Living life in the fast lane

Some of you will have noticed recent blog posts openly exhibiting a greater level of anger and hostility towards life. This is a symbol of me continuing to come out of my shell and make the transition from boy to man. The picture below was taken last weekend and many in the media have claimed it is an accurate depiction of the tough guy image I am gradually learning to accept, and even embrace.

Now, what I am going to do is talk you through the photograph, much like a teacher will talk students through a work of art. The keen eye will notice the sunglasses… large and gold with a highly reflective surface, generally the type that mavericks and rogue cops wear. Notice they are complemented by a silver watch. Silver and gold on a man is a show of manhood, as is driving at the extreme speed shown in the photograph. By combining speed and bling, the boy openly flaunts his strength. You will also notice the nonchalantly aggressive expression on the boys face, refusing to acknowledge the camera despite his obvious awareness of it, symbolising his cool attitude and mental strength in not getting distracted by the critics. Finally, you will notice the boys fist and middle finger being raised, most likely directed at society, symbolising the boys unwillingness to conform to the ostensible nature of its conventions.

Rather predictably, the media critics have questioned the masculinity of the boy… *stop talking in third person*… sorry, of me, by highlighting the fact this shot was taken while driving a small, light blue, feminine hatchback. Further to this, it was revealed that whenever I tried step things up a notch by changing from fourth gear into fifth, I accidentally went back into third and stalled on the busy highway, offering sorry waves to the surrounding motorists as I rode the clutch in tears.

Sadly, the last paragraph is true (apart from the tears). To these critics I simply say, look at the photo my friends, look at the photo. Thanks everyone xxx

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Being A Maverick: Step By Step Guide

Step1: A sign is placed to prevent people taking the fan without permission...

Step 2: A maverick observes the sign, surveys the area, casually amends the request, and slides away...

Step 3: Baffled crowds soon gather around the sign, shaking their heads in amazement.. ‘He’s done it again. Oh mysterious maverick, who are you? Oh, how I yearn for thee’.

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I’ve just taken it all to another level

Our studio has a Spotify account where staff are encouraged to add their favourite tracks to the play list which is set to random. The comedic genius saw this as an opportunity to yet again mess with the system. I have incrementally been adding songs of a questionable nature to the play list.. genres such as Spoken Word, Krishna and the occasional relaxation track lasting 57 minutes. Classic tracks such as Kanadau Vitthalu, Islamia School Kids: I look, I see, La Tigresa and The Tongues of Flame, Naked Sacred Spoken Word, Krishna Das: Pilgrim Heart, or the Death Metal classic 666 Voices Inside by Dark Funeral (I could listen to this one all day). It has been a great experiment thus far, the studio sounding like the set of a Bollywood film one hour, a meditation clinic the next, before seamlessly switching to a devil worshipping cult chanting cries of death. Clients love it. Most people found it funny though one guy got pissed off and sent an email warning people not to upload silly tracks before singling me out as a suspect. This is yet another example of my devotion to being hardcore, of my refusal to conform, my ongoing desire to mess with the system. I don’t just question the establishment, I redefine it. I find loopholes in the rules and exploit them to make my point. Please don’t try and stop me, just observe and take notes.

It didn’t take long for everyone else to assume who it was and subsequently ban me from Spotify. This is a gross injustice on my part, I will continue to protest my innocence. I am a political prisoner in my own work home, or something. What? Never mind.

Thanks everyone xxx

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The comedic genious, sorry… genius, strikes again

At school they would call me the little maverick, because I couldn’t be tamed. Now they just call me the little fuckwit. Anyway, in true irreverent Banksy, ‘fuck the system’ style, I brazenly defaced this sign at work last week, photographed it, and posted it onto my blog. My balls are bigger than yours.

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