29 Apr 2012

Post 346:Do I feel harrassed?

Sometimes, I genuinely think about what not making any effort might look like

and each time I decide that as sh*t as things are, it could be a load sh*tter – for example, if you know me or have been following this self indulgent stream of misery, you’ll know I spend a disproportionate amount of time internet dating or receiving not a lot in return for quite a significant investment in time and energy because lets face it, no reasonably attractive girl seems interested in lumbering herself with a disabled person. It seems that anyone unburdened by my physical shortfalls is in a better place than me unless they’re an incredible arsehole.
I’ve received one or two emails in the last few weeks that reading between the lines, I would have ‘inconvenienced’ their future plans too much. Crikey, the love of my life didn’t even say that, she just stopped visiting me and then married someone else.
Perhaps that is an uncharitable interpretation but there’s no escaping the harshness of this type of rejection. It is pretty bad. Even a completely healthy me would find that hard to recover from. No-one likes being told they’re not good enough, unless they’re the sort of masochistic weirdo that’s into humiliation. Anyway, I’m not.
So imagine my surprise at receiving this, without even having messaged her first:
Hey, I couldn't not message you after reading your profile. I do not drive, am allergic to cats and am completely absorbed by teaching (poor match eh?!) but it's not about that. I just want to say do not give up on the hope that love is out there. True, insane, completely inconvenient, the part of you thats missing kinda love. Its sh** that all of a sudden out of nowhere life can throw you the kind of curve ball that can change your life forever. Through what you have written I can see your strength, determination, straightforwardness and sense of humour. Xxx
I don’t know about you, but that made me feel rather better and from her photo she was a beauty – what a nice thing to have done. Made me feel less like 1 of ‘The Undateables’ a channel 4 documentary following a group of people trying to find love even though their disabilities make it hard for them.

Now. their disabilities appear to be more cognitive, spilling over sometimes to physically disable them. For example there is a guy with a considerable facial disfiguration caused by a nasty neurological condition. Now I am fortunate that what makes me look odd is just looking exhausted, and not having full control of my facial muscles and eyes so I can’t really ‘pose for the camera’ but I don’t have to suffer having tumours on my face which must be so hard for him. My only advice to this guy is to ditch the ‘Benny Hill’ theme as his mobile ringtone, it makes him appear to be a ‘dirty old man’... I actually couldn’t watch it as it was a bit too real – I don’t think it is the same for me at all, I still have most of my faculties (I think) and I’m not anywhere near the stage where support workers need to be around to check things ‘are ok’, the other key difference seems to be most of these people (bar one or two) have had their disability all their life and have no expectations, this is deeply tragic but it does mean that they aren’t encumbered by feelings of longing and loss as I sometimes am and dating sites seem to make you feel guilty for passing over the profiles of girls who even to the kindest souls are ‘faces only a mother could love’. It is without question that trying to date like that must be torture and this doesn’t include the added pressure of having a camera shoved in your face!
Anyway, I don’t anticipate making any less effort. So even though occasional harsh rejections perforate the wall of silence, I still believe I’ve got something to offer even if at this stage it manifests itself as nothing more than going to a lot of gigs, an agile mind (ish) and a desire to keep others happy and laughing oh yes, and the willingness to spend every penny I get from my pension on supporting them.
I know I often start paragraphs like this but an old friend, Mr Charlie Kane started visiting regularly a few months back and he mentioned he was a fan of American ventriloquist Jeff Dunham so I set to work getting tickets for his show at Wembley Arena.

It was fun apart from the traffic getting there and Wembley Arena is a good venue as long as your eyesight is fine.

In future I will definitely favour music events there. I’ve been to some good’uns there.

As for Dunham, I’m a fan of comedy ventriloquism but you’re only as good as your characters (why do you think Keith Harris and Orville were so sh*t?)

as long as you’re not one of these c*nts that the joke is their lips are moving. Dunham is a proper ventriloquist but being a septic (tank –yank –catch up!) I thought his first half characters: Walter, a cantankerous American old-timer, and Bubba J, a redneck American don’t really translate to us mere Brits, but the sellout crowd (mostly American filling up a 12,000 seat venue) were chuckling away. In the 2nd half he pulled out his two best characters, Peanut and ‘Achmed the dead terrorist’

and the place erupted. The crowd loved Achmed’s catchprases ‘Silence’ and ‘I Kill You’. Peanut is probably less well known,

and his best bit was probably shamelessly racist (taking the piss out of the Chinese accent). To my mind this is absolutely fine, no-one gets hurt, most people laugh, just don’t be a dick about it – speaking of total dicks, my last carers

have taken to harassing me over the phone – ie they phone the house and swear at me. I hope those phonecalls from Bangladesh are costing a bit. The last one involved Hassan phoning up, saying ‘hello’, me recognising his voice and laughing while he said ‘you f*cking b*stard, get a job’ – gosh, how hurtful? Well Hassanul Banna Shagor, I should have just been the bigger man and ignored him but seeing as the written word is my best (and only) tool of reciprocity these days, I wrote a strongly worded email (laughable – I know!) to his wife (the only email address I had to hand) about ‘how proud she must be of her brave husband’ and ‘I hope she’s enjoying being treated like a slave’ and ‘is enjoying the idea of never being allowed back into Britain again’ – as you can no doubt tell it was all a bit playground. Imagine my surprise at getting a reply from what appears to be a direct email from Hassan, Agnesieka doesn’t appear to get a say – she must be thrilled at converting to Islam. Here’s an extract from Hassan’s reply – he’s an articulate fellow:

If you think think I should go to jail because
of the money I owe some bullshit companies then your whole fucking country should go to jail for
robbing us for 190 years and trust me the whole world knows it. I just made sure I bring some of it
back with me and use for better people. FUCK YOU AND FUCK ENGLAND.

I particularly like the bitterness at Victorian Empire policies. Nice. With smarts like that it’s only a matter of time before someone strikes up a ‘Hassan, the dead terrorist’ vignette It’s good to see how much people who willingly come to this country hate it. Makes me wonder why subcontinental people ever get mistrusted in this country, and if the whole world thinks we’re thieves no wonder the British are said to mistrust foreigners – we think that they must want to rob us and what do you know, some do?
Anyway, the real thing that gets me about this is that such an odious little loser has been able to make any impact on my life at all. Someone who when I interviewed him, I thought would never behave like this. If I had been an able bodied person this obviously never would have happened or if I’d known someone like him I would have personally made sure he got that richly deserved slap before he fled the country.
In life, we hate being told we’re pathetic – especially by a pathetic person. At least I have a good reason for being pathetic. In his case, there’s no cure for being a c*nt.
Oh, another couple of thankyous. Firstly to my university housemate Matt, now a Tory MP for dropping in with his youngest Ferdie

yesterday. He’s an amusing and articulate chap, and Matt’s learning on the job fast. No, it’s nice of him to make the time.
The main event of yesterday though was going to see 90s wunderband Placebo at IndigO2, the small arena at the Dome with my former carer, the awesome Bianca.

When I had booked the tickets months ago, she had been quick to volunteer as emo rock was clearly a big part of being a teenager for both of us without the self harming and suicidal tendencies. I also thought this presented an opportunity to eat first at my favourite restaurant in the world, the Dome Gaucho grill.

In my opinion you can’t beat a spiritually good rare fillet Steak with awesome red wine. The meal was lovely but you wouldn't have thought this country was in recession with how full the place was, and with people who sounded like complete chavs – my problem with Estuary English is for anovva day, this post is already too long! I’ll give it two years and I’ll be able to afford to go back to the Gaucho again! As for the gig, it was more a feast of sound. Indigo2 is nice

but they obviously haven’t taken into consideration what happens when people stand up.

So sadly we didn’t see much of the lead singer Brian who seems to get girls of a Lesbianic tendency excited!

The music and atmosphere were ace though.
Oh yes, that email is wouldn’t it be a terrible shame if it found it’s way onto some delightful lists. Happy Penis Enlargement Scams Hassan!



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