My drunken, grumpy alter-ego Night Bus Girl decided to send me an email late last night. Obviously with the idea in mind of posting it when I was more able. It may have taken me longer to correct the spelling than it did to write it in the first place.
I have a huge bag of sweeties and Katie Perry on the old ipod. Never mind that I am sitting next to a very smelly student with acne, I can survive as long as he doesn't breathe on me.
My day has been nothing but anger and frustration, topped off by idiots who have never entered the real world, let alone worked in it.
The youth wing of the Conservative Party suffers from the same illness as any other party; individuals who have joined up not because they give a crap about the country or even defeating the other side, but because it's the 'in thing' to do in their social group. Involvement in the party is a means to an end for many of them and it's all based around their egos. What title they can get for themselves, what names they can drop into a conversation and that all so important Facebook profile pic with a senior member of the party. Colour me unimpressed, bored and disgusted with the whole bunch.
I had listen to several of them talk earlier and throughout I had the urge to throw my glass into the fireplace with a snarl and scream “Can you all stop talking complete nonsense for just two minutes so we might be able to work out who of you are human and who of you are, in fact, horses brought in by others for a bit of mild entertainment!”
A little bit of self awareness isn't hard. It just takes looking in the mirror and realising that what looks back at you is not all that in the wider scheme of things. That just because your friends at school joked one day you'll be Prime Minister doesn't actually mean you're destined to run the country. The simply truth is – we're all arsesholes but those who get remembered are either great in the true sense of the word, or terrible, awful stains on life’s pants. Sadly so many fall into the later category but proclaim the former. My goodness, they p*ss my off!
And that's all she wrote.