In Defence Of Telling Losers what you really think of them....

We are all, it seems, cursed with enacting completely meaningless interactions with people we hate. Its the way it goes. Sally-fucking-suck-hole still remembers that night you got really high and told her the story of your life, and as a result you seem to have signed on to forever having to say "hello" wherever you may run into her. It's Hell. And I wont stand for it anymore.....

In the spirit of the season, I had the pleasure of telling several boring waste of spaces what I really felt about them last weekend.....In doing so I discovered what bliss there can be in honesty....

Victim Number One was found dribbling in the corner at a Fabulous Fags late-night drinks on Friday night. The gent in question is the owner of a high-end High Street Fashion Store and a prime example of overstyled, American-Apparalised vulgarity. And not in the good way. It came to your bloggers attention that this moron had been telling friends of mine that I had once stolen money from him, no doubt to feed my reputed long term P Habit.

Doesn't he know I have a Trust Fund for that?

He Lent in to give me a kiss on the cheek, and naturally I recoiled. He then tried to engage in some sort of ill making "heart-to-heart" with your blogger, ending with the made-for-TV-movie line "you know that I like you as a person". I threw back "WELL I DON"T LIKE YOU", after I wiped the vomit from my mouth. There goes another fuckbag I wont be saying "Hi" to at DOC Bar anymore, thank god....Also, Buddy: Why don't you ask Santa for some Balls for Christmas and say your gossipy bullshit to my face?

Victim Number Two was found in that goldmine of Losers, Family Bar. After feeding the social smoking habit of a dimpled and adored friend, I found my pack of Peter Stuyvesants to be heartbreakingly empty. It's times like these that those of us with good outfits and passable looks must rely on the Kindness of Strangers for a Cig. Upon entering the courtyard at the afore-mentioned Bar, I asked the first fag with a fag for a fag.

At first he pulled out the pack slowly, withdrawing a cigarette. He then seductively held it in his hand for what seemed like an eternity. I said "I'm not going to beg you for it" at which stage he handed the blessed thing over. Hilariously, His conversational ice-breaker was "Do you guys play World of Warcraft?"clearly the only response my comrade and I could muster was a pure fit of hysterical laughter.

Then things got a little hairy. In an obvious act of insecurity at his own cyber-patheticness, the man had the nerve to attack my peacock-blue V-neck knit vest. He said "Don't you think you're fashionable with your little waistcoat" I replied "Yes I do". Then he went on and on, blabbing about how good I thought I looked in my "little" vest, which I did. I retorted "I'm going to give you three seconds before I throw my drink in your face: 3....2....1....0....." Splash. I chucked my vodka Lemonade, straw, ice and all over his untrimmed net-geek face. Whoops.

Honesty's the best policy kiddos....The two cunts mentioned above I will never have to greet or waste my time acknowledging again, Unless Hell freezes over. I suggest you all do the same. Save your energy for those you would hose down if they were on fire, and fuck social niceties.....

Consider the policy of a now London Dwelling Battery Hen Egg Millionairess friend of mine when dealing with Losers: "You're wasting your time, You're wasting my time, So why don't You Just Fuck Off?".