STONE COLD HAVEN

Every so often, life reminds you how cynical and ruthless it can be. It’s the old adage – “In life, you either get fucked or your doing the fucking”. Stone cold advice doesn’t come as succinct as that. But before I indulge, I think it’s worth clarifying that (as nearly suggested by a couple of Stone Cold readers) my hiatus up in here was clearly not a result of me committing suicide after Man United bitch slapped the hell out of my beloved Arsenal that fateful Tuesday evening in early May at Ashburton Grove.

Alfonse Omosh clearly took this losing to Manure thing to the next level and as much as I advocate the passionate and fanatical support of my beloved Arsenal, committing suicide because of losing a football match tests the boundaries of stupidity of the highest order and ranks right up there with the best candidates for the world famous Darwin Awards – which recognize those who provide a great service to humanity and the survival of our species by eliminating themselves from the human gene pool through their sheer stupidity…but I digress!

I’ve been spending a lot of time recently getting intimately reacquainted with the bunch of punks claiming to provide an essential banking service to my business. You see, my bank has this amazing habit of switching business bank managers more frequently than the number of times most middle aged men get blowjobs in any given calendar year.

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I can think of any number of women I know who will scream “It’s about bloody time” when you confidently tell them that this time – the male contraceptive that is proving to be as good as the pill in preventing pregnancy is just round the corner – literally.

There’s been a number of hoaxes and false starts over the years, but scientists are apparently confident (like a scientist will ever admit that their experiment or project is a waste of space and doomed for failure) that within 5 years, the male contraceptive jab that they have been testing will be ready to give women a break from the responsibility of taking care of birth control.

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As a young girl, ask any seasoned mother for advice about boys and heartbreaks, and she’ll tell you with a tint of reflective self regret – “Avoid the pretty boys”. Now, I’m not advocating here for the paid up, card carrying members of the “Girl’s ignore me coz’ I’m ugly society”, but it’s a well known factor that pretty boys break hearts. Besides, its contestable too that pretty girls are made of angelic character(*he says waving a white handkerchief to some known usual suspects*), though it’s not arguable that folks are short changed all round based on looks.

Apparently, it’s now understood that adulterers are more likely to be driving flashy and expensive cars, and just like the pretty boys, they break hearts as those who hustle with good old fashioned bangers like Fords and Nissans feel just as short changed as ugly folks when it comes to pulling skirt.

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