Agentnaz's Blog

Modern Prufrock. Conjurer of Woes and Worries.

Month: July, 2012

Keep Your Friends Close, Your Enemies Closer – but Don’t let the Bloody Cat out of Your Sight…

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Cohabiting with a cat is not without it’s share of peril. My wife often tells me she’s had the cat longer than she’s had me; a veiled suggestion that there exists some sort of pecking order, and that I may not feature on it quite as highly as I might hope..
They say ‘My Enemy’s Enemy is my Friend’. But in this case my enemy’s enemies are more cats and, as such, are just as much of a bloody nuisance.

Many of us wander through life wondering what it’s all about, searching for a clue to give us some hint of what our purpose is in life, and why we are here.
The Cat suffers from no such inner turmoil. The Cat knows, unequivocally, that she was placed on this earth with the sole purpose of causing me as much Minor Grief as possible.
Now, Minor Grief may not sound that bad, but it is the quadruped’s equivalent of abuse without leaving a mark. If she were to just brazenly claw my eyes out, for instance, a fair amount of attention would be generated and she’d be in a lot of trouble. She’d at least have a few questions to answer. But she plays the long game. She knows all the little things she can get away with. The purring behind my head whilst I’m trying to watch tv, the death-stare when no one else is watching, the knocking at the door to be let in (isn’t she clever – she’s learnt to use the door knocker! ), weaving between my legs on the stairs or leaping at the arm of the sofa in a thrashing scrambling blur of claws whenever there’s a moment of tension during a horror movie (causing me to behave in a manner not becoming a grown man..)
Of course if I complain about any of these things individually then I’m being unreasonable. If I complain about them collectively as a campaign of terror being waged against me, then apparently I’m unstable and need ‘help’.

It’s like Death by a Thousand Cuts. Each on its own quite innocuous, but when added together it becomes more than the sum of it’s parts and is enough to drive a man to an incident involving a clocktower and sniper rifle.
Or maybe just a catapult and a cat.
Or am I being unreasonable?

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Laughing all the way to the Bank PRISON.

Banks are bastards. Everyone seems to be discovering this for the first time, as though banks had always been the stalwart champions of morality and decency, and have only just now strayed from the path of the righteous. Banks have never been there to be our friends. Despite the claims of their adverts, no one from the Halifax has ever magically appeared to help me carry stuff up the stairs or to reach a high shelf or to just generally ‘be there’. What they have done is to help me every step of the way into crushing, crippling, debt by ‘helpfully’ piling on ever-increasing charges the deeper into it I get.

So, as if the collapse of the economy brought about by reckless lending and dubious trading tactics wasn’t enough, we now hear about the deliberate manipulation of the markets for individual gain. We then have to chew on our fists whilst enormously wealthy men get to shrug their shoulders and say ‘i didn’t know – no one tells me anything’ while their Bentley waits outside to take them back to their country estate.

Money lending used to be seen as the crudest and least honourable form of earning a living, and was earmarked for only the lowest and most disdainfully regarded sections of society. Now these moneylenders shape and change our daily lives with their crooked dealings, and when it all goes wrong, they make us pay for the damage (and their bonuses), so that those most responsible can continue living a great quality of life, while us normal folk feel our living standards slipping significantly.

They say crime doesn’t pay, but it depends what school you went to and who you work for.
If I was employing people to manage such vast amounts of (other people’s) money, I’d make them work in a special building where every floor was made of collapsible metal mesh, suspended above a pit of hungry angry lions. Everytime the public was disadvantaged by unscrupulous dealing, a random desk would drop, taking its screaming heartless occupant with it. That would make them think twice.