The Fake Twat “Entrepreneur”

Hi, I’m “The Entrepreneur”.

I’ve escaped the “rat race”. In case you haven’t noticed, I am literally describing you as a rat.

Everytime you are unlucky enough to have to bear my arrogant presence, I will remind you of your rat like status, scouring for your measly penny pay checks.

I actually have bollocks underneath the bollocks that I talk, hence I am entitled to speak my bollocks, leaving nothing left to describe me but as a cock.

You see, I’ve read around three self help books a year. That’s a lot, for some-one who doesn’t usually read. Each of these books that I’ve pretended to read state that to be a successful entrepreneur, you have to be persistent, hardworking, dedicated and the last to give up at being a superficial twat.  I understand concepts like integrity, honesty, decency, transparency, dignity- outdated and irrelevant ideas in my view. It’s a wolf eat sheep out there- and I live by that motto of praying on the weak. I don’t care if its an old granny with dementia and her only income that she has in her pocket she needs to buy her bread for the evening, it’s her own stupidity that left her in the rat race and if I need to take her money I will do. This is capitalism old friend, not for the faint hearted, or for any-one with any heart for that matter.

Did I mention to you my business? It’s going really well. I basically sit at home and do fuck all, live off my deceased father’s wealth and sell some shit on eBay occasionally. I’m going on holiday for six months, which I call “travelling to find myself”. I also watch Ted Talks, motivational speeches on Youtube and lately, I’ve invested in Bitcoin. Have you invested in Bitcoin? I’m happy to advise you for no charge at the next dinner party that we meet at, where you will talk of education, austerity cuts, public health and science and I’ll just talk about Bitcoin. You won’t miss me – I’ll be wearing the white suit that my fiancee picked out for me, as she too holds the entrepreneurial spirit of being with me for my perceived wealth, of which, when she finds out is nothing, will dump me like a bag of groceries that I’ll end up stacking on the shelf once shit hits the fan and she tells me to grow up, stop living with mummy and daddy and get a mortgage, and threatens to leave me if I don’t.

The truth is too difficult to handle, which is that I am just an ordinary being. Yet, I harbour fantasies of success, wealth and power, of which it is unlikely on my current trajectory that I’ll ever obtain. I hope that I do, for I find the qualities of vulnerability and dependance that I have so unbearable that I’ve split them off and projected them onto you people and labelled you as “rats”. I hold envy for not being able to enjoy the connectedness of being a part of a community that I can serve and gain pleasure from, instead choosing to follow a law of attraction/rich dad, poor dad dream unsuccessfully, leaving me snarking alone from a distance at your reliance on one another and claiming you are all “sheep”. My world is that of materialism and fakeness which includes my relationships with others, which exists only superficially from our understanding of each others self proclaimed statuses and nothing more- we see each other as falsely as we see ourselves. Whilst I hold this fantasy of success, I despise those who are handed wealth from their parents, despite this being my very own upbringing. Despising myself, I will go on to despise my child’s privileges and project onto him spoiltness and greed from myself. My child will in  turn despise himself and this sad cycle will continue and so long will live my surname and my status for many generations to come. 



The Perfect Family Member


Im the “Perfect Family Member”.

A bit like “the IT guy” and the “mysterious girl“, I’m all about family as it has just about enough structure and tolerance to allow my bullshit to grow, unlike friends who can choose not to spend any more time with my bollocks.

I’m the person that will greet you with a smile as you enter the door late as I am always early. I will have made the tray of a thousand fancy sausage rolls whilst you feel guilty for actually following the hosts instructions and bringing enough food for ten people. I’m the person who will say goodbye to you with a smile as you leave the door early, whilst I stay late…and so on. You will always get a text from me, on time, on christmas, new years, anniversaries, birthdays, when you leave for holiday, when you return from holiday as if I am an automated bot set on level irritance, but nothing more.

Apart from this concoction of superficial twat behaviour,  you will literally not get an ounce of conversation of any depth from me for the next thirty years you will know me. We shall speak only of holidays, bed linen, sofas and food intolerances. That shall be all. Ask me about my fears, my relationship tribulations, my guilty feelings towards my children, why I sink into a chair the moment this family charade is over and I’ll just smile at you and ask whether you want a sausage roll. The more you push, the more high pitched my offerings will become until I sound and look like a wound up and chewed barbie doll on crack.

Expect no other conversation in between the family dos. There’s no point- I have no need to actually get to know you as a person. Do expect, however, for me to turn up on your death bed to bring some food that no-one will eat, to then bugger off ten minutes later and pat myself on the back for being the perfect family member.

Why am I like this? You can hypothesise. You can come up with one of your theories as you have with “The IT guy” and with the “Mysterious girl” and the rest of the superficial twats. But your guess, unfortunately, is as good as mine, as I yet have not allowed myself to let my mask slip around you. The one thing that is obvious is that I am lonely and tired of hiding my burdens from others in order not to sadden your life. I don’t want to bring my baggage onto the lives of others. What I need to learn is that the range of emotions we experience makes us who we are and that sharing them allows our bonds to grow into something real, rather than remaining superficial. Why not take the chance…liberate  yourself and share the real you, rather than boring us all for the next thirty years we have to see you and eat your shitty sausage rolls. 

The Mysterious Girl

Hi, I’m “The Mysterious Girl”.

You may find it surprising  to know that I’m actually the girl lucky enough to be dating “The IT Guy,” which itself sounds all very boring, bland and un mysterious.

However, please prepare yourself for the mysterious part. Whilst I’m living in a house of joint ownership with IT Guy, whilst I lived with his parents recently for an entire year waiting for him to get his fucking act together and whilst I take him to all my family do’s and so on, I refuse to marry him.

Why, I hear you ask. And that’s the question I want to hear and for which you will never get a straight answer, for there is no actual answer other than that I would like to be portrayed as mysterious.

Mysterious, for me, means different, unique, special. I’m mysterious also in terms of my social endeavours. If  you want to meet me, you’d need to book 4 months in advance, for my diary is packed. Would you like to know what it is packed with? Of course you would! But I’m not going to tell you, as it would ruin the suspense. It’s more than just spending time with my mum and dad, with my boyfriend and with my one friend named Stacey, I also have specific time for Eastenders.

I don’t watch Game of Thrones so don’t ask me about it. It’s too commonplace, too normal, too un mysterious. Along with Breaking Bad or any other mainstream show. I do, however, watch  Eastenders, which is pretty much all I do watch. Yes, it doesn’t fit in with my mysterious image, but the fact that it doesn’t makes me all the more mysterious though doesn’t it?

I don’t cook, for  thats too commonplace. I don’t learn any other languages. I don’t have any other interests or hobbies. I don’t read or play any instruments. I laughed when my cousin told me she enjoys acting within role playing games as if it was time wasted. What do I do with my time? #Mysterious.

My mysteriousness stems from my relationship with my sister who was far more intelligent than myself growing up and thus held much of the attention of the house. She has always been more capable than me making it very difficult for me to compete with her to gain the validation I needed from my parents. Thus, the roots of the need to be different grew, to compete on a more unique level, a level of which can never be competed against due to its nature of being unknown. What frightens me most is not that I have an ordinary life, but it is that I take great comfort and solace in ordinariness and stability and that I can not do without, for the world is too frightening in its chaos. I need a life where I go to bed at 8pm every night, where I can spend my time with a few close people and where I have the IT Guy who I can depend on for everything. My mysteriousness is my shield from judgement, from expectation, from criticism and from myself recognising my fears of stepping out of my own comfort zone. 





The IT Guy


I’m “The IT Guy”,

I am not just any old IT guy. I am a boss of five other IT guys.

That means I choose to use the company funds to buy my IT guys a nespresso coffee machine. I also get to choose the location of  the once a year christmas parties, and, as I like to say repeatedly- “when the boss says he wants to go sleep and heads home early, they like it”.

And that, in a nutshell, is my life. I don’t have  much to say about my actual job as fixing computers isn’t all that interesting.

But I am interesting and I need every-one to know that I am interesting. I want you all to look at my house in awe which I pretend is in chelsea when it’s not. I want you to notice that I bring the best cheese board for christmas, that I bring the best presents to people who weren’t even expecting it and thus experience the awkward moment of having not got me anything in return. I want you to watch my parenting  skills of other peoples children to demonstrate what a poor job they are doing and how I can fix it in ten minutes. I want to shed out advice on the plumbing situations of the toilet to my elderly in-laws even though I have no idea what the fuck I’m talking about. I want you to believe that I’m the modernest, hippest, apron wearing three course cooking man. I want to demonstrate my discipline to you by not even eating the food I make because of my self diagnosed gluten intolerance. Of course, I’m too perfect to experience any symptoms when I eat gluten apart from a possible cold, but that doesn’t stop me from expecting gluten free food every-time I visit along with portraying  you to be indulgent pigs just for eating a regular diet. I boast that I once knew years ago people from “Made in Chelsea” as if that is something to boast about. I will never ask about your accomplishments, your career or your lives as it takes away the limelight from myself.

All in all, I want you to know that I’m not just the nearby IT man. I’m special. What I don’t want you to know is that I’ve spent my life struggling to develop relationships with others and have thus lived with my parents till the age of 30, until I finally managed to form a relationship with a woman. I have a relationship of providence for this woman where I am financially and intellectually superior towards her and she lacks confidence in herself, thus creating a reliance and dependance on myself and reducing the risk of her abandoning me when shit hits the fan and she realises that she’s alienated her own family by sticking up for me as they’ve all had enough of my shit, which she was too blinded by my constant need for admiration to notice. I survive longer within a family structure as people have to put up with my superficial crap for longer due to their dutiful obligations. 

I over-compensate in self discipline in other areas of my life, for example, restriction of diet, for the complete lack of control I have for my excessive, over empowering need for constant validation and admiration. 

To summarise, I’m an IT guy who’s desperate for people to like me. That doesn’t however make my behaviour of which I have no insight into excusable. It does not invalidate your frustration and anger of having to be around me. It just means that I am the stable prick that you will have to be around as you are family members of my girlfriend until I turn her against you.

Dear My Co-Dependant Mother

Dear Mother,

You know I will always love you.

You were always there for me. You had to do the job of both father and mother. You took me to school, clothed, fed, cooked…everything.

I’d be dead if it wasn’t for you, thrown on the street by father.

I wish that you stood up to him, that you told him that he was wrong. I know that was hard, probably dangerous for you. I saw when he hit you with the shoe, when I was a young boy. I don’t think I told you though. You both made up quite fast and I didn’t want to spoil it for you.

I know that you couldn’t stand up to him directly…none of us could. I wish that maybe you could have told me that he was wrong though. That way, I wouldn’t have believed that I was always wrong. It took me a long time to realise that I am not worth living, its difficult not to believe this when both your parents say you are wrong all the time, but when one disagrees with another there is hope. I wish you could have given me that hope.

But I understand and I will always love you. Please stop worrying. I’ve learnt that people worry a lot because their mind wants to distract them from some-thing else in their lives. I know how difficult it is for you to face up to what happened in our family- its easier not to think about it, I know. I do the same.

I understand that you want to pretend it all never happened. And that you are happy like that. I just want you to know that I am happy where I am now too- Im sorry for trying to make you see so much, I was just trying to help. But I will never forget all you have done for me and the struggles you faced to hold us all together- it may have been a lie, but it kept us going at least…so it was worth it.

Love you always.



Why I Avoid the Irritating “Entrepreneur”

The above video, “The Entrepreneur Life”- is a brilliant video encompassing the aspects of speaking to an “entrepreneur” which is irritating and frustrating yet it’s difficult to put a finger on exactly why.

Often, the “entrepreneur” in our lives is essentially being spiteful and rude, covered up by this vision they have of themselves in the future, which is usually grandiose and unrealistic but puts that person on a pedestal over every-one who has a job and works for an employer.

Its the whole message behind the “Rich Dad, Poor Dad” book by Robert Kiyosaki again. I read this book when I was a teenager and it is a thought provoking book. I don’t recommend buying it though- It waffles on but basically its major point can be summarised in – to be rich you must own the ladder, not work up it. 

Kiyosaki has a point- I will be never be richer than those who own a company. Yet, I and many of the billions of people who work around the world for an employer, don’t want to or have no desire whatsoever to own the company. Academics throughout the world- physicists, educators, doctors, philosophers, the brains of the future- many of them enjoy working for companies, for the company gives them the security  so that they can focus on their skills.

So, the problem I have with the 21st Century entrepreneur craze is the judgement they  hold for those of us who choose to work for some-one else, assuming we are lazy or have no balls.

The second annoyance I have with entrepreneurs is the need to monetise everything. I write this blog not to monetise, I write for the organisation of my own thoughts, as do many people who own a blog-hence I can put a picture of a cat on this post regardless of its lack of relevance, which I would not be able to do if my aim was for money. I also play the saxophone for no monetary interest. Speak to a “entrepreneur” – “why haven’t you monetised your blog?”- Because I don’t want to. 

The third and not final irritance of the entrepreneur is the need for it to be a “glamorous” entrepreneur. If, for example, I travelled to china and found a dealer of socks to give me a competitive price and then sold it on eBay or in a shop, I would not be considered to be a entrepreneur. Even if I invented the sock to be slightly different than other socks and sold it on Ebay, I probably wouldn’t belong in the club. If however, I desire a tech company, even if I have made no steps to attain a tech company for the last ten years, the mere fact that I desire such a company places me higher in the entrepreneurial glamour status system than others.

To summarise, for all those entrepreneurs out their who have made no money, are still  living off their parents and have been doing so for many years and spend their social life gloating to their friends in full time jobs about how free they feel, my advice to you is that no-one cares. Get yourself a job, a house, a car, a marriage, children and retire like the rest of us- it really isn’t that bad, you would not be a failure and you can actually focus on what interests you.