Recipe for disaster: Our “leader’s” bake expensive society pie



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Recipe for disaster:
With a helping of education tax, sprinkling of pension reduction, and a generous dollop of lies and deceit here we have the perfect unjust society pie, made with staged care by your local government.
CAUTION! eating may result in poverty, and leave you with a feeling and sense of injustice.
This is a pie that no-one really wants, but we are forced to eat.
Am I the only one who thinks we are being ruled by babbling band of monkeys?
As each day passes by, I find it harder, and harder to bare the bitter taste of injustice.
Is it fair to clean up mess spilled by someone else?
So then why do we have to continually mop up the tatters of the economy that the world leaders leave behind?
In England, education has been hit hard. Some universities charge nine thousand pounds per year.
Nine thousand pounds!
Three words that just scream ‘bankrupt’
I may only be sixteen, but am I the only one who sees the disaster ahead?
Charging extortionate prices will boost the economy… for now. But what about in ten years time, when no-one has a job because the government robbed them of a degree?
I understand that it is hard to make cuts, and they have to come from somewhere…but come on!
What happened to safe guarding our futures?
It makes me think…. Do our ‘leaders’ care about our future, or just how long they can stay in charge for?
World leaders change their minds like Paris Hilton changes outfits.
Is it so hard make a decision and stick to it?
I can go crying into my food, but at least I have a choice. What about those who don’t get a say, and have the thieves cut money from their jobs?
It’s either quit, or suffer…
“Thousands will hit the streets again when they realise they were conned on the scale of cuts.”- Andrew Lansley
but can we really afford to quit?

I know, I know that running society is hard, and in consideration the leaders have done some things right, blah, blah, blah. If they want to come into power, they shouldn’t make false promises. I know I am not alone in thinking that the only reason the empty-headed fools come into power, is for the thick wage packet that comes with it.

So here we all are, chained to the table of society, being force-fed the most expensive pie we have ever had the misfortune to eat. We eat in silence, and if we speak we are ignored. Our leaders don’t care what goes into the pie, just as long as we pay the full price so they can leave us sinking in our debt; they will float leisurely around us in their brand new yachts (funded by our back pockets)
Their bad judgements have been cooking in the oven for too long; When will they wake up and smell the burning?
I don’t know about you, but I’m finding the society pie a little hard to swallow. It’s about time we spat it back in our ‘leaders’ faces, before they charge 10% more for each mouthful… like usual.


‘Harry Potter’ injustice?


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You may have heard about it in the papers- the boy who attacked two girls after they called him Harry Potter. (if you are unfamiliar with the story, feel free to visit the link below.)


One cannot deny that Ryan Walkers actions were violent and immoral, as he brutally beat and cut the faces of two teenage girls, landing him a 4 year prison sentence… but after reading the article, I couldn’t help but feel that justice had not been served.

It turns out that Ryan Walker was a victim of bullying, claiming that he had been persistently harassed by the two teenage girls throughout his school life. Before the attack, they followed him from his block of flats hurling abuse at him, saying he looked like J.K Rowling character ‘Harry Potter’. He took a knife, knowing they would follow him.
It made me question, who was the real victim?

Bullying is something which surround the society I live in, and although I hate to admit it, bullying is often ignored. Adults call it ‘childs play’, and are seemingly blind (or ignorant) to the pain and fear it brings to children.
Suicide from bullying is the third leading cause of death in adolescents and teenagers. Is this what it would take for Ryan bullies to be punished?
Perhaps for the first time, Ryan Walker defended himself, in a questionable way that probably arose from desperation… he was handed a hefty 4 year prison sentence- and the “victim” bullies?
“a scar… that will be there for years.”
What about Ryan’s scars? They aren’t visible to everyone else, but Ryan knows they’re there because he feels the knife slice him on the inside, each time the girls called him “wimp” or “Harry Potter”.
To me, this is injustice at its peak.
An article, that could have been used as a moral message to bullies, instead appears to victimise an already damaged child who has been bullied to breaking point- and then instead of repairing the damaged Ryan, they throw him in jail to be forgotten about.
What message do I receive?
Stand up to a bully and get arrested.
Be a bully and become a martyr.
Physical violence can never be condoned, and i do not deny that the experience must have been terrifying for the girls… but is physical abuse really any different to verbal abuse?
Where are Leah and Emma’s prison sentences?
They roam free, perhaps carrying on to victimise, and push others to breaking point. In the meantime, Ryan will be tryings to repair the internal damage they have inflicted upon him.
But his wounds can’t be healed with stitches.

The Colour of the Ukraine


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“Україна ще не вмерла, не має її славу або свободу,” -“Ukraine hasn’t yet died, nor has her glory or freedom,”
-The Ukrainina national anthem

Blue, Yellow –Stained with red-
The flag of today, which straggles and thrashes.
Slit our throats, and it will be silent,
the song of despair of the violence and clashes.

Blue, yellow- engulfed with black-
The flag of today, they tie around our tongues.
If breathing means change,
they’ll rip out our lungs.

Blue, Yellow- or is it Blue Red?
The flag of today, in an uncertain hour.
Blinded by ‘viktory’,
the word from a mouth so corrupted with power.

Blue, Yellow- perforated-
The flag of today, ripped open with metal.
They cast it away with our ashes,
show them a gun and a nation will settle.

Blue, Yellow- fringed with fire-
The flag of today, set alight for tomorrow.
they allow us no words.
We die or we follow.

Blue, Yellow- can you even see the colours?-
The vibrant flags of today, reflect the life that’s in our hearts.
Rip the money from your eyes,
see the goodness life imparts.

Blue, yellow. Blue, yellow

(picture from armstrongeconomics.com)


The art of procrastination


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If you’re reading this, then you are in the same sinking boat that I’m in.
You had your plan. Chip away at your mountain of work tonight, then you won’t have as much to do tomorrow.
You were determined, and happy about your aims… and then the internet found you.
What became 10 minutes has turned into an hour of looking at cute cats on tumblr, and laughing at people falling over on youtube.
You plan to return to your work and just carry on later into the night… right after you read this blog about hipsters, and watch ‘ 99 life-hacks that will change your world’ on buzz-feed.
Okay, okay… I really will start this work now.
‘Ping’- ‘Francis just messaged you on facebook’
Oh f ***!
Lets face it, no work will be done tonight! You must face the inevitability of the old ‘night-before’ essay or presentation which is barely satisfactory.
But instead of laying in bed at night, and worrying about all the work you could have done, follow my tips and feel happy about all the other less-important-but-still-kinda-relevant-awesome-stuff you did get done.
Embrace your inner procrastinator because if you’re going to waste time, then waste it in style!
Get off flappy bird!- you won’t do your work “after one more death”.
Write a novel you’ve been working on, or read a book!
Better yet, write a blog about procrastinating.
Your teacher has told you to read ‘Wuthering Heights’, and write an essay about how Bronte presents the inner feelings of the protagonists.
That can wait! It’s more important to gain a full understanding of the book first.
Watch the movie on youtube! Sure you haven’t read the book yet, but this will help you to recognise the main events when you do come to read it… the day before the exam.
And teachers! Are you over-faced by all the marking you have to do?
Just leave it! put your feet up, and watch TV. You don’t get time to yourself anyway really… apart from 2 weeks at christmas… 6 weeks in the summer… every half-term. Hardly anything really!
Besides, those essays are probably mediocre rushed pieces of rubbish that were done by the procastinating students the night before, hardly worth your time. There is a better solution… peer marking!
And to those of you who really should get working on that powerpoint for next weeks meeting- just don’t!
Live life on the edge, as you give an ‘alternative’ presentation where you stumble over waffled words that you make up on the spot, and hope it sounds sophisticated… even if it doesn’t make sense!
Calling all dog walkers, putting off the chilly decent into the twilight of the woods, with a barking fido that sneers (yes sneers!) at you as you are degraded to pick up their still steaming excrement to take to the nearest bin… which is a mile behind you.
It can wait until later! It’s better to research dog training tips, or buy a slightly used poopa-scoopa from ebay.
Sure it will be pitch black by then, and your odds of being attacked will have greatly increased… but isn’t it worth it?
You’ve learnt some new dog whistles!
And along with that poopa-scoopa, you’ve bought yourself some (slightly used) shoes, and a (good condition) book, on ‘how to use your time effectively’.
Fellow procrastinators, don’t you feel better about yourselves?
Me neither…

What vs. how

Originally posted on Cristian Mihai:

For the better part of my teenage years as a writer I’ve been obsessed with ideas. Four, five years can be easily summed up as being a quest for the million dollar idea, that brilliant one that was going to bring me success and fame and glory.

And I find that to be the mark of young, ambitious writers. They stress too much about the what part of this craft – ideas, settings, plot. They try to build a web of places and characters that’s going to awe the reader. Basically they’re trying too much.

View original 623 more words


The facts of life.


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Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
The clock is mocking me. Its lopsided face sneers as he tut, tut, tut, tuts.
His twitching mustache ticks away my seconds.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. .
I’ve been daydreaming for too long, and I’ve attracted some stares. The mechanical invigilators tie their arms around their front, and they focus their glass eyes to tell me that I need to concentrate.
Forget the ticks. They don’t matter right now.
Focus on the books.
The ones that tell you the desperate facts of life. They’ve told me before that without these facts, life isn’t worth living.
“Read. Copy. Memorise. Forget.”
The key to life is Pythagoras’ theorem. Or knowing that the Mississippi river is 3734 m long. I used to know what the structure of an atom, but I don’t remember it now. I only needed it for my last exam.
Read. Copy. Memorise. Forget.
The invigilators are tightening my shackles now, to remind me that I’m here to learn these words for the exams in 3 months. Then I’ll learn the ones after that. Then the ones after that then the ones after that.
Nothing is more important.
Memorise. Memorise. Forget. Memorise.
But its hard to remember these ‘facts of life’ because I don’t care to know them. And these shackles are so tight, that I can feel my blood stagnating in my veins.
On average the body can hold 8 pints of blood.
Blood is necessary to transport vital substances around the body.
This is done via the heart.
The heart has 2 valves… no 3… 4?
Frustration, and cold panic floods my body, and turn my veins to ice.
The mustache clock ticks out a laugh, as his mustache turns on. and on. and on. and on.
I revert to my big-book-of-everything-I- need- to- know- to- be- a-success-in-life, and open it to biology.
The heart has 4 chambers.
But what’s this?
I haven’t read this before. And its confusing me, talking of the heart in a very peculiar way.
It says that the function of the heart is to love.
And its written in a way I do not understand. It flows just like the Mississippi i know all about, but Im at odds on how to learn it, because it is not written like facts.
The category is fiction, and there’s much more beyond it. Pages and pages that I have never read before of literature, poetry…
Words that make up paragraphs that silkily talk of things which aren’t true.
I have learned that around 60 million people died in WW2
I have learned that there are around 7 billion people in the world.
I know that science explains human behavior in terms of neurotransmitters, and chemical imbalance.
What I now read leaves out the facts, and strikes a feeling within me that brings me close to the brainwashed soldier who died with no name in the war.
That potently whispers about  the poverty among others who have too much.
It talks of an outcast that science rejects, because it cannot explain him.
This section brings my facts to life. The Mississippi is not just a river anymore, but a living breathing organism that is personified to be more human than I am.
I open my mouth to the mechanical invigilators, tears springing to my eyes… because this is a section that cannot be memorised.
They rip out the section, and tighten the gag around my mouth.
‘Read. Copy. Memorise. Forget. Read. Copy. Memorise. Forget.’
They state in tired voices, which reverberate off the whitewashed walls.
But something dawns upon me, and I think that if facts are success, then success isn’t human.
I rip off my gag, but I’m still shackled to a life that needs me to Read. Copy. Memorise. Forget. Read. Copy. Memorise. Forget.
The invigilators hold me down, and try to re-gag me. Their pincers pinch my cheeks as they scream my life motto, and ultimate aim of my existence into my ears.
Read. Copy. Memorise. Forget. Read. Copy. Memorise. Forget.
I push them away, and pick up my book. The book of facts, and my life goal.
I throw it.
It breaks down the walls, and the lifeless invigilators melt into metal on the floor when the light from outside hits them.
Before the room splinters,the clock winks at me, its ticking mustache going just past the ’12′.
Then it cracks in two, with a feeble ‘toc’.
The sunlight blinds me, when the walls come down.
With all these facts, I almost forgot it existed. I remember it now, from when I was a child.
Before I turned 4, and they shackled me to an enclosed world where facts rein supreme and are shoved down our throats.
Aged people begin to surround me, all with hair white like the mudane room walls. Skin wrinkled like the pages of the’ultimate’ book . They walk- well more stumble- with an arched back, like they had spent a lifetime hunched over Reading. Copying. Memorising. Forgeting.
They hand me a mirror, but I don’t need to look to know that I am like them.
I know my life is encased in the book. The colour of the pinks, blues, and yellows my youth drained  into the whitewashed walls, and powering the cogs of the invigilators everlasting watch.
I imagine the clock, with its mustache turning, and tutting about how I should have found those pages earlier… because every page I turned, and every tock that passed ripped my life away.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The Golden Eagles (a short story)


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I am the plague which only the Eagles can obtain.
I am the hunger which can never be satisfied.
You can’t have me, but I am everywhere…

I am the greed which grips the body behind the designer business suit.
I am the loop hole which swims in the pay-day lender’s eyes, as my toxic tendrils reach out and twist the throat of the single, penniless, mother of four.
I am the poison, leaking from your leaders mouth, which smothers the corruption with propaganda pleasantries of a promise for a tomorrow that will never come.

I have existed since man needed me.
I have grown as you have grown, my plague evolving a barrier so impassable that those who created it have forgotten how to be human.
I see them soar,
those who have me.
The golden eagles.
They scour the planet from above
They circle , and inhale me in excess, picking off the dying with an irresistible deal that rips away their souls.
I am power.
And you have created me.
You have abused me.
You have twisted me.
You have distorted me into a sickly version of your own idyllic society.
You watch from your mountain, as the empty corpses give a final gasp of the life you force them to give .
And you take it.
Then you scavenge for more.

You like the view from above the clouds.
The specks below, choke on my malignant fog, stopping their futile cries of “injustice!” before the words can even enter their  throats.
The Golden Eagles sink their talons into my shoulders, with a grip that tightens the more the specks cry.
The Golden Eagles have me.
They will never. Let. Me . Go.

The back of the bus ( a short poem)


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The back of the bus, the back of the bus,
the power that lies at the back of the bus!
Alone he sits, arms crossed,
Crown placed firmly on his majestic ‘hoodie’.

The back of the bus,
the domain for the youth!
Alone he sits, earphones in,
as he blocks out the noises that mean nothing to him.

The back of the bus,
Enter if you dare!
Alone he sits, and alone he likes,
He cannot share his throne.

The back of the bus,
No elderly allowed!
Alone he sits, condescending to those at the front,
he dreads the day he will join them.

The back of the bus,
No appeal for me!
Alone he sits, ever so bored,
and all to uphold his social crown.

The back of the bus,
The king needs to leave his throne!
Alone he stands, alone he falls,
his crown and glory tumbling with him.

The back of the bus,
Its king stands and rushes!
Alone he stands, and passes his lowly ‘subjects’,
as we think back to our rule at the back of the bus

The back of the bus, the back of the bus?
The illogical sense of the back of the bus!

Bedtime conflict (A short story)


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Its 11 O’clock.
Reason sits in the comfortable solitude of the human’s brain.
“Stage 1 complete, and the vessel is prepped for sleep in T minus 7 minutes”
Reason was content, as he clicked numerous buttons on the panel before him, which sent pleasing (well reasoned) images around the human’s brain.

Homework is complete… you forgot to do the graph, but that can be done on the bus… it’s chicken taco day tomorrow.

Reason’s shift was going rather well he thought to himself, and he smiled at the possibility of leaving early. Reason would be congratulated by the central nervous system  about how well rested this human vessel was.
Yes, Reason will be well praised in the hypothalamus, that is if he could get the vessel to sleep in the next 7 minutes without any disturbances…
“T minus six minutes until the human-“
Reason was startled, and fell back from his panel, looking at the now inverted sight of panic who stormed into the control room, flapping her arms in wind milling circles.
“Panic, it’s not your shift until the exam next week!”
“Panic, I’m kinda bus-“
“Panic, I have to get this human to sleep”
Sleep!? Sleep!? How can it possibly sleep, when it has forgotten all about that project due on Friday!”
“Panic, stop panicking-“
“Mayhem! MAYHEM!”
“Panic, we’ll get it done!” Reason shouted over Panic’s piercing voice, looking in dismay that the vessel had now been stirred… but Reason was determined that he could still meet his deadline.
“We still have 2 days. We’ll make sure the vessel is well rested for tomorrow, ready to work later nights… but unfortunately, I’ll have to give you another shift late Thursday night when the human does the project last minute”
Panic seemed to calm down but still let out small shivery convulsions of the body. Reason breathed a sigh of relief, and sat back down at the panel sending soothing images of a completed project around the vessel’s brain, and how this was very possible. The content smile returned to reason, as he pictured the ‘Emotion of the month’ award that the central nervous system would present to him… he would frame it, and bring it back to his wife and-
Reason sighed, and didn’t even need to turn to know anger had arrived. Reason began to say that his shift didn’t start until the next policy the prime minister puts up, but Anger stopped him.
Reason had barely noticed Embarrassment who cowered behind Anger’s red flaming body.
“aww no! what was I thinking?” He said, slapping himself in his blushing face.
“YES, WHAT WERE YOU THINKING ?!” exclaimed anger, with tendrils of fire sparking from her hair.
Reason felt himself turning into frustration, as another 15 minutes was added onto the humans estimated sleep time.
“Excuse me!? None of you are meant to be here… now if you would be kind enough to leave, I have work to –“
“aww no!” embarrassment cried, hiding his pink face in his hands “sooo embarrassing!”
“Guy’s, you’re all waking the human up!”
“aww don’t remind me… sooo embarrassing ”
“ Is this something to panic about!?”
“sooo embarrassing!”
“EXCUSE ME!” Reason shouted (although he hates to shout) but he can barely hear himself think in this noise, and couldn’t bear to think about how alert the human would be after all this noise and negative imagery.
“DON’T RAISE YOUR VOICE TO ME!” Anger shouted, advancing on Reason. Reason ignored him, and closed his eyes and began to breathe, and find a logical solution to this catastrophe… after all, he is Reason.
“Embarrassment, those things happened weeks ago… infact that joke was two years ago”
“but still it’s soo-“
“I’m sure no-one even remembers it!” Reason reasoned leaving embarrassment still painfully groaning, but also taking a place next to the twitching Panic in relative silence.
“And Anger…”
“There’s no need to be angry at anyone… anger won’t help any situation, just calm down”
“And nothing! Go sit down and breathe… worry about being angry in the morning during maths”
Anger grumbled, steam pouring from every orifice, but still she sat down casting venomous looks in Embarrassments direction.
Reason was rushing now, as the vessels sleep delay had increased to 25 minutes… no matter, perhaps he will still be recognised for his admirable ability to cope with such… distractions. He could do it, just keep sending reasoned positive thoughts around the brain to counteract the negative ones from the unannounced emotions.
“Oh what now!?” Reason muttered, holding his pounding head in both hands.
“imagine if- if- the humans parents died. What would I do!? Wahhh”
“OH GO AWAY SADNESS, NO-ONE LIKES YOU” Anger exclaimed, to which Sadness omitted a high pitched whine.
“Sadness, there’s no point in worrying about what you can’t control” Reason stated, but Sadness still continued to cry, with eyes screwed up tight, and great big tears dripping down onto the floor
“Wah! Wah! Wah! But- but- I-I don’t want to be on my own! And what about if the human doesn’t get good grades?! Wahhhh!
“Oh heavens the exams!” Panic shrieked
“Ohh sadness, crying is sooo embarrassing” Whined Embarrassment
“YOU ALL MAKE ME SO ANGRY!” exclaimed Anger
Reason tried to speak, but no matter how loud he spoke, he would not be heard over the Ruckus of emotions.
A small yellow head was trying to jump above the noisy emotions, more exactly trying to jump over Anger, who now had Sadness in a headlock.
“Sorry I’m late!”
Sang the emerging figure, a concerned, but ultimately very happy smile on her face.
“Happiness, where were you? It’s anarchy! The vessel was meant to be asleep an hour ago, and none of these emotions will shut up”
Happiness laughed, trying to send a mesh of happy thoughts to smother the overpowering vision of negative, sad, angry, embarrassing and panic filled thoughts.
Reason was losing his patience, closing his eyes tight dreading the thought of the punishment the central nervous system will give him tomorrow.
Happiness was singing a lulling song into the crowd of confused, negative emotions, but the harmonic sounds bounced harmlessly off them.
Reason felt something in his brain crack, as he felt himself loose all power of the situation. Reason did something he had never done before- he lost his temper.
Immediately, silence smothered the room, and the emotions looks up in confusion.
“NO NEED TO GET ANGRY!” Anger proclaimed releasing sadness from her death grip.
“Don’t-shout- at- meeee. Wahh” Sadness sobbed, peeking at me through tear filled fingers
And with that they all sat down on the floor in silent unison. Reason could hardly believe that his loss of reason had worked! Better yet, he turned back to the monitor and noticed that finally, the human was about to drift off to sleep.
“T minus 1 minute” Reason said, excitement rippling in his voice. He had his finger on the huge red ‘REM sleep’ button, fresh images of finishing early entering his mind when-
Panic stood up, wind milling her arms in a circle “It’s almost 2 am, if I don’t get to sleep now, I will be way too tired for school… I’ll only get 5 hours sleep!”
“ohhh I’m gonna look soooo tired… it will be sooo embarrassing”
“Wahh! Wahh! The human gets over emotional when its hasn’t had enough sleep!”

Reason sat down, and got himself a cup of coffee… it was going to be a long night.

NaNoWriMo 2013: Want to Write a Novel?


calling all writers!

Originally posted on WordPress.com News:

It’s just a few days until November, and you know what that means: National Novel Writing Month, better known ’round these parts as NaNoWriMo, is near.

Have you always wanted to write a novel?

We know some of you have been waiting all year for this month! For those of you who are new to this project, here’s the gist:

View original 894 more words

A Clockwork Orange- My ‘horrorshow’ review.


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Many a-greetings from your humble narrator my ‘droogs’!
If you ‘viddy’ this blog, then you’ve probably read the controversial ‘ultra violent’ words that Burgess wove into the novella ‘A Clockwork Orange’; if you haven’t read it, then you probably don’t ‘pony’ any of the ‘horrorshow’ Nadsat ‘slovos’ that I am typing.
Here, I bestow upon my brothers, a translator for you ‘lewdies’ that are clearly not at the height of fashion as the rest of us ‘malchicks’ and ‘ptistas’.

‘A Clockwork Orange’ has irrevocably integrated itself into my life. It’s one of those rare books, that you can’t stop thinking about for weeks after you put it down! Many ‘nochy’s’ I have spent, my brother, picturing Burgess dystopian world as a reality; a world where the youth roam free to ‘crast’, and give a bit of the old ‘in out in out’ to unsuspecting, victimised ‘cheenas’.
And then my nightmare vision explodes after the realisation that Burgess world is not so distant from our reality.

What is more troubling brother, is that anti-hero, and  protagonist Alex’s amoral ways are the least of the ethical issues raised in the novella.
Strangely I find myself warming to Alex (even if he is a ‘malenky’ bit of a ‘brachny’). Despite the very ‘adult activities’ he commits to, Alex is still a child needing guidance. This is highlighted through the constant references to the old ‘moloko’ symbolic of infancy and childhood. This may be young boy who rapes, steals, and kills, but I believe his ways are almost overshadowed by my favourite thing to hate… society.
Freedom is not something which society truly offers, both in Alex’s world and our very own. ‘A Clockwork Orange’ attempts to higlight the ‘illusion’ of freedom and freewill in a society which only gives us one option.
The option of goodness.
Society does not tolerate evil, and negative behaviour so does not higlight it as an option to take.
But where is freedom when there is no choice my droogs?
In the novella, Alex is conditioned to such an extent that he is riddled with sickness whenever even thinking about doing the old ‘Ultra-violence’; consequently the lack of choice and inability to do anything but good means that he cannot display any emotion, or even listen to classical music (the only thing Alex truly loves) as it stirs the ‘evil’ feelings within him, and gives him the old sickness.
Alex’s force to be good, takes away the very essence of goodness; doing something because it is understood to be right, not because we have to.

Even more troubling was when I no longer needed the Nadsat dictionary to understand Alex’s slang. I felt I had become a part of this not-to-distant society which has the power for total control over everyone… Sure crime will be reduced, but what is life without freedom? We’ve all read/seen 1984, and can see that total control = utter misery… no-one needs all that ‘cal’!

I accept that I won’t be getting a good ‘notchy’s’ sleep for as long as the disturbing moral messages of ‘A Clockwork Orange’ plagues my mind… these ‘slovos’ i type are just a handful of the questions that penetrate and alarm my brain. This being said, ‘A Clockwork Orange’ is one of my favourite books, and I am glad that I found this ‘horrorshow’ piece of fiction.
Alex and his ‘droogs’ along with every other ‘lewdie’ in the book (no matter how repulsive!) have mainly taught me how not to live! But also how to recognise that you and me, your humble narrator, (that is curly) are as beautiful and full of life as an orange; a beauty which cannot be wound up, and controlled like clockwork until our freewill means nothing… and all that ‘cal’


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