Fuck Socialising: If you're alone, you're doing the right thing
Looking at Britain from thousands of miles away makes me realise the whole fucking country is a write off.
The entire place is suffocating under this relentless, patronising push to force everyone into a mindless herd like cheap minced meat into a casing. Every time I look at what’s going on over there, some arrogant, overpaid politician or corporate parasite is lecturing the public about the magic of community and the bloody duty of staying connected. It’s total, unadulterated bollocks designed by control freaks and tax collectors who need people lumped together in predictable little groups so they’re easier to fleece.
They want blokes squandering their hard earned cash in tacky, overpriced boozers, talking complete shit with cunts they can’t stand, all to prove they aren’t a threat to the status quo. Being on your own isn’t a mental illness, it’s the only sane fucking choice left in a world run by psychopathic suits. When you’re alone, no lying government scum is picking your pocket or trying to sell you a monthly subscription to your own life.
If you’re sitting in a quiet room with the door locked, you’re winning the game and you shouldn't feel an ounce of regret for it. Society treats a bloke who prefers his own company like a defective toaster that needs throwing on a rubbish heap, but keeping away from the herd is the best armour you’ll ever wear. Modern socialising is nothing but an intolerable parade of fake laughter, foul breath and listening to braindead middle managers drone on about their mortgage rates or their pathetic kitchen renovations. It destroys your brain cells faster than drinking paint stripper, like trying to power a diesel engine with lukewarm spit. People back in Britain are running around like terrified rats, filling every spare second with meaningless noise because they are utterly fucking terrified of their own heads. They can't sit in a quiet room for two minutes without going into a blind panic, so they drag themselves to another soulless pub or forced team building nightmare just to avoid facing reality.
The entire system is intentionally built to brand you a weirdo the moment you stop buying into their collective madness. Banks, bureaucrats and massive corporate monopolies absolutely love a needy socialite because a needy socialite is constantly spending, boasting and bleeding money out of every orifice. The second you cut yourself off from the circus, you instantly stop paying the thicko tax that keeps their pathetic infrastructure running. You don’t have to listen to a single word of political propaganda, and you don’t have to give a shit about some middle class wanker and his new patio. Most human conversation is nothing more than two idiots making random mouth sounds while they wait for their turn to bark. It’s exhausting, fake as a wooden pound coin, and turns grown men into snivelling toddlers begging for approval from a room full of absolute nobodies.
So when you’re shut away in your own house far from the chaos, tell every single one of those loudmouth bastards to get fucked. You aren’t sad or lonely, you’ve just seen through the meat grinder and decided not to jump in with the rest of the livestock. Let those miserable sods cram into their filthy, overcrowded spaces, trading viruses and brain rot while they lie to themselves about having the time of their lives. You’re sitting pretty on the outside, completely immune to their institutional sewage, watching the whole bloody sausage factory go up in flames while you enjoy the sweet perfection of absolute fucking peace.