Living here, not living here.

I have had the same conversation with many people locally of late about how whilst their physical home is located in the weird little seaside town where we live, their income and social life exists elsewhere. Sure everyone has a quick coffee or a walk along the prom, but apart from that their hearts and minds are somewhere completely different. It has a nasty infestation you see, one that rhymes with runt, shunt, and hunt, it seems to be getting worse and it is starting to make life intolerable for anyone who wants do anything that doesn’t conform to a narrow view of how things should be. It’s not exactly corruption going on, more extreme crapness interspersed with nepotism but it lays a dead hand over the town that starves everyone out except for select few.

 From a personal point of view I have product that is proven to sell locally that I can’t find a stockist for and skills that I can’t market as all the shops are run as hobbies for bored rich home makers and all the paid work in my field is handed out to a select click of people, most of whom, quite frankly aren’t up to the jobs they have been given. A notorious coke and pill-head is often seen running creative workshops for children locally to my constant horror and you can predict who gets all the jobs that are advertised because the posts have already been filled beforehand and the advert is merely a legal formality. It’s not just me though, whichever field you look at you see the same narrow gene pool of people and, unsurprisingly, the same few ideas with a slightly different hat on get regurgitated time after time with the same lacklustre results. It’s slow death, both for the town and for poor sods like me who struggle to get a look in, in fact, most of the stuff we never even hear about until it is a done deal.

Of course I am completely shooting myself in the foot here talking about it, what we are all supposed to do is to sit quietly and pray that the cokehead will have a brain hemorrhage in front of the kiddiwinks and someone will finally halt their gravy train or the local grant grubber will finally turn over a project so amateurishly done that it can’t be swept under the carpet any longer. On that happy day I shall throw a party, but until then I will do what the rest of us do and focus on the world outside. 

The way I am talking you would think I was describing some pokey village in the back of beyond wouldn’t you? But around eighty thousand people live here and you only notice a certain few, the same stagnant pool of people doing the same old shit. They are just phoning it in now, that’s what happens with no competition and it really shows. 

It is for much the same reason that I rarely socialise around here, everywhere I go, it’s just so depressing. It gets to the point where you have to fill in a health and safety assement before you leave the house past midday, let alone of an evening. Just step into any pub and its, “oo look! They got someone killed!” , “There’s a total psycho!” “Don’t go near them, you don’t know what you will catch.” “Don’t let them know where you live as they will make a proper nuisance of themselves.” No wonder I spend so much time alone with a good book.

The whole town has been utterly poisoned by a few handfuls of people, it’s so depressing to see. They are like locusts or maybe even cockroaches, crawling over everything so you don’t want to go near. Sadly, they live a lot longer and you can’t call in pest control on them.

The sad thing is that the world just isn’t fair, they won’t meet their just end and the rest of the town will have to scratch around while they have their snouts wedged firmly into the trough. I guess I’m supposed to sum this up with some pithy little sentence but, sod it! I really can’t be bothered! 

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