Friday 22 February 2013

Taking the Pistorious

There’s something a bit rough bloke in a pub about the Oscar Pistorious trial. You know the guy in the pub is asking you aggressively if you’re staring at his bird and then asks aggressively why you’re not staring at her if you say no. I find the whole coverage of it quite vulgar and don’t want updates every few seconds about his facial expression in reaction to every statement from the lawyers/judge/witnesses. Of course it is all about him: he is the man with no legs who competed IN RUNNING at The Olympics. Whether he meant it or not aside (though clearly that’s what the trial is there for) a woman died after he fired his gun and the bullets killed her.

A lot of the immediate sympathy died away with different rumours; the amount of shots fired, had there been accusations of domestic violence and close ups of his face when he was not smiling.

My opinion is irrelevant but I’ll fucking say it anyway: even if someone definitely thought it was an intruder in their bathroom then firing gunshots into the bathroom makes them a murderer if those shots kill the person.

Like a Rat in a Cage

I had my own moment of rage tonight. It lasted about nine seconds – then I remembered I was a coward. It wasn’t long enough for me to strap on a pair of prosthetic limbs and fire a gun several times into a bathroom. It was long enough for me to say something more aggressively than a man of my inept physicality permits.

I went to see Tim Burgess tonight at the RNCM. We got that there while the main support act were on. There were quite a decent number in to see them but it wasn’t like all seats were taken. It was a seated affair though – with assigned seats. And it was sold out so you were pretty much confined to sitting where your ticket told you to sit. The usher showed us to our seats, there was a drunk man with really bad hair sat in it. I pointed out that he was in my seat and he did the gesture that says “what do you want me to do about it?” so I said, “So go and sit somewhere else.” Maybe I cussed in there.

I clearly rattled him as he just sat, about two seats down, looking at me. Then later he came and sat next to me and put his hand on my knee and smiled. This time my mouth didn’t have time to bypass my cowardice and I just did the “what the fuck are you doing you dick?” face without saying the words. I had clearly rattled him as that was the end of the affair.

He did have really shit hair. By the sounds of him and the people he was with he was from Burnley or something so the world wouldn’t be a worse place if I had killed him. I don’t think slightly aggressive statements followed up by ignoring someone because you realise you don’t know what to do if he gets physically aggressive finished off with a blog about it read by no-one is the way to kill people, though.

The gig was ace, mind. I didn’t get any good pictures so I made this one black and white to fool some people it was a good picture anyway.


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