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Friday, 30 October 2015


Here's the opening few pages to my current humorous project - getting on well with it and great fun.

It will definitely be a book but could also be the makings of of newspaper contributions or a series of blog posts.

Beware of the Bull

Image result for bull clip art

 Random Thoughts,
If Thinking Aloud
Is Still Allowed

Joe Cushnan

Published in 2015 by Publishing 
Copyright © 2015 Joe Cushnan

The author asserts his moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author or authors of this work.

All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.


Image result for bull clip art 

The full title of this book is really ‘Beware of the Bullshit’ because bs is all around us. We are swimming, sometimes drowning in an ocean of political correctness + made-up rules by officialdom + opinions shouted, tweeted et al to sound like facts from every Dick and Dora + bandwagon-jumping politicians sounding tough or weasely + advertising executives scaring us to death in a bid to get us to buy cure-all stuff + daily frustrations and irritations to drive us to the brink of insanity, and on and on and on. We must be on our guard because every second of every day someone is trying to manipulate us to hand over our votes, our loyalties, our personal information and especially our money, or they are just annoying oiks getting in the way of a simple life.

Resist this nonsense. Beware of the bull. This book identifies some of it in my humble and, at times, not so humble opinion.

(And some taster entries.......)

Image result for bull clip art

Stop treating libraries as community hubs, crèches, nurseries, playgrounds, youth clubs, silver surfer sanctuaries and gigantic phone booths. They are places for books, reading, study, quiet contemplation, not indoor playgrounds for kids to run around in or places for adults to shout into their mobile phones, chat loudly or cackle uncontrollably. Sssssshhhhh.

Stop buying personalised car number plates. A55 H0LE5.

Stop reinventing, reshaping, remoulding, rewriting Star Wars. We get it. We got it a long time ago. These days the pointy-ear guy must be offending somebody. Enough.

Stop playing screechy diva soul music in coffee shops or else I will counter it by reading my newspaper in a high-pitched voice, slurping my coffee loudly, smacking my lips as I eat a pastry and burping with all the gusto of Desperate Dan.

Stop kidding ourselves that reducing plastic carrier bags is going to save the planet. All it does is tidy the place up (and that’s okay) but as an effective environmental action, it sits between pissing in the wind and farting against thunder.

Stop politicians and environmental lobby groups from dictating how much plastic we use. If you give me the choice of war (you know, that thing that bombs the shit out of the planet) and plastic, I’ll take my chances with the plastic.

Stop wasting political party money on printing manifestos that will be shredded the day after elections. Fewer manifestos, a decline in supplies of shredded paper and a hamster cage bedding crisis is the worst scenario.

Stop inventing scientific-sounding ingredients for cosmetics, lotions and potions and just admit it’s snake oil infused with gobbledegook and a dash of balder.

Stop crowding entrances to buildings with your gangs of smokers. You smoke if you want to. I’ll not smoke because I prefer not to. But spare me the jog through your fog-smog whilst holding my breath, otherwise I’ll fart my way in and see how that goes down. 

Stop putting me on hold when I call a service centre. You call centre people have forced me to hate Vivaldi’s Four Seasons and no matter how often you tell me how important I am, I am so thoroughly pissed off that I am very reluctant to confirm my mother’s maiden name which, by the way, is really none of your damn business. 

Stop texting while walking. One day you will fall down an open hole in the pavement and never be heard from again. No signal. 

Stop contaminating TV soap operas with criminals, boozers and liars. Does life in these miserable locations not have any comedy? Does it all have to be gangsters, guzzlers and gits?

To be continued......

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