It's Monday night in the west of Scotland and I have logged off my facebook. As is clear by my complexion and over all physique this is not something which I do regularly. However, a Monday night is over run with quotes from the BBC Scotland documentary series 'The Scheme.'
The Scheme is the lowest form of 'entertainment'. It's everything that is wrong with our modern society personified. We see people from a poor background, who are poorly educated being exploited by middle class film makers looking to make a quick quid at their expense.
Based on the facebook response to the scheme, it should be retitled: 'Poor people say the funniest things.' Does it make us feel better to look down on the poorest and most vulgnerable and sneer. Does it make us feel better to make jokes at the expense of those with drug problems? For a lot of the audience, the answer is a resounding yes. It does in fact make people feel better to know that they are better than other people. We could try to help these people? Nah let's just make a snide facebook group and see how many likes we can get.
These are real people, like us! They haven't got the chances that a lot of us have. From the moment they are born their social background dictates their whole. A repeat cycle of drug abuse, alcohol abuse and unemployment. Is this anything to laugh at? A pregnant 18 year old drug addict? A 20 year old drug addicted father? Would you laugh If it was someone that you loved? Would you want someone to laugh if it was you?
But let's bury our head in the sand and forget that these people are real. Let's just make jokes and post hilarious quotes they said because they never got a decent education.
The year was 1897 and an Irish author named Bram Stoker had just published his seminal work; the novel ‘Dracula’.This was by no means the first time that the notion of a vampire had appeared in print, but it definitely popularised what we have come to know to be a vampire.Although not a huge success upon initial publication Dracula began to build momentum and over time it became a worldwide best seller and a paragon of horror fiction.And of course inevitably Hollywood came calling to translate this character to the silver screen.According to Wikipedia as of 2009 an estimated 217 feature films featuring Dracula have been produced.Some of which are classics in their own right such as Bela Lugosi’s Dracula and the silent film ‘Nosferatu’(although not a direct adaptation a lot of the ideas of the novel are presented.)It was clear from these films that vampires where something to be respected, a creature of fear to haunt your nightmares.Films like the lost boys modernised vampires and made them relatable to a whole new generation.And everything was all well and good...
Fast forward to the year 2005 and a no talent hack called Stephanie Meyer has decided to squat and take a shite on everything I have ever held dear about vampires, writing and women.
Twilight is a book that exists simply to rationalise the sexual feelings that a young girl feels as she blossoms from childhood to womanhood.This is stage one of the Meyers evil plan.She is adding relatability to her character so they can empathise and rationalise that they want to fuck.However the character in her book can’t fuck because she is all hot and heavy for a vampire who might rip her fucking head off and drink her blood if she touches his willy.This is sending out the wrong message about sexuality to teenage girls!
The story is also incredibly sexist.This girl’s sole reason for being is to please the perfect Edward Cullen.Someone who she is willing to lose absolutely everything for and who is creating unreachable goals for the teenage girl audience who Stephanie Meyer is pandering too.Yes we get it, most 15 year old boys have a permanent boner and think lighting their farts is funny.So a shiny vampire does seem like a fucking prince compared to most 15 year old boys.
And that’s another thing that pissed me off, it took everything cool about vampires and stripped it away.It made them shiny baseball playing baw bags who spout out stilted dialogue and pose.In the first twilight film that was literally the relationship building up between Bella and Edward.A series of scenes of posing and staring at each other.Who needs character development eh?
Lastly from the extracts of twilight that I have read some of the writing is appauling, for a professional author to be able to knock that out is outrageous.Stephanie Meyer is a woman in need of a good editor.
Twilight is not romantic fiction.There is no real romance in it, nothing genuine or sentimental.Nor is it vampire fiction as it shits all over everything a vampire book or film should be.It’s just a series of words promoting abstinence and causing head aches.
I met that girl the other day. The one that I convinced myself I was in love with. The one who would draw whiskers on her face when she was drunk. Rebecca. Jesus it was weird. I seen her and she seen me. We both knew we’d seen each other and we had that moment of panic. That precious few seconds where we are both intently watching each others body language and weighing up who is going to greet the other. Weighing up whether a greeting is going to occur at all and assessing whether or not we can blank each other. We both came to the conclusion that the blank was out of the question. So then, it was the Mexican stand-off. Who was going to crack? Not me! I’m not going to say hello, I am never going to say hello. In fact I might never say hello again.
‘Hello there stranger.’ I say losing every shed of dignity I ever possessed. And what is with the stranger? I sound like a cowboy yet to master the howdy. I know then that it’s the stop and chat. This isn’t a passing moment. It is most definitely the stop and chat. I feel my feet stop moving and I stand to attention. That confirms it. This is a stop and chat for sure. If I where to become mobile again now I would surely look like some sort of low to mid level mentalist.
‘Jesus, it must be…’ I hesitate. I know for a fact that it has been four years, eight months, three weeks, four days, seven hours and twenty three minutes since I kicked you out of my house. We’ll round it up to five years though. Just to sound a little less mental. ‘Five years!’
‘Yeah, something like that.’ She pauses.
She could move now. She could say, ‘Well, I have to go.’ She won’t though. She’ll be intent on torturing me. She was always intent on torturing me, even when we where together. Even when I thought I loved her. Even when I thought I didn’t love her as much but still cared about her. Even when I was pretending to like her even though I realised she was a repugnant little creature. Even when I found out she fucked another guy when she was drunk. Even when I told her to get the fuck out my house and never darken my door again! Even then! Even fucking then! She was intent on torturing me. Well it’s not going to work darling. I am going to stand here as nice as you like and let you know how amazing my life is now!
‘Sorry, any other day I’d have chatted for a while, but I’m running late. I’m meeting my fiancé for Lunch.’
I cannot believe it! She hit me with a surprise torture. A covert torture. The worst fucking kind of torture that could have been bestowed on me. I prepared myself for a different style of torture then she hits out with this torture! I should have been ready for anything. I’ve forgotten how cunning she can be! And what is the deal with mentioning the fiancé! I didn’t need to know that. She could have said friend. Even boyfriend, but no! I get hit with fiancé. She has some nerve. I really should let her have it. Let her know that I despise her. I burn effigies of her. I spit at the mention of her name. I should let her know that I hate her!
‘Yeah, no worries. We really do need to catch up though. No hard feelings!’
Look at her. Walking away. Her perfect peach shaped behind. Her flowing hair…If I where to call after her I could tell her that I think I still might love her. I could tell her that I could make her happy this time! That I wouldn’t drive her into the arms of another man. That I am different. I’m not as needy. I’m not as dependent. I am not a dog. I am a cat. I’ll act like I don’t give a fuck but I’ll kill a bird and drag it into the front room to show you I love you. No! I can’t keep doing this. She is poison. She’s venom. She’s…Beautiful. She’s gone now. Out of sight out of mind.
It’s been five years. Why do I still do this to myself? It’s been five years. It’s been five years…
Surely this cannot be right. I have woken up completely void of memory, in a fiendishly decorated house with a family I know nothing of. They seem to be in the same boat, we are bound together by this. Only time will tell how I have come to find myself in this situation, but I fear the worst as today my ‘son’ was trapped in a room for 3 hours because a door mysteriously disappeared.
P.S
What is rosebud?
Day Two
Things have gone from bad to worse. There are times when I find myself completely out of control of my own body and my ‘family’ have reported similar sensations. It seems as though some evil force is controlling us. I am scared and I am frightened as it seems this person has a blacker soul than the very pits of hell. Today for no reason at all I soiled myself. I was perfectly aware that I needed the toilet but I sat there and soiled myself. I was humiliated and this fact was not helped by the fact that a humiliation theme seemed to play in the background. I do not know where I am but this surely must be hell. The reality is setting in that I may not live a very long life. God help me!
Day Three
Today was worse than yesterday. I not only soiled myself but I also went all day without eating any food even though the fridge was right there. I tried to call out to whoever was controlling me, but an inhuman language came from my mouth. Pure gibberish. I have not had a bath in three days and seem to be substituting sleep for little naps when I cannot withstand the exhaustion any longer. The relationship between my ‘wife’ and I has become strained. Today I flirted with her and tickled her for no apparent reason against my better judgement. I am becoming less and less in control of my own actions.
Day Four
HAVE MERCY! I can hear the screams, the whimpers and the cries. My ‘son’ has become trapped in a doorless room again. It has been all day now and he who controls us shows no sign of letting him go. I know that I will never see his face again. And to add insult to injury I have been robbed by a robber dressed in stereotypical thief gear. He stole my television. I tried to alert the authorities but I have no phone and have no idea how to get to a police station. As far as I can see my universe ends at the end of the street! I cannot say I will miss the television. It was just a still image with a repeated soundtrack over and over. I seemed to get great pleasure from this though.
Day Five
He has stopped screaming. There is no noise at all coming from the room…I have nothing more to say.
Day Six
The grim reaper stood at the wall where my ‘sons’ lifeless body lays today for 6 hours. I was greatly saddened by this. Partly because in a way I feel he is my son and partly because I know I could be next. Somehow though I managed to fight through this sadness and play pinball for 9 hours straight, learn the electric guitar and play a game of chess….BY MYSELF! The door finally appeared at the end of the night and my sons corpse was taken. The smell is horrendous. And you will never believe what I found in the room. My sons grave…I mourned for 20 minutes then went back to a game of pinball. I am feeling happy again and I have no Idea why.
Day Seven
And then there was one. Today was the day I shall refer to now as the great fire. I had stressed upon my wife the importance of reading cookery books. However she took little notice of my pleas as she could not take me seriously as I turned her right off me by attempting to juggle for her. She was preparing a simple meal one minute and the next the house was up in flames. The kitchen is completely destroyed. Empty, save for the grave stone. For the first time in two days I have seen the face of death and I begged him to take me. A phone appeared on the wall today. After the fire. I couldn’t have saved her…I couldn’t have.
Day Eight
Alas, I write this in a weakened condition. I am at the edge of a swimming pool where I left my journal. I have been in this pool now for near on 12 hours. The ladder suddenly disappeared and I am completely unable to climb out of my own free will. I smell the death in the air. My life has been short and I can’t say I am going to fight for my survival. When death comes I will welcome him. I only pray no-one ever has to go through what I have gone through. Goodnight.
These diary extracts are attributed to anon, found in the bag of a robber dressed in stereotypical robber clothes at the police station in sim city.
