Goodwill is an odd term. It's something we're supposed to have for all men and dogs. Around Christmas Dickensian people wander around muttering 'goodwill' to each other, whilst beating the cold out of their chests with their fists. They even make mediocre people 'goodwill ambassadors' these days. Their duties involve giving poorly written speeches saying how nice we should be to each other before they go back to their hotel rooms to score some coke and cock.
So what is goodwill? For me it should involve a warm glow, a happy, clueless, Ian Broudie-esque smug mood that you have when you're on holiday or in love. It's that warm anticipation in your body when you're attending some amazing event such as a Kylie Minogue concert or a Jimmy Carr burial. It's a big chorus of an ELO record, the theme to Starman but there are people, evil souls out there who want to ruin this goodwill for the rest of us. These blood sucking fuckers will use your goodwill to make you guilty, to extort money from you and drain the frivolous five minutes of love from your heart. It'll leave you slumped on the pavement wonderign where all your money and goodwill went. Here's some soul destroying examples:
Concerts.
You will be charged gob smacking prices for programmes and crappy merchandise, weak, cheap, warm beer by the venue. Yes, they have to make a living. I can accept that. No, they don't have to take the piss. This will have you reeling long after the thugs outside, the bootleggers and touts aggressively scream at you to give them money. One guy at a concert I went to years ago was cold heartedly selling those crappy luminous glow sticks. I've still no idea what the point of them are, no more than the shit toys street sellers try and push to the kids. Even though this guy had sold his last one he thrust his hand open under my nose and demanded 'Gimme some change, man!' Of course you'd well be within your rights to knife the Mos Side faced bastard in the throat in any other time for attempting to mug you, but no, not tonight, not when you have goodwill. Enough arseholes will be quite happy to pay through the nose for pieces of crap, the same hateful bastards who pay £5 on a cheap flight for beer or £4 for a bag of crisps and a bar of chocolate when the flight only actually lasts TWO FUCKING HOURS and they have already scoffed something at the airport ON TOP of breakfast.
Holiday.
Mother fucking opportunities everywhere to lick out the tourists and sell them what? Answer me this. Who the fuck in 2009, in this dimension, on this earth wants stupid fucking plastic knick-knacks, cheapo watches, bracelets, poor sun hats, poor Poundstretcher rip offs? Just leave us alone. I understand you have a living to make but don't try and make it with me. Don't. Please. Or next time I'll kick the shit out of you.
Rose sellers.
They despise us. They want a piece of your infatuation. They really couldn't give a shit if you've doped her. They want what's in your pocket. They will never stop till they get your cash. Behind their strained, tight smile, they are wishing death on you. Just ask when you see them 'Are you happy for us? Are you happy?' Tell them that you don't want a rose because you are with your sister or brother. They will get embarrassed. Good. Just look at their face. They hate you. They hate us. All of us.
Big Issue sellers.
Not all of them want to ruin our day and even if they did can you blame some of them, seeing wankers passing them, ignoring them, talking into phones, throwing half eaten sandwiches, breathing, having cosy homes to go to, the bastards? If you don't buy a magazine, even if there's nothing decent worth reading in it, if you dare not give them anything at all, you are scum. You are loathsome and worthless because you didn't have the bad fortune to keep it together, get addicted to drugs, have a nervous breakdown or through no fault of your own, end up on the streets. You callous bastards with your shopping bags and Police sunglasses.
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