I was going to to be dramatic and write

By the time you read this I will be dead

Which is obviously wrong as I am currently writing this puerile shit

I had now reached middle age (aka the suicide years )

You read about it often in the papers MA guys going missing

Only to be found floating in a river or rotting in a lay by

The Hunter Gatherer is no more the MA guy is a spent force

I was a country lad born and bred and do not remember this

Happening that often in those far off halcyon days

True the odd farmer would put a shotgun into his mouth

And send his brains spinning into the next county

But then most farmers are strange hysterical creatures

Prone to melancholy and other sadnesses of the mind

Typically if a yokel went missing then one would find him

Either between the thighs of a local slag or drunk in a haystack

But today everything is more malignant as good men just vanish

On the surface little is wrong but under that surface much is wrong

It is not just the lonely men or the saddos who haunt the streets and pubs

A suicide could just as easily be a CEO or a good man late of a scrapheap

He leaves his wife for a young piece of cunt but she kicks him out

And when he returns to his wife she does the same thing

He finds sympathy in the bottle and loses his grip with reality

Sometimes this man ends up on the streets hungry and cold

Sometimes in a solitary room in an anonymous town or city

And then it happens they tire of their putrid existence

I have simplified this greatly as there are many causes

It once happened to me and I decided to jump under a train

But being a total cunt I chose the day when the comrades were striking

I considered a high cliff but I chickened out as I suffer from height sickness

My next thought was suicide by pigs but ****** ****** was out of the country

And to be honest I do not think that they would have cared if I had shot the cunt

I became bored of the idea of suicide as I did not consider it chic or fashionable

So I decide to get a grip and have a shit and a shave

Before going out and and beating the crap out of those who offended me

I then went to HMV in Oxford Street to buy a two disc DVD

With the birthday money that my little sister had sent me

I chose my favourite movie Death Wish with Charles Bronson as Paul Kersey

And after the take away arrived I spent a great deal of time with the vigilante

As he rampaged around NYC blowing away niggers and other creatures

It was strange but I felt much much better I was happy again really happy

So I purchased a pretty dress and a powerful gun and began to find others

Who like me who favoured wearing dresses and ended their filthy perverted lives

And after I had made Laura Ashley very unfashionable I began to kill faggots

What fun I was having as I am neither a pervert or a queer

I am just a normal guy who likes football and watching dykes fucking

The Daily Mail even ran an article about me and I was rated

With a 91% approval rating which was a satisfying response

As it told me that Joe Public hated the approved infestation

Of faggots niggers and the peads who dressed as women

I was although completely nuts executing a public service

And then it all ended when after killing another chick with a dick

I was shot in the leg by a another chap wearing a dress similar to mine

I returned fire and killed it/him/her and later found out

That I had actually killed the famous serial killer of serial killers

And then things turned very strange as after confessing

To being a very bad boy I was hidden away in a private hospital

To recover from my wound which although it fucking hurt

Was pretty harmless as the other serial killer was a rotten shot

I was not arrested as the state saw a use for me as although

I was a loose cannon middle aged and a little depressed

I was highly intelligent and very organised and would not have

Been caught if I had not run into the SKOSK in that dark alley

I was told that I would be free to go on my way if I committed

Another assassination this time of a politician much hated by decent people

****** ****** was the intended target which made me very happy

On the day of the assassination due to an admin error his protection

Would not be show up and it was my job to terminate this filthy cunt

After that and as long as as I was a good boy and did not kill again

I would be able to return to my job as an architect in the City

This seemed a good deal especially as I was fully recovered

Architects are are strange but happy creatures



Joe