have a drink problem."
"To let."
"What is to let?"
"My shop."
"Stop this, there is not much evidence of such behavior."
"That speaks right to my heart that someone can read Dickens and not get it right with reality."
"Some babies die as well?"
"Babies die all the time."
"They are not British citizens, do not speak English, and did not get baptised."
"How do you know?"
"The BBC told me."
There is a nod of approval and condescension for everything done properly with the Brits.
Everything is done right for those who have the means.
When they speak, they speak in something like unison.
And if you disagree that they are all in it for the good guy, they will argue with you till you die. They are the ultimate good, and they have always been good and will always be better.
"You are all allowed to disagree with me."
They got the country from the toils and troubles, and there is now the spectre of disagreeableness, and then after that they can live in peace and prosperity forever.
The poor are not nice people.
"Give me bread money."
"Let them eat cake."
"Why should we all eat nothing"?
I tossed and turned as the world partied and then went mad because I was never invited.
People sparkle when they think they are in the right, and because the Brits have given the world the Bible, although it is debatable, because the poor man came from Germany and was ostracized by the great king Henry.
He was led to believe he had found a refugee, and then he died as soon as his usefulness ended.
The initial bible studies led me to believe it was written by someone who did not receive a penny from the King.
The scorned him and made him a hack. I am sorry for the soul of the king.
He led everyone to believe that he did grand work with this man. He died in poverty, and his efforts were stillborn, and still the pomp and ceremony continue.
In order to speak the truth, we must bend the truth? What has happened to the human race? Has it gone bananas and got laid?
We must think right and straight. Why does it mean what does it matter who does what to whom, but what does matter is when we get everything wrong? No one speaks the truth because the boat people are less important than anyone else in this land of the Noddy.
But still, there was nothing to the worst possible sunken bath that the world has enjoyed.
Babies are dying, babies are humans with different colors; they arrive on the boats and then have to move on again.
When it is too much and they die, another one has to care for them. It is most unusual to see them and not cry. The whole life force is there inside the child, and he is thrown into the wild and dies. And all for what to be boarded up inside this cell where there is no freedom, no work, and no money?
"Nobody cares for the people with differences, with poverty, and without the right documents. They do not mean anything to us all."
"Their parents are mad? To get to the sea, knowing the chances of fatality."
"They look sad at their loss and then move on to have another try."
"Death by drowning again and again."
They do not cry, and what else is there, their baby gone and no longer able to rein in the floods.
In Italy, they can make hats and jewellery.
This is a country where, when one goes to school to become a scholar, it is against their interest to make a scholar out of you.
The women teachers said when they thought I was not looking. That they would book a kid for six thousand and lie with them for diversion.
This is a kid for seduction, and then we can be able to discuss the real issues of where he goes.
They had photographs of black boys, and one was chosen to be sexually active with a teacher, and they all laughed and laughed as if the whole world would laugh with the women teaching staff who denied those boys the privilege of being males.
Then they saw me watching and held themselves and turned the pages of the photographs.
I was so sore. As if it hurt and damned at the same time.
And then they had the rituals of the sexual actions, and then the teacher, having taught these boys the manner of sex, left and fled to their husbands.
Laughing all the time.
I puzzled as a child to understand what went on.
I had a nosebleed and did not want to be like that little boy in the photograph.
We threw away all for snobbery and sexual gratification, and now we are loaded with the proceeds.
We love to do it with mirrors.
"How sensitive we all are."
"They should not have gone on that boat."
"Who put them there?"
"Their premature mothers."
It is beneath contempt how the richly turned-out want to humble one. To feel the hand in the pocket and a hand out means a lot. After working harder than anything, I was given a bonus. Twenty-odd pounds. I feel it is not enough to satisfy me. I want more sirs.
My dear Luther, there it is, sin and all this for writing the Bible and being unable to settle the score with anything but an X.
People laugh at me now as I walk and cross the road to the next house.
"Is that the lady unable to leave her house?"
I try not to speak so as not to frighten the kid. But it is not true that I can't leave the house, can't I?
To think that being stingy was useful means a good woman needs food, clothes, and shelter; most of these editors or publishers do not want to understand.
Try paying everyone off with the twenty quid, they would think one has gone mad.
The fact of life, having a star-studded cast involved with literary output is bad for the usual author, they just do not understand why it is costly being in there at home writing novels that sometimes never see the light of day.
Having seen to my own needs, I want to make sure the whole groups know what it is to be stupidly involved and not to be able to write about sex. I find that having to write about such a delicate, intimate subject is not on.
Because the normalizing of spanking and tickling has made the whole world shameless.
"We do not spank any of our children."
Now show the pussy and all that is not for me. I am feeling the cold blasts of the glances of those who know who they are. They look gorgeous, by the way.
Their successful careers are based on them and their pussies. If the positions were reversed, I would sing the phases of the pussies, but being the failed writer and then the failure all around has made me a sad creature. Like a limp vampire.
I want to sing the pussies to sleep, but the enjoyment they feel about themselves makes me remarkable as their vanities and their spite is the keynote.
Rocky, bye baby, all the time, and it is nothing but nicer. They are always sending me up, so I must return the compliment and ask them to hem themselves in.
There is a discussion that I, as a writer, am worth only twenty-odd pounds, and I want to ask what my opinion of their werewolves or vampire novels would be worth.
A laborer is worthy of his hire.
"Let the machines paint these silly creatures and let the machines write about them. That is what we all want and deserve."
So, having been paid twenty-odd quid for 15 or 16 years of worthy work has made me fear them. You see, they offered me a job as a reader, and as I hate their chit-lick and all that, I may have had a hernia.
So send me a message and send it right. We mean well, and the distance of time may be that if someone else offers me some money, let there be more noughts involved; otherwise, there may be another cross-link.
You all know where I am. Comments welcome.
If you must speak, then you must pay for the words you write.
