Did
you know that you could get cans of baked beans for just 9p each?
How fucking cool is that? For the slightly retarded amongst you,
that's just £9.99 for 111 cans of beans, with the extra penny
going to a charity of your choice. Fuck all this pancetta and
linguini shit; I'm just eating beans for the rest of my life (it
makes me smell quite funny, but it keeps me on the knife). If
Jesus had intended us to eat other things, he wouldn't have made
baked beans so cheap, and he wouldn't have given us fingers with
can-opener attachments. Dietary requirements, schmietary
schmeschmiaments. If needed I can nibble on a piece of cheese,
bake a potato or on special occasions (the day before Hitler's
birthday, the ascension of Neil Patrick Harris, the anniversary
of Tom Paulin goosing Germaine Greer) a tomato or a slice of
cucumber. That coupled with the occasional apple in autumn and
secreted nuts in winter is all a growing lad needs to stop
growing and be all studly and buff. Nine fucking pence, can you
fucking believe it? If I had known life could be this good, I
wouldn't have wasted it away reading Sartre and shit like that.
One
of these days I'm gonna go into the supermarket and baked beans
are gonna be two for the price of one. Boy am I gonna come hard
on that day. They'll be mopping aisle seven for weeks on end, old
ladies will be slipping and breaking hips left, right and centre.
Can you imagine the kind of rampant orgy that's gonna go on that
night? People will just follow the music and bring the vibes.
There'll be a strange glow in the night's sky that people will be
drawn towards. A band will spring up out of nowhere, they'll go
on to be the best-selling band of all time. This truly will be
the defining moment of a generation. Wow. Shit man, can you
fucking imagine what it'll be like? All these people coming
together, eating baked beans, donating their pocket change to the
cause. It'll be a constantly evolving, self-mutilating, mutating
thing (not an event, not a happening, not a fest, not any of
these things, just a fucking thing. Can you fucking dig it man?).
People will turn up, empty their pockets, and those few small
coins there will be enough to bring in the next 20 people. It's
almost beyond comprehension. I bet with the sheer quantities of
tins that we're dealing with that we could get some scrap metal
company to buy them. That's more baked beans, more people joining
this new Utopia (yesterday's Utopia had a couple of flaws;
apologies to all those who signed their life away), more food,
more people. We truly are fucking blessed.
We
can feed the fucking world! Do you know how much money has been
raised for people in the third world over the years? No, neither
do I, but it must be fucking millions. Due to shocking
mismanagement (i.e., not buying 9p cans of baked beans), people
still go hungry today. The end to famine and hunger is just round
the corner. They can support themselves too: we can set up giant
baked bean factories, churning out 9p cans in quantities
previously unthought of. Ohh man, this is so fucking wonderful.
It makes me want to cry with happiness. All the solutions are in
our hands. Can you feel it? We're on the cusp of an immeasurable
moment here, I want to pause for a moment to take it in, but I
mustn't. I must strike while the iron is hot. Peace is there.
Happiness is there. There is no need for suffering any more. Will
you join me in prayer?