This Week's Obsession

Some things are sent to try us, while other things are just ... well, you can finish that line, I'm having trouble finishing anything at the moment.

I don't know if having a job will make me less sensitive to everything going on around me, but this week I have really felt like I could just explode and either go on some mad killing spree or just burst a blood vessel and drop dead while raging against the injustice of fucking everything!

I've spent the last couple of days obsessing over my lack of being able to play Classic Scrabble any longer, via Facebook, because the old tried and tested variety, the one that has been played for years and for the last 6 at least on Facebook has changed; been made over; been made 'new & improved' with the emphasis on 'how much money can we make from this now?' I even put my old reporter's hat on, got in contact with the relevant parties and have been met by a wall of silence. One of the interested parties contacted me, asked me what publication I worked for, I said this was a freelance job and the article would be aimed at the UK's Saga Magazine and I heard nothing back from them either.

The sad truth is that Scrabble is predominantly played in the UK by the over 40s - a demographic that does not send shivers of expectations up the spines of anyone associated with social networking, mobile phones and portable devices. For every one of my friends with a 4G phone there's 3 who don't even know if they've got 1G let alone multiples and while the outpouring of contempt aimed at Scrabble on Facebook has been unprecedented it will ultimately amount to complaining to Tesco about Asda's prices - not a lot and they won't be interested.

If it hasn't been Scrabble it's been ATOS, the government employed health fascists who feel that most corpses are fit to work and have been told to get the figures reaped or lose the contract. Allegedly, and I really don't know how true this is (and I am a wee bit sceptical), but apparently over 10,000 people have died since ATOS were employed that can be attributed in some way to these people either having lost their benefits or just told they're fit even if they're on their last legs and just about to peg it anyhow. It's like they are unbelievably callous and evil and have decided to help the terminally ill die quicker by fucking them over financially. I have said it many times before, but how do the LibDems sleep at night?

We managed to lose the quiz last night despite dropping only 2½ points. Our main opposition - The Armenian Celebrities - who consist of two adults about my age and their son are walking encyclopaedias and usually screw up on the music round after forging ahead. Last night they managed to get 14 to our 12½ on the music, thus beating us by ½ a point and therefore only dropping 2 points for the entire quiz. It appears that instead of driving away the competition since we've moved pub quizzes, there are new teams challenging us. Last night, of the nine teams, six of them finished within 3 point of us - the competition is hotting up.

I woke up this morning (der-der-da-der) and I had a cut on the side of my nose and it felt like someone had punched me in the face. That didn't happen according to the wife and no dog jumped on my head. This is the mystery I am taking to Wellingborough this morning, as I face the shopping hell of the other Sainsburys.

There's a book review coming and I still haven't heard back from the bloke who offered me some work - more on that some other time.