NaySayers

March 23, 2018 at 3:59 am | Posted in Article | 2 Comments
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

3358094867_382a7c49e9_z

What could possibly go wrong.

Think you’re hot shit? You may be half right. Better to learn the awful truth from a pair of inveterate washouts than fall flat on your face before family and friends.

Especially if you owe them money.

We’re not your friends. As abject failures, we desperately want you to f*ck up too. But that doesn’t mean we’ll skimp on our dire advice.

You see, there’s only one thing more fun than watching shiny happy people crash and burn. And that’s watching them do so after failing to heed our strident warnings.

That calls for a special celebration. Which is why we turn every slimy stone to give you all the help you need (and ideally ignore).

Give your yang a yink.

For $444, we’ll examine your book idea, brand name, business venture, product design, capital acquisition project or other stupid, middle-aged thought bubble and list everything we can imagine that could go wrong.

Forewarned is forearmed. So, by having these obstacles and pitfalls flagged in advance, you won’t come a cropper at your most embarrassing moment.

And if you do happen to succeed, vengeance shall be thine. You can rub our sorry faces in the muck we chucked and force us to choke on our miserable words.

At which time, we’ll doff our shapeless, unfashionable caps, let you buy us lunch and say: well played!

Which part of NO don’t you understand?

If you’re surrounded by witless friends, vested toadies and grasping kin, who on Satan’s blasted Earth will ever tell you the truth about your latest folly?

We’ve wasted two lifetimes screwing up everything that moves, so we know all the angles.

Don’t blow four grand on a fart-catching business analyst to tell Brilliant You what you already know.

Use our bleak, narrow, expert assessment to drill down to the cracked Vegemite of boundless agony few souls can conceive, let alone discern.

Hello darkness! (Your new friend.)

Failure. It’s in our blood. Who better to spot it than two long-term depressives with PTSD and acute anxiety?

You go through life like everything’s fine. Thanks to our respective child abuse incidents, we leap at the squeak of a soft toy and can’t even use public toilets.

You like surprises. They leave us housebound for days. With ample time to see where you went wrong before you go there.

Despite four degrees and 60 years’ experience between us, we’ve failed at numerous careers, businesses and relationships. Today, we can’t even land a job at Bunnings – let alone hold it for ten pissing seconds.

Feast on our tears.

Our loss is your gain. We’ve failed again and again (and again) so you don’t have to.

You say fiesta, we say fiasco.

Call NaySayers.

And let us call your whole thing

‘off’!


If you enjoyed this post, you may wish to:

Your smallest kindness may spare us an early grave.


Pic by Melanie Hayes.

Advertisements

Anxiety

January 27, 2016 at 10:09 am | Posted in Poem | 2 Comments
Tags: , , , , , , ,

A crushing victory.

Got the irrits and the shits.

Can’t abide nongs or nitwits.

Think I’ll shake myself to bits.

Anxiety.

Put away the jolly pills.

Out of bed to pay the bills.

Hi! to Life! and all its ills.

Anxiety.

Kick away my trusty props.

Down the slip and brave the chops.

Time to see if this plan flops.

Anxiety.

Bell is ringing like a brain.

Fingers numb yet bruises pain.

Crazy not to be insane.

Anxiety.

Cue the voices in my head.

Self esteem for them to shred.

With no dogs I’d long be dead.

Anxiety.

Ditch the pies and hold the sauce.

Cut the crap and stay the course.

Cry and scream until you’re hoarse.

Anxiety.

Had two coffees and a tea.

Diet tonic; plenty wee.

Think this Coke is bad for me …

Anxiety.

Stick it in a bodgy poem.

Cast it as a bad genome.

Stuff the edit; almost home.

Anxiety.

Fret us not the broken egg.

Life’s a deal; we can’t renege.

Up and go: don’t make me beg.

Anxiety.

 

 

Alcohold

December 15, 2015 at 8:05 am | Posted in Poem | Leave a comment
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Alcohol’s a millstone

That drags you to the deep.

It poisons all your daytimes,

And Alptraums your sleep.

It steals ‘fun’ from your future,

Yet when it comes it’s gone.

And if you ever get there,

You’ll find that there is none.

Today is what you make it:

Thy Heaven, Earth or Hell.

But if you try to fake it,

It’s the most broken spell.

 

 

Blog at WordPress.com.
Entries and comments feeds.