A pseudo-royal progress

Sky News (of course, who else, given their fascist proprietor) are broadcasting wall-to-wall coverage of Johnson's impending enthronement. The UK is completely fucked, the racist, xenophobia sheeple, who thought they were so clever to thumb their noses at the 'elites', sleepwalking into disaster without a whimper. Goodbye NHS, it was nice to know you. But never mind, the 1% will be absolutely fine, laughing all the way to the (tax haven's) bank. How long before the inevitable scapegoats will be publicly lynched to appease the mob? 'Hang the paedos', as the bumper sticker I saw said in London a couple years or so ago.  Hopefully my health will give out before that happens, but knowing my luck, I'll be just well enough to be killed slowly and painfully.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Heartsick

It's been one of those days. It began with a picture online of a boy who - very vaguely - resembled my cousin, my darling boy, the person who I would've sold my soul for in a heartbeat, at time he was at the pinnacle of his beauty. Then, completely randomly, when I was meandering around my new(ish) area, I got to thinking about Cammy, who's now in the last week of his first year as a senior school pupil. Why couldn't he be my pal, not my lover, he was far too young for that, even now, but it could have happened, if the stars aligned. Instead, I've got nothing and no-one.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Trivial

I've just had a sort of an epiphany. I was in the toilet of the pub the closest to being my 'local', albeit that moniker is vague at best, and I was fretting about the fact that I needed a haircut. But then it occurred to me that no-one cares, least of all myself. My life, such as it is, is completely trivial. If I dropped dead right now, the world and all its inhabitants wouldn't care a damn. I've thought about 'formally' abolishing the blog for a while now, but, again, would it matter? Not in this life, I suspect.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B