Monday, 25 August 2008


a hero

Sword, nunchucks??
Gamma-ray laser taser gloves in sky blue???

“Give me back my pancreas!”- Agent X
So what’s the fucking point of heroes, no really? Don’t they just act all morally highbrow saving virtues and looking like dicks albeit better dressed dicks than us? But still dicks though, bequeathed with amour or a good seamstress. Showing us up to be A typical inept-lings while they swan in (most times un-asked) and mute whatever quite entertaining cataclysm that was descending down your road while stealing whichever apparently distressed maiden is hanging about the place.

Based on that alone, they should not be encouraged, moreover culled. Alas 21st century heroism isn’t so slice and die. Everyone can be a sort of hero, so sit down Fatwoman and Widerman and lets get cracking.

Where’s mi realm gone?
So knights are pretty much extinct in modern day suburbia. Yet a few maddens with swords thrashing the spines out of unruly gobshites should’av been a perpetuated constant. Frankly we need them, at least for an evening’s entertainment at most a whole armored population jauntily roaming ye olde Milton Keynes shopping centres with a dire thirst for mead and freezer shop pillaging would really help our indiscernible national pride. Tescos' actually invading countries, the channel tunnel a giant crap cannon for unfettered waste xenophobia. Taking back the empire old style, with new styled boom box battalions. New Devolution, stuff labour.

So that’s not for you? Too weighty and you prefer wine and molestation. In honesty knights weren’t that fun. All they preportly used to do was sit around cylindrical tables, slavishly serving some despot and getting hurt, a lot. Alright they were respected but if you got hot oil burns and a face like a pummeled shit chute you ain’t gonna be too happy a hero.

I’ll be back; I’m doin a sequel
So what, do you follow dustcarts cos you think they’re weddings? You could be an Action Hero or, a fool. So either way, get stupid steroid bolstered up and start applying at MI5’s equal opportunities dept. To one day be missioned out into an apocalyptic doom-a-thon with only a knife your dear ol’ Mum entrusted in you to “kill those commies.” Iran could seem rather formidable. As long as you keep throwing brain cells to the wind, lose much of your clothing, effortlessly volt around shouting puns to foreigners while nuking sons of guns terror-shits. You’ll be just fine.

KaaboooooooomM! ! Payback explosion with only a slither of camouflage decency left you grapple-hook the chopper as it whirls up from blood sand. Your airbrushed damsel tongues your coolest of cuts and un-inhibiting bone breaks that are the only memories left of that “hell.” The pain will go, no scars, they got those modern plastic skin healing plasters you can’t even get from Boots.

It’s a bit B A Barakas crackus over the head with one of your big gold chains n tell me not to go on those planes? Huh?

Didn’t understand the question, you need a…

Our other modern bountiful incarnations of heroes have been the aptly titled Super Heroes. Cos being simply ‘heroes’ isn’t enough. It’s that rationale of owning super powers n not using them in a perverted human way is really why they are heroes.

Super heroes don’t half-inch a case of wine with super speed. Spend evenings invisibly going door to door watching couples fuck, no sir re. Win a carny's entire collection of oversized tiger toys on that hammer strength game. Na, their powers are for good, hm. They battle with their demons but still good wins, hmmm.

Take Captain Planet aka day-glo Pat Sharp with his, “gonna take pollution down to zero” mantra. In real terms he’ll save dirt before you. Or Alex Mack, a high school GIRL who after an accidental radioactive contamination can turn into animated metallic liquid to get into, err pee holes and cracks? Watch out, she has lightening bolt fingers and is a 12 year old girl.

And we, the viewers continue to wince as they save a bunch of ungrateful New Yowkers while a large pile of back street class A drugs is being casually ignored.

But you don’t have those powers, so fantasy fuck that.

Big sandals or clean tea towels? Both.
Hero heroes. You’ve all got about two, maybe now three in your head, those heroes. The injustice heroes that spend years and years in jail. The ones that devote a lifetime campaigning to change something and get killed or die and nothing has really altered that much, yep all those. These are our bread and butter heroes. Some great that get remembered: Martin Luther, Nelson Mandela, Gandhi, Hunter S Thompson. Some others that get forgotten: King Norton, Long Distance Clara, Chaka Deemus AND Pliers and Mr Majeeka. We need to remember.

She was such a character
Then we come to our last sort. Everyday heroes. Calendar news does a special on them every so often. Now I don’t want to cheapen his or her achievements but everyone can get to be an everyday hero.
Here’s how…
  • Find a sunshine bus of specials and adopt them for a while.
  • Dig a couple of pensioners’ rockeries.
  • Be really old; wander outside a lot talking complete gibberish; while attacking "the youths of today."
  • Have a kid with an overly prolonged wasting disease and take him places you wanna go to.
  • Acquire tons of feral cats and make them all personalised bowls.
  • Save a neglected (cos it’s shit) pond from being rightfully built on.
  • Do the same vile job since you were old enough to work till beyond retirement for no apparent reason.
  • Give your pitifully amassed savings to a local monument that even now you still have to pay to visit.

Embarrassment is kinda the key, you have to appear, not stupid, selfless with a servitual manner, like you’re a machine for everyone else, and your life isn’t yours. And that makes you a respected hero? And that makes you a respected hero.

No luck
If by now you still haven’t found a suitable hero, good, I lied. There’s another hero. This hero is the person who when needed is there, who protects his soul and trueness. Who saves the day in a small way. They talk and help when required. Yep this hero is everyone who wants to be one. And they only wear a cape when being a bit Goth. There’s no quest, no mission, no dragons unless you’re reading this limply sprawled over a dog-eared newspaper with a belt not being worn in a traditional sense.

In that case, lets get crack in.

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