Who knows where the sidewalk ends.
Are you boycotting the Olympics? You are? You complete twat. Take a look around your house, how much stuff have you got that was made in China? Of the stuff that wasn’t, how much of it was made from Chinese raw materials? A fuck load that’s how much. I can’t fucking abide bandwagon jumping; try picking a cause that isn’t popular. What about marching for the rights of paedophiles? Or against the mistreatment of crazed Muslim suicide bombers? Write to your MP and complain that there just aren’t enough Burberry-wearing single mothers to consume all the putrid shite that Greggs makes on a daily basis, something must be done.
Please don’t say “but Simon, what about the human rights?” It hasn’t bothered anyone before; I have never heard anyone wandering about in Primark or Matalan complaining that the prices are too low, and that manufacturers should pay their sweatshop kiddies more money to combat the unbearable nature of their lives. No, you buy your £5 suit and think no more about it. You see, underneath all the false concern we secretly don’t give a flying monkey’s cock whether someone 12,000 miles away is hungry, because as long as someone else is hungry, we aren’t. Economics is shit, but it’s the truth.
Evolutionarily speaking we are a social animal, but we aren’t that social. Beyond our family groups we actively try to kill and maim anyone who may affect our chances of survival. So, asking us to be vaguely fucking bothered is a waste of time. It’s fashionable to care, but deep down inside we don’t, so watch the Olympics and marvel at the spectacle, if you can see it through the smog.