Monday, 7 November 2011


Yes, that's my number ...

Every time I've looked at BBC's t'Interweb top ten read articles, this bit of news has been hovering around ... the 7 billionth baby was about to be born. Chuff me! The world population has more than doubled since I made an early appearance thanks to a jumping jack and a heavily pregnant woman ... er, jumping.

How did we become so many? Hmm, They'll tell us it's the developing worlds ... er, developing. But ignore them, it's mostly because they keep trying to make us live longer. They tell us what to eat, what not to drink, how much exercise to have, blah, blah, blah. And when we've complied with that, they moan that we're too numerous.

Some complete prats are now experimenting [possibly at my expense] on how to make us live longer - er, what for? So we can all be looked after in an old peoples home - not on your nelly, I'm not going into that sort of accommodation without recourse to lots of gadgets, broadband, and a means to complain about anything and everything to social services via the internet.

My, my, now I think about it logically, I'm almost looking forward to being a disgruntled old lady in a residential prison, how things will have changed by then. When I'm a crumbly [with all my marbles - hopefully]. We'll not be satisfied with being shoved in front of the telly for 12 hours a day, then eating, sleeping and pooping the rest of the time.

Not a bit of it, we'll expect to take technology and social networking with us, we'll be able to tell the world at large if anyone mistreats us, and if we're not heard from within a certain time-frame, alarm bells will ring ...

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Be nice, I'm very sensitive.