Before I begin, I would like to draw your attention to an EXTREMELY IMPORTANT WORD. Please remember it for later.
Atrocity – /əˈtrɒsətɪ/ a.tro.ci.ty (noun, countable)
1. Appalling or atrocious condition, quality, or behaviour; monstrousness.
2. Behaviour or an action that is wicked or ruthless
3. The fact or quality of being atrocious
When I find myself tuning in to the immaculately coiffed reporters of doom, gloom and celebrity gossip that are “The Newsreaders”, they often use the above word when referring to war crimes, terrorism and British weather. They are, of course, unarguably (and equally) correct in their usage of the word in all three instances. However, in doing so I can’t help but feel that they overlook the need for its continued and everyday usage, for the sad fact, ladies and gentlemen, is that I experience atrocities EVERY SINGLE DAY. I only need to step out on to a road to find my senses bombarded, beaten and bullied by tiny little atrocities, living openly like bacteria upon a vast array of breathbags, brain-morons and all-round irritating little cretins worldwide. Put quite simply, I am having a clandestine hate-affair with the whole world.
Stop reaching for that straitjacket, Mother. I realise that not all of you are going to have been immediately convinced, which is precisely the reason that I have decided to start a little (ish) project, entitled “Room 101 – A Labour of Hate”.
It would appear that the “blog” section of this site is swiftly being transformed in to a personal crusade to win a place in your hearts as your second favourite hate preacher (after Abu Hamza – he is definitely more cuddly), so I may as well go the whole hog and embrace this as a fact to be celebrated. Taking the idea of popular BBC TV series Room 101 (but with a twist), I have decided to write 101 short pieces, each addressing a new atrocity – not a “Trevor McDonald atrocity”, but one that you yourselves may encounter from day to day. Perhaps this collection of musings will serve as a warning, so that you can be ever-vigilant of the unspeakable crimes that lie a matter of feet from you – on the other side of a supermarket shelf, round the corner of a crowded street, or on Track 9 of that utterly appalling CD that you’re about to cram nonchalantly in to your pocket noise-maker. DON’T DO IT!
Or perhaps you could simply upload pictures of your own faeces-covered rear end and then use this section (or any other) of my blog as virtual, pixellated toilet paper. I would be delighted with either outcome.
Expect edition #1 of my anger-filled ranting to follow forthwith. Oh, and here is some appropriately rage-filled music, courtesy of a man who has spent his career being outwardly furious at being named after a river that flows through Nottingham: Trent Reznor.