9sic9

You may have noticed a change in your local supermarket. They have added new self-checkout thingys. And if you have ever used one, you will know that they are always going wrong.

This annoys people.

Like my mother. And my aunt.

Because they always go wrong, and if you don't put your item in the bagging area within 1.5 seconds, it shouts and you and refuses to carry on.

If you bring you own bag, it won't let you keep it in the bagging area and shouts and you and refuses to carry on. So you take it out of the bagging area, at which point it shouts at you and refuses to carry on.

I know a great deal of people this pisses off. When the machine says "Please wait for assistance", it is obvious that it has never had to shop in a supermarket before otherwise it would know that there is no staff around to be seen. And if you can't find anyone it shouts at you and refuses to carry on.

When you scan something, you have to scan it three times before it registers on the screen, but the machine has already got it in its memory and is waiting for you to put it in the bagging area.

So, no, these things do not work for anyone.

But, I am happy to report, I am the exception that proves the rule!

I walk up to the machine, and press the Start button on the screen. I scan the items and place them in the bagging area and nothing happens, there is no shouting and refusal to carry on. And it lets me finish when I want to and choose the method of payment my mother wants (because she's paying). And then we finish, and we all go home and have a nice cup of tea.

So, the machines hate the civilians and mere mortals, but - as my friends repeatedly tell me that I'm a vampire - I scare them into submission. And they work!

Songs are used a lot in TV shows and adverts. Usually, it is a great way for people to find new musical tastes as there is a website where you can find all of the songs that are used in adverts. It's called songsofthesalesman.com (isn't that awesome?).

But unfortunately, through no fault of the general public, shows and adverts not worthy of certain artists have started to delve into the musical underground of rock and heavy metal, choosing songs that they should not be allowed to play.

For instance, when nothing was on and I was listening to music on my laptop, the television was absent-mindedly on a show about property development. The song I was listening to finished, and while I was choosing another, I heard a song that I recognized.

Had someone changed the channel over?

No. The property developers were still looking at their incredibly boring houses. While Good Riddance (Time of Your Life) by Green Day - yes, Green Day! - played in the background.

I think the American punk threesome would be rather vexed by this.

Such as when I was bored and was kind of paying attention to Countryfile (that my mother was watching) and they were talking about potatoes. Yes, the brown spuds that go incredibly well with roast dinners and Christmas turkey.

So while I was not quite paying attention and fiddling with a string used to tighten the hood of whatever hoodie I was wearing that day, I was suddenly greeted by the sound of a song that I love very much.

I look up to see a woman grinning at a tractor while Born For This by Paramore played in the background.

Countryfile is a programme about not-so-cute little birds and potatoes. Paramore are about confidence and messed-up relationships. Countryfile is not worthy of Paramore. Not by a long shot.

The same long shot that a property development programme is not worthy of Green Day. I love that particular song, and I was devastated to see it being played on such a programme that the presenters couldn't in a million years even hope to fathom the emotion behind the acoustic masterpiece.

So why should they be allowed to do it? The songs didn't even go with the programmes even though it was just the riffs. They just didn't fit. But only I could know that because I love the songs and I know what they're about. I know that they don't fit in with people who have got too many houses to count and only eat potatoes.

So, to the people who make these programmes, go ahead and use U2 and Coldplay and Travis as much as you like. Just don't delve into the underground that's actually any good and posesses any measurable amount of talent.

Playing Paramore on Countryfile would be like playing Andrew WK on Top Gear. It just wouldn't work.

I hate sports. I have always hated sports. With a passion.

This hatred may have something to do with the fact that I'm not good at any of them. But I have managed to find talent in the one sport that no one in the whole fucking world cares about: archery. What the hell is the point of that?

The rest of the hatred is made up with the fact that sport is based on everyone having it in for someone or something else involved. Usually each other and/or another team, but not always.

Dart players hate the board and therefore want to throw sharp things at it.

Motor racers hate the world and want to pollute it by burning as much fuel as possible.

Footballers hate each other and therefore spit and sneeze all over the pitch in the hope that one of the other players fall over and get a face full of it.

Dressage twits hate horses and so break their backs by sitting on them, re-shape their mouths by butting a bit in them, and then make them prance around a room while doing different gaits.

But the sport that hates its equipment the most is cricket.

Not only is cricket the most boring sport in the world - not to mention the most restricted because oh, my days have you seen the size of the rule book? - but they hate the core of the sport: the wickets. At least I think that they are the core of the sport because even though I am English, unlike in the stereotype I have no idea how cricket works.

But out of all of the sport equipment in the world, I think a cricket wicket would be the absolute worst thing to be. Everyone in the game hates them.

The bowler hates them and therefore wants to knock them down by throwing a hard ball at their heads.

And the batter hates them because after he has successfully averted the hard ball away from the ones behind him, he then runs over to the other wickets and hits them on the end just for the hell of it!

Either way, one of the wickets gets a sore head and a six-pack of aspirin in the morning.

So, no, I would not want to be a cricket wicket. Or a dart board. Or the planet. Or a footballer. Or a horse.

But definitely not a cricket wicket.

There used to be a time, many moons ago, when I used to care what other people thought about me. I am happy to say that that time has passed and is now only material for ancient history writers.

I used to worry that people thought I was a freak. Now I embrace that fact. I used to think that people thought I was weird. Now I like being weird. Something happened to me in recent years that triggered an impulse to enjoy my individuality. And there's nothing wrong with that.

I guess it all started when I turned goth at age ten, emo at eleven, hippie and twelve, and punk and thirteen. I have so many different styles that they all get mixed up and I look ridiculous most of the time. And I don't care anymore.

My morning routine is getting up, making my bed, having breakfast, having a cup of tea, and brushing my hair. After I have successfully brushed my hair, I then have to tie it up. And for some reason, whenever I tie my hair back, a small loop of hair always sticks out on the left side of my head.

This loop of hair is, in my house, infamously known and The Bit.

Sometimes The Bit's fat cousin also comes over to join in the party about an inch above my head. I used to care very much about The Bit. About how it made that side of my head look, how ridiculous my hair looked. Now I couldn't give a fuck.

I have spent my entire life caring about what other people think of me. Anyone who still thinks like this will know that it is a rather stressful process. A rather stressful way of life. Rather pointless.

I now cannot be bothered to give a fuck. It just takes too much out of the person i.e. me. Now I know I am a freak and I enjoy it. I know I am weird and that's fun too. So why can't everyone think this way?

Why can't everyone feel happy even when they haven't got the new Gukki bag that everyone will love and envy if they had it?

Why can't everyone just believe in themselves as themselves and think about who they want to be, not who everyone else is?

You probably already know that I am addicted to Top Gear. Anyone who knows what Top Gear is will also know that that means I am addicted to cars.

This annoys my mother very much.

I have a friend who is also obsessed with cars. But she doesn't watch Top Gear! How can you be a Brit petrolhead and not watch Top Gear? Obviously I challenged her about this and she said that Top Gear is just three middle-aged idiots doing stupid stuff with cars. I said it's hilarious and she didn't believe me.

This was when we went to Stratford last week. And at Stratford, there is a WHSmith. So we went in. It is August, which means that they are all getting ready for Christmas and the new year (what the fuck?). This of course includes the new 2010 calendars. There were calendars of dogs and cats and stuff...

But the one we took a shine to was the Supercar calendar. We immediately turned it over and looked at the supercars that it featured. So, while my friend was drooling over the Lamborghini, I was trying to get through to her that the Zonda is faster. Once again, she didn't believe me and why wouldn't she? How can you know that when you don't watch Top Gear?

Now you may be bewildered by the title of this post. This is to do with my recent trip to Hastings. You know about the cars in the two penny machines. And may I just add that when I told a different friend about that, she thought I was talking about real cars.

But there is also a wood shop near the end of Hastings just before you get to the car park and it's next to a shop that sells the best ice cream in the world. Of course it used to be an all-wood shop, but now it sells more things like thimbles with the Queen's face on it.

But I also saw something else in there. I saw some car models, GT Racer car models. They were covered in stickers that only pre-pubescent boys would appreciate. It did not have the name of the car on it, and in both spaces where the badge should be were stickers that said GT Racer.

But it was one of those cars that had that look so you just knew what it was. It was a Bugatti Veyron. And it was bright yellow.

I have an addiction.

I am not denying this. I am accepting it, embracing it, if you will. I am not admitting that I am addicted to Top Gear however... yet. No, this post is about something completely different. This is about my most dangerous addiction.

You see, I am an addict of a certain accessory that is unsuitable for children under the age of 36 months. Fuck, some of them are even unsuitable for children under the age of three! They have sharp edges, and endless number of designs that shock and confuse the masses.

I am, of course, talking about... badges.

I own three bags. A small one, a bigger one, and an even bigger one. All three are almost completely covered with badges. Last time I counted, I had one hundred and eleven badges. That went up by five the day after, bringing the total to one hundred and sixteen badges in my possession.

This is a lot of badges.

Not only this, but I also own a Super BadgeIt!, enabling me to make badges with just the turn of a handle! I have even figured out how to design them on the computer so it's easier to bring them into reality! So far I have made badges with the slogans 'I am the Stig', 'Impotence is our only hope', and my personal favourite, 'Dance', 'Mosh', 'Scream', 'Rock'.

So yes, it would be clear that I have an addiction. Those six extra badges (which would bring my total of badges in my possession up to one hundred and twenty two) are sitting on my laptop, waiting for the day to come when I get the refill for my badge-making machine and I can finally make them into reality.

I am very excited about this.

So yes, I am aware of my addiction. I love my addiction. It doesn't hurt me or anyone else (unless you stick the pin in their eye), therefore I do not need therapy or rehab. Also, what kind of fucked-up rehab would offer rehabilitation for a badge addiction?

And because of my addiction, I have created a brand new word for what I am: a badgeoholic. Please sign my petition to get it into the dictionary by leaving a comment below.

Yesterday I went on my third annual trip to Hastings with my mother and my nan. We took a coach there and got picked up half an hour late because of an accident on another road. It was quite a wonderful day.

We of course had to spend a large portion of our time on the two pence machines in the arcade. If you ever want to win anything on two penny machines, Hastings is the best place to go. Collectively, we won seven different prizes in the space of about half an hour.

My mother won some things with different animals on them and a duck. I won a fridge magnet, and a keyring-type thing.

What I also won, is what this post is all about.

There was a machine that had cars in it, a few of which were right on the edge, just about to fall off. Being an insistent - and somewhat obsessive - two penny machine player, I just had to win them.

Sure, they were in plastic cases, were plastic themselves, were way to small to get into and each came with a blurb from a Bond film. Nevertheless, I won a BMW Z3 Roadster and an Aston Martin DBS. I was quite pleased with this.

Not to mention the fact that because of the plastic cases, they couldn't actually fall down so we had to get one of the nice arcade assistants to open the machine and get it out for me.

I was pleased with these wins.

Unfortunately, I made a mistake of going for a rally car in a different machine that wasn't in a plastic case and didn't come with a blurb from a Bond film. The red one was nearing the edge and, being an insistent - and somewhat obsessive - two penny machine player, I couldn't resist.

I watched it get closer and closer to the edge until...

I ran out of two pennies. This was quite annoying, and when I went to get some more, my nan held me back and simply told me that I should give up and that someone else would win it.

Sad but as a devout believer of 'no point crying over spilled milk', I let it go and walked away.

As I was walking away, however, I noticed a small boy go up to the machine...

And win my prize!

How unfair is that?

The world. We all know it. We all live in it. And we all know that it is absolute shit. I want a better world. One where - as you would have guessed from my last post - there is no sun. No hip-hop, rap, RnB, classical music or reggae. Or dance music which has no real need for lyrics.

A completely metalised world. Is that too much to ask for?

The title of this post may have brought a smile to the edges of your lips, but I do. I really do. Why do we need to know why a chicken crosses the road? Why do we make jokes out of it? Why can't we just leave the fucking chickens to cross the fucking road in peace?

I once made a long list of rules for my world when I came to power. Or a list of rules to send to the Top Gear team when they come to power. They included the death penalty for not liking Mötley Crüe or being annoyingly obsessed with Twilight.

My favourite of these obscene rules however, was actually a line from a Steel Panther song: Death to all but metal. Even though I like things that aren't strictly metal, I suppose they could be things that I could live without. But then again, I would be in charge so I could do whatever the fuck I wanted to.

Another of these rules was to make 'God Save the Queen' by The Sex Pistols the national anthem, and James May the patron saint of England.

And why the fuck not?

More were also to make everyone in the world have at least one tattoo and/or piercing. Another was Kat Von D rocks. I also seem to remember that the second rule of my crazy fucked-up world was, in these exact words: I don't care how much you love Nikki Sixx, he's mine. There were others making everyone a fan of the books that I write. Everyone must vote in the Kerrang! Awards every year. Everyone must buy Rocksound magazine every week. And lots more crazy ideas to make metal the greatest thing on earth.

But metal is the greatest thing on earth.

Well, then, to make metal more appreciated. I've already told you about how unfair I find it that metal is so discredited. Made to look like the Devil's advocate. Blamed for nearly everything: murder, rape, suicide.

Hopefully when I come to power, these problems will cease to exist.

Oh, and for those of you who don't know, Steel Panther are a current four-piece from America determined to bring glam metal and cock rock back to the ears of the masses. I wish them luck.

Everyone knows what it is... it's a big ball of gas floating millions of miles away. 93,000,000 miles away to be exact (sort of).

Scientists say that we need it to live. But then it's saying that it will also kill us all in some 5,000,000,000,000 years time. So what exactly is the point of it?

Speaking as a vampire, I hate the sun. Don't you?

Yes, I like the heat, but does it have to be so fucking bright? So I guess the question I am trying to ask you here is: what the fuck is the point of the sun?

We don't need it. Scientists say we need it to live, but is that true or are they just saying that? You never know what these people might be up to. I mean it was those pillocks that invented the nuclear bomb.

So what I am trying to say is that, it's not that the scientists are always lying, but just that they are a lot of the time. One big lie that they've spread it that we created global warming. That it was all down to us. That if we'd never existed, neither would have global warming.

Bullshit!

But still, this post is about the sun, not global warming. That my children, is for another post. I know you shall be eagerly awaiting on the edge of your seats for that one, my children...

So, back to the sun - it's pointless. Sure, it did have some use before we invented UV lights. Now that they're here, why do we need the sun? We can have the normal amount of heat through fires and other kind of heating systems. Like central heating. We can have the same amount of light from neon, even outside (for without the sun it would be eternal night).

Of course I have to take something into account here - sleep. If there was an eternal night, when would we sleep?

That my children, is your problem.

And think about it - without the sun, fair-skinned people wouldn't have to spend ridiculous amounts of money on sun cream every year. We could have summer whenever we wanted - just put the heat thingys on whenever we felt like it.

And we're already trying to find someway of getting to Pluto anyway, and there sure as hell ain't much (if any) sunlight over there at all.

So, my point, my children, is this: we don't fucking need the sun! It's pointless! It's annoying, it's too bright, it's too hot, and we don't fucking need it.

The only way I can think of it being useful is by giving the awesome number 93,000,000 a meaning.

Everyone has them... I won't ask yours, this post is simply to explain to you all about mine. This is also to do with the fact that the Internet can get dull at nine o' clock on a Wednesday evening. As many of you will know, I am currently on summer holidays. It is the first day, and I have yet to break into the predicted boredom... at least I'm denying that I've broken into the predicted boredom...

But this post is not about predicted summer boredom. This is about my obsessions that will allow me to beat them. Of course my main one is music, something which I have OD'd on many times and I have yet to care. But, like most people, I have many obsessions. They include:

• Music
• Writing
• Reading
• Top Gear
• Blood Ties
• OCD
• Typing
• Organisation
• Miniclip

And of course, there are bound to be many more, but none that I can be bothered to type.

Probably my biggest at the moment is Top Gear. Anyone who has read my strange (very strange) posts on Twitter will know that I am always watching it. Always. I watch the double-bill of ridiculously old episodes on Dave every weekday at 4 o' clock, and every new episode at 8 o' clock on a Sunday evening.

Blood Ties is a TV show that I haven't actually watched for some time, yet somehow I still manage to be obsessed with it.

Certainly my favourite is the first on this list. But this is somewhat wrong, however. Alas, it is not music that I am obsessed with, it is actually heavy fuckin' metal. One day I shall give you a list of all my musical tastes, every single band and single artist that I like, even if I only like a couple of songs by them.

I have been wanting to post a rather longer one, like a proper newspaper column or something, but I can't think of anything else to say regarding my obsessions.

So, on that bombshell, good night!
 

Ah, summer is here! Well, if you live in the northern hemisphere it is... Unfortunately, my school has yet to break up for the summer. But we have beaten our rival school by... one day! (We break up on Tuesday and they break up on Wednesday) We're all very happy about that.

But what I have logged on to tell you is about how stupid and blind teachers and schools can be sometimes.

This week, the greensheet (our school newspaper) has put pages and pages in the back completely covered with summer activities so we 'don't get bored' in the six weeks holiday. What they have overlooked in this act, is that this is actually implying that we aren't bored at school.

This of course, is wishful thinking on their part.

Any self-respected schoolkid will know that school is the most boring thing ever, and that it is much more desirable to be bored at home than at school where one of the rules might as well be 'Thou shalt not be bored', which of course is rule number one in the school system and is enforced with dedication by Headmistress von Holyer than Thou. A rule that is the most important in languages, when you are not allowed to be bored whilst listening to someone witter on in a language you don't even understand.

If English is not your first language and you find some of these words tricky, I give you permission to be bored.

Last post, I asked you not to think of me as a boring history teacher as I explained about the Eleanor Crosses, a part of my country's history that I particularly care about. I asked this because history teachers generally are boring. No offence to the ones whom I have never met and aren't boring.

So, in short, my point in this rather short post is simply: school is boring. Summer can be boring, but home is a fucking damn sight more interesting than being stuck within the four fucking walls of a fucking school for six hours a day, time my children, which you will never get back.

Ever.

Being British, I know a lot about the history of my country. Which is why I am fucking appalled at the immense amount of ignorance people have on the subject. I know one girl who doesn't even know what the Houses of Parliament are! Fucking hell!

But this post is all about one of my favourite parts of British history: the Eleanor Crosses, as I have been informed that most of the people I know have no idea what they are.

Queen Eleanor was King Edward I's wife, and when she died, the King took her body back to London on the longest funeral march ever. Whenever they stopped, the King spent a lot of money building these crosses to commemorate the journey that his late wife's body took.

There were 12 crosses, and they were all beautifully crafted, designed and built. Now hardly any of the originals remain. They are all replicas or simply not there anymore. The reason for this is for another entry which I will post after I have got my internet phone, when I can proudly proclaim that I have posted it on a phone instead of with my laptop perched on my knees.

I hope you do not think of me as a history teacher now, as my history teacher does tend to be immensely boring. In fact, scrap that, you can think of me as a history teacher just don't think I'm boring. Maybe this post will put you off reading all of my future posts.

But quite frankly my dear, I don't GIVE a damn!

In my maths lesson, I was asked to think of as many different uses for a brick in five minutes. The first time I tried, I thought of nineteen different uses for a brick. I tried again, however, and that time I got - including the original nineteen - thirty-two different weird and wonderful uses for a brick. And I would like to share them with you now:

1. Making houses
2. Throwing at people
3. Murder
4. Weighing things
5. Testing teeth strength
6. Weight lifting
7. Breaking bones
8. Throwing at houses
9. Stubbing your toe
10. Giving yourself concussion
11. Giving others concussion
12. Making dents in the floor
13. Weighing something down
14. Art
15. Paper weight
16. Door stop
17. Theft
18. Suicide
19. Breaking people's arms by putting them in the bottom of their shopping bags when they're not looking
20. Drawing/writing on tarmac
21. Cup
22. Demolition
23. Other kind of cup
24. Saving water
25. Self-harm
26. Bending metal
27. Nail-filing
28. Destroying the Gherkin
29. Killing insects
30. Squashing shoes
31. Electric insulator
32. Confusing people

I was rather proud of this list. If you think of any more you can put them in the comments board.

Horror is something I am very passionate about. Unfortunately, when people think about horror, they think 'thriller'. There is a difference between thriller and horror, however slight it may seem to the inexperienced. The line between horror and thriller is not thin.

Horror is something that cannot be made anymore. All of the horror stories have already been made, and there will be no more. Any 'new' ones are in fact just ones from the old stories.

Thrillers on the other hand, are American films about a group of high school kids (which always include a jock, a nerd, and a group of hysterical cheerleaders) who go to camp/for a ride, and end up on their own in the middle of the forest and end up getting hacked to pieces one by one. I do admit that my favourite film - the slasher Urban Legend - is a thriller movie, but that is nothing compared to my passion of horror.

Can you see the difference now? Yes? Good. Now I can continue with my point. While thrillers are another form of horror that is rather minor, there are four greats that are pure horror. These are:

• Vampires
• Werewolves
• Dr Frankenstein
• Dr Jekyll/Mr Hyde

The above are actually ordered in the order of my knowledge. Anyone who knows me, kind of knows me, or indeed has just seen me around, would know that I am completely obsessed with and know nearly everything there is to know about all kinds of vampires. I am not an expert on werewolves but I know quite a lot, and I would not call myself a novice on Dr Frankenstein, but unfortunately all I know about Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde could be written on a postage stamp (the back of course, as it would be rather unpatriotic to write over Her Majesty the Queen's face).

I shall not bore you with the details but I would just like to say that one of the things that would be written on that postage stamp is that Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde is the only of the above that only has one version. Vampires have almost an infinite number of versions - whether they sleep in coffins, the garlic thing, the sunlight thing, the crosses thing... At some point every one of those parts has either been taken away or 'tweaked'.

As for werewolves, there have been many changes to that legend as well. There have been changes on whether they need to see the full moon or not to change, whether you need to be bitten, whether you have to be born a werewolf, how big they are, if they lose their memories when changed... You get the picture.

And even Dr Frankenstein has been tweaked: where the castle is, the mystery that is Igor, the Monster's good, the Monster's bad, Frankenstein dies, he lives, Elizabeth is there, Elizabeth isn't there...

But Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde is the only one of the horror greats not to have been tweaked and/or changed in some way.

But this is not my point. Alas, I do not have a point. I have just wasted the last few minutes of your life. Ha ha, readers. Ha ha.

Anyone who read my last blog entry, and in fact anyone who is alive in this day and age, will know all about the 'delinquents' that are made out of young people these days. This is all because of knife crime (dum-dum-DUM!)

Think about it, all people think of when they see a group of young people hanging out on the streets, is crime. They think that they - we - are up to no good. And quite frankly, that is shit. And when people see a lone young person wearing dark clothes, such as goth clothes, or a hoodie... with the hood up! It seems that more people think that it is a crime just to wear a hoodie, because if you do, you've done - or are planning to do - something a lot worse.

As a young goth, the only time I can wear my normal clothes and not have people giving me funny looks - well, you would think - is Halloween. But alas, not even the blessed Hallow's Eve can save the innocents from the media-fed adults of the 21st Century.

Halloween 2008, I was traveling to Camden with my mother. If you don't live in London, Camden is a goth/emo/punk/hippie market near central London. It is the best place in the world, somewhere where I can always feel at home. Hallows Eve, the one day when I should be able to get away with dressing as a goth - as me - I couldn't. I was on the train to Camden, and I sat next to a woman who wasn't dressed up at all. She immediately got up and stood on the other side of the train. She was still there when we got off.

I suppose I should probably tell you what I was wearing on that fateful Halloween. It was a black t-shirt, with a gothic skirt that had a satin cross on it and some chains. I also had on jeans, my brown hair out, and I had drawn two red dots (awkwardly) onto my neck to make it look like I had been bitten by a vampire. (It worked as well). How is that so bad that I can't even get away with that outfit on the blessed Hallows Eve?

But anyway, I am not talking about getting away with being a goth. I am talking about how everyone suspects that young people - teenagers - are going around with knives and guns and killing everyone. WE ARE NOT!!!!

Look at the recent knife crimes. All of the victims have been teenagers, and the killers have been in their early twenties. Can anyone else see where this is going? We are getting killed, and we're getting blamed for it! What the fuck is up with that? That is so fucking unfair!

I think that everyone should leave us all alone, especially those media-fed bastards who see a young person wearing a hoodie and immediately think 'crime'. We are not all like that. In fact, hardly any of us are. I know no one like that and there are tons of young people in my community. None of them are like that, but here in (I won't divulge where I live for it is unfortunately quite embarrassing) my town, there have been a few incidents of knife crime. All of those times, I have unfortunately been wearing a hoodie with the hood up because it's been chilly.

I don't suppose I'll ever get away from it. Do you?

Has anyone else noticed that every teenager nowadays seems to like hip-hop? And what is hip-hop? It's some 20-year-old music genre for people who mask the fact that they can't sing by talking along to the music.

Meanwhile, the wonders of the near-40-year-old genre of heavy metal is disappearing through the cracks. But luckily, it won't go down without a fight. No genre, subgenre, band, singer, artist, guitarist, drummer, singer, legend - that made his or her life through heavy fuckin' metal is going down without a fight. And neither will I.

Through the years, heavy metal has been prosecuted for anything and everything to do with the 'delinquents' made out of young people. But that is a story for another entry. I am talking about the greatest music genre in the universe.

As everyone knows, it all started with four angsty teenagers from Birmingham who took music and turned it on its head, making a brand new genre that would inspire and create thousands of fans and bands in the next 40 years. This was Black Sabbath.

But, to leave you on a positive note, I will note that heavy metal WILL NOT DIE!!!!

If any of you went to/saw the Download Festival 2009, either by actually going, seeing it on YouTube, or watching the Exclusive on Scuzz TV, you will know that thousands of people went - and hundreds of bands - went to the infamous Donnington festival this year. And they will continue to go.

Unfortunately, I was one of the losers that couldn't make it to the festival, so I was quite depressed as I watched the hilarious video diaries of two of my favourite bands - The Blackout and Five Finger Death Punch. All I can say now is that HEAVY METAL WILL LIVE ON FOREVER. The day metal dies is the day I die.

Quite a morbid first post, no? Well, that's just who I am....

I am doing a school project on controversial topics and I chose the death penalty. While researching for it, I discovered that the majority of people are against the death penalty. WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH THAT?

Alright, not for minor crimes and maybe not even for rape, but definitely murder! I mean, come on, they have taken a life - why should they get to keep theirs? And not only have they taken a life, they have destroyed the lives of countless others, family, friends etc. WHY SHOULD THEY BE ALLOWED TO LIVE? And even if they get life, it doesn't mean life anymore. At least if a prisoner gets a life sentence, it should mean life. Not just they're in for fifteen years and then they're let out again. It shouldn't work that way.

And definitely no privileges. I mean, prisoners these days get the food they want, TVs, time outside... if they have killed someone they should get life - meaning life - and it should be hard. Oscar Wilde got a long time in prison with hard labour just for being a homosexual. These people have destroyed lives. Can anyone else see the difference?

I AM FOR THE DEATH PENALTY

PS. Not to mention how much it costs to keep high security prisoners in prison. It costs more for a week than staying in a luxury five-star hotel! What the fuck is up with that?