I was born in the not-so-United Kingdom in the year of our Lord 1973, which incidentally is the same 1973 of YOUR Lord, what with the pair of them being born only a few minutes apart, albeit in vastly different solar systems. At least, that what’s my father always told me… and I never had cause to doubt his word. From a very early age I was interested in the political machinations of man, finding the pretense of democracy almost as hilarious as organized religion.
As I got older, of course, I found such things less funny. As the results of these political maneuvers impacted more and more on my life – excessive taxation, arbitrary restrictive legislation, denied the right to carry a small bottle of HP brown sauce in my hand luggage on a plane – I found myself becoming more exasperated and in need of a release, some kind of pressure valve. And so I began to write.
At first I wrote long, rambling diatribes, full of hate, bile and vitriol, full of the fury of powerless frustration in the face of ‘the man’ as our North American cousins would have it. But then I began to learn some self control and so wrote not-so-long, comprehensible diatribes, only half full of hate, bile and vitriol, and half full of the fury of powerless frustration. Then I realized, to be effective, not just to my readers but to my own thought processes and sanity, perhaps I ought to be more constructive; I vowed not just to pull down the institutions in place but to offer alternate visions of how the world could be. I discovered it gets you nowhere just complaining and criticizing; you have to have the balls to offer up your own philosophy too. Or else, what is all that righteous bewailing worth? Sweet Fanny Adams, that’s what.
Still, the world can still be a maddening, infuriating place, so don’t be too surprised if, from time to time, you do come across long, rambling diatribes, full of hate, bile and vitriol, and full of the fury of powerless frustration in the face of ‘the man’.