The Ikon Gallery in Birmingham is a depressingly publicly funded, waste of time, that bored rich people wander in to when they want to look at utter nonsense, and pretend it means something.
Here are a list of art exhibitions, that if I had no morals and wanted to sponge off taxpayers, I would set up:
- Painting titled “Better left unseen”, based on a brutally honest, horrific rotten.com or ogrish image. Hang on wall facing inwards and let the visitors/impish children turn it over if they dare.
- Art exhibition of doodles, every workplace or school has a doodler, so put out a general call for submissions and wait for the art to flood in. Scan them all and display them using iPads, because these sorts of places just love excuses to piss away your money on iPads.
- Set up one of those yellow “Warning wet floor” signs, and actually have the floor wet. This will confuse the fuck out of everyone, because in their entire life they will never have associated this sign with a floor that is actually wet. Post-modernist commentary on the excessive abuse of warning signs leading to their ineffectiveness, by pussies worried about being sued by bottom feeders.
- Photoshops of bald heads on celebrities known to wear wigs. Guaranteed to get published by The Daily Fail as a nice promo piece too.
“Play makes it possible” – no, play actually makes it less likely.
The filthy hope machine that is the UK Lottery acts as if it is some benevolent dream maker, whilst secretly manically cackling at the millions of mathematically illiterate losers every week feeding it.
£7,275,200,000 was foolishly flushed away in 2014/2015. £3,915,200,000 was begrudgingly coughed up in winnings by a dodgy old man handing over pound notes very slowly hoping you will get bored and leave when you have enough for a Chinese takeaway. A return rate of 54% – I can’t think of another form of gambling worse than that. Maybe Russian Roulette with 3 bullets in the chamber. If you play the lottery, try that instead.
Look at those people in the picture, all smiling whilst they jump into a swimming pool somewhere sunny. Maybe they are on holiday? How to buy a holiday like this for yourself:
- Don’t shit away £4 a week on lottery tickets or junkie like instant gratification scratchcards that you look fucking pitiful buying, barely waiting until you are out of the shop before realising you lost again. Put that money in a large jar instead.
- Wait 10 years.
- Your jar now contains 52 weeks * 10 years * £4 * 46% loss rate, so roughly £950 you have not jizzed away. An average save of almost £2 a week from not wasting your time on the ridiculous idea that this is good way to fix your life and make you happy.
- With that £950 you saved, maybe more, because the world hates you and you never win anything, even though you did win £10 a few years ago, jet off for a week somewhere sunny. Wasn’t that hard was it? What did you really have to do? Not play the lottery.
Numbers racket bookkeeping
Religions have a history of trying to keep the agonies of marriage between a man and a woman through legislation. This isn’t just a selfless act of kindness you may expect from organisations that regularly convince their poor, stupid members that tithing to them is a great idea.
Most married people will denote their status with a ring, necklace or the dead eyes of a crushed soul, yearning for freedom.
So when the religious priests go out on the pull, to gay nightclubs, pub car parks, airline cabin crew training courses etc. they can look for the rings and steer clear of the breeders who are not worth talking to.
If the gays (or to use the correct term, “the gayers”) were allowed to marry, those religious types would have a harder time to identify cuddle buddies, and probably just head for the first person under 12 they saw instead.
National Express West Midlands, in addition to the error of creating a bespoke Swift card system instead of using standard contactless cards, entertain the crowds by pushing XML live that they haven’t tested on a local browser. Computer says “I’ll do my best!”.
This post apocalyptic looking traffic light panel (don’t worry, it’s just what Halesowen looks like) needs a cancel button.
Stand by traffic lights, grimacing at the fumes and noise.
Press the magic button, multiple times, because you don’t trust the feedback given.
See a gap in the traffic, peg it across the road, inwardly congratulate yourself on saving 30 seconds of your life you can spend surfing reddit later.
Shamefully glancing behind you, watch as the lights turn red and all the cars obediently stop, even though no one now actually wants to cross.
Wish there was a cancel button you could have pressed when you got to the other side so that the 5 cars now waiting could have spent 30 seconds extra surfing reddit when they got home.
Now admittedly, there are probably a few more scenarios here to consider, but since the morning rush hour lasts approximately until the afternoon rush hour, every piece of optimisation is useful.