It's not just the fucking house that’s on fire, the garage is on fire, the garden shed is on fire, the fucking Wendy house you got in Argos is on fire. The telly is on fire. That's if you're unlucky enough to find yourself in a house you just finished paying the mortgage for, and it is on fire. 

You could be locked in a one bedroom flat with your partner and three kids on the twentieth floor in a tower block, on fire. You could be trapped inside a nylon sleeping bag on top of a bed of free newspapers under a bridge, on fire. The dole office caught fire just after Aldi did. And even the fucking fire stations are on fire. 

Ya cuppa’s on fire, loser. 

Wake up people! No time to wake people up with blowjobs. Shake them hard, slap them hard in the face if necessary, until they get the fuck up, then jump out the window. 

Run, walk… limp. 

Outside, the school is in flames, the playground is on fire. The church is on fire, and the mosque and the synagogue and the offie and the Costa are on fire. The whole fucking town is on fire. So is the Bank of England, and Number 10. So is Buckingham Palace. And Arsenal stadium. And Millwall’s. Big Ben is like a giant olympic torch. And after all this waiting, you finally get to see the Thames: a proper river of fire. … And Brexit is on fire, and the NHS, and the EU, UN, USA, RAF and FIFA. And America, and Africa. Australia (again!) are on fire. Ibiza and Magaluf:  on fire. 

(Davos is on fire and nobody gives a fuck because everyone else is on fire.)

Blacks are on fire, whites are on fire. And asians, queers, golfers and artists; people in wheelchairs are on fire. Hippies are on fire, and pregnant people and nazis and bankers and vloggers are on fire. Nurses and doctors are on fire. In labs, scientists in blue flames shout “we told you so” as they burn. All the people and every single living thing is on fire: the lambs, the goldfish, your dog, your cat, the bees and the flowers. The rats are on fire. Even the fucking penguin chicks are on fire, leaving black skid marks on the snow when they run in flames to reach the water. The sea is on fire.  

Get it? The World is on fire.

And the space tourists at the International Space Station with the proper astronaut people; open-mouthed watching all this awesome, amazing-looking orange and pink ball of fire; taking all their pills left like popcorn; glugging Russian vodka say: "WE ARE, LIKE, SO BEYOND FUCKED, WE ARE. TOTALLY, UTTERLY FUCKED-UP; FUCKED. WE MAY AS WELL FUCK; FOR FUCK'S SAKE LET'S FUCK."


But, the truth is, people, people are not asleep. Faces glued to their screens, some drunk, most high on prescription drugs, some so fucking miserable they can't get out of bed. Nothing to get up for. And that's just the kids. 

That's the picture. That’s next. Why?

Politicians' pants are also on fire. They lie to you, they lie to me, to us. They lie to their country, They lie to themselves. That's why. 

So who's shit is this? Yours. Ours. You put them there. We all did. 





Take responsibility, do something about it, and save your arse and your childrens’ arses, and their kid's arses, and the fucking penguins’ arses as a side.