Broken Peoples of Britain – UNITE.

Being gay is easy compared to my most harboured secret. Having an anxiety disorder is a doddle in comparison to the elephant that follows me from room to room. I am a transvestite of time. An emotionally cross-dressed modern man: I quite simply, was born in the wrong age. What is the silver lining to this conundrum? It gives one an excellent understanding of perspective.

We are frequently reminded that we are living in the modern age. The iPod Generation, the Digital Generation, the Internet Generation – yuck! The labels banded about make my stomach tremble and bring on a rash.  Can one really call our society evolved and ‘modern’ when the most basic core human values are dangerously absent? If there is no civility at a basic, ground level, then what chance have we got?

Oh Matthew, hush; this is all sounding rather cynical! Is it? Today I walked through the park and witnessed two down and outs injecting themselves with what horrors, god only knows. I went out for a drink with a close friend and some has-been poet who thinks he knows a thing or two about the world, proceeded to give my friend a completely unnecessary dressing down. England, you are giving me grey hairs! What is one to do when you feel so utterly lost and out of place in your own time?

Has all understanding of moral conduct and humanity at its most basic level come to a grinding halt? What has happened to, not society, that term is too impersonal, but rather – people. You and I. The Postman. The milkman (remember those?). Granny Pam, the old chap in the lovely wax jacket that usually says good-morning; what has happened to us? We see these minor problems, that naturally grow and grow, and yet we do nothing. We are gutless and afraid. That is why; for we believe we can change nothing. We mean, in the grand scale, nothing. Social structure has failed and so I shall lie in an oil leak and wait for the waves to carry me off to a better place. Good luck with that. They will never come.  Mummy always told me that nobody likes a quitter.

Am I naïve for believing in change? Am I strange and threatening to you? Why, because I believe in hope? If reading books and watching films has taught me anything, it is that there is always hope. If enough people demand change, then change will come. History proves that.

If you look around, nobody in his or her right mind can possibly tell me that this is working. Every single aspect of life in the silvery shiny 21^st century is failing miserably. This is not good enough. I don’t intend to live out the rest of my days feeling that this is just the way it is and you must simply lie down and take it. What nonsense! What tosh! I look around and I see a great big fat sloppy mess of porridge where once there was a great country.  At a most basic level people do not believe anymore. There is such little kindness amongst people nowadays. Why is that? If you hold the door for a lady you stick out like a sore thumb. If somebody asks for a lighter and you say ‘Of course you can’, and smile, the person recalls in mock horror as if you are asking them to climb into bed, meet the parents and offer their life and services free of charge.

Look at America (it is rather hard not to sometimes.) A nation that is suffocated by fear and panic, where you cannot trust even your nearest and dearest. Do you want that? To walk down the street and feel terrified of everyone, even your own reflection? What a terribly tragic state of affairs. I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but that scenario is approaching faster than a swarm of wasps on a picnic.

There is but one alternative as far as I can see. It won’t stop wars. It won’t make Nick Clegg any less of a jellyfish than he already is, and it certainly won’t stop the badgers from being culled, but it could stop the uncontrollable plummet in its tracks.

The cure? The complete abolishment of this heavy cloud of cynicism that hangs like smog over the once green and pleasant lands of Shakespeare, Wordsworth and Austen. No placards and protests, but rather a conscious effort to approach our world with optimism on a day-by-day basis. Change can only come with a different mind-set, because, lets face it, being a cynical bunch of twerps has only landed us in a right old mess. If it doesn’t work, then hang me on the gallows, but it has to be worth a shot, surely?

You may (or may not) be wondering what incident lit the fuse that led to this spiel of thought. No one particular event, but rather the culmination of endless days of exhaustion as a result of seeing my closest friends and family trodden on like acorns, crushing under foot. The harsh realities of human cruelty resulting in a friend developing a split personality disorder at the hands of an abusive lover, or an adult female returning home in tears because the world we know simply requires too much of her. There are many more tales I’ve not the heart to recount.

Do what the Pythons do. Look on the bright side. It could well be that breath of fresh air we all so desire.