When Thinking Can Become Dangerous

Read Time:4 Minute, 58 Second

I’ve been thinking – and yes, I know, that is a very dangerous thing for me to do but I’m so sorry. I can’t help it. I try and tell what passes for my mind to go and have a holiday somewhere. I tell it I will be fine as it suns itself on a beach somewhere in Italy or Miami or wherever it would like to go but my mind insists on staying in my head. It clearly has ‘issues’ and may quite possibly be suffering from some kind of mental illness. I hope not as the care currently available in Britain for mental illness is, quite frankly, atrocious if Britain was a Third World country let alone the fifth largest economy on the planet.

Actually, since Brexit we might be the sixth or seventh but, given the number of countries on the planet I suspect we can live with that.

Why am I worrying? I ask myself. Well, that in itself suggests I’m not all there as, to be honest, I’m not. At least I’m not. My mind, on the other hand, occasionally seems to be – worrying that is. I really think I should sit down and have a serious discussion with my mind and tell it to just chill out and stop worrying so much.

You see, despite my cunning plan for immortality, I somewhat reluctantly accept that, somewhere in the future, I am going to pop my clogs. I am going to shuffle off this mortal coil. I am going to cease to be.

It could happen today as I typeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee – only joking. I did not suffer an enormous heart attack and fall head first onto my keypad – excuse me?? Who said ‘Shame!’??? Damn cheek.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes.

Right. Why are we worrying?

America has a Trump, Britain has a Brexit, Israel has a Palestine, Palestine has an Israel, South Korea has a North Korea, ISIS want to kill everyone, humanity is being consistent and screwing up the planet, whales are committing suicide grounding themselves on beaches, grey squirrels are invading red squirrels habitats and wiping them out, Oldham Athletic are playing badly and may be relegated to a lower division, I am smoking and drinking too much, Russia is behaving like it’s Russia, China is bent on world domination, David Bowie died, Green Day went from being a great band to being friends with Bono and U2 (oh dear), Madonna is somewhere in Africa trying to adopt another couple of African kids – well, at least she isn’t getting her tits out for once, the European Union is creating it’s own army as if anyone would be daft enough to invade the basket case that is Europe, the England cricket team lost again, some team or other won the Super Bowl when everyone thought they’d lost, several kids have been stabbed over several days in London and some died and some didn’t, Matt Damon has a new film out about the Great Wall of China which, looking at the trailers has dragons in it which, I suspect, does not make it a factual film, my PC is playing up and won’t file anything for some mysterious technological reason, nowhere has flooded in Britain since the last time somewhere did, thousands of refugees fleeing war torn places like Syria are being told to bugger off before they’ve even got anywhere, The French continue to be French and nobody has yet located the Loch Ness Monster.

All in all, the world, for now, continues to turn and we, as long as we are still breathing, keep worrying.

Well I don’t. My mind does but, as I’ve said, I intend to have good long hard discussion with my mind and tell it to stop.

After all, what is the point?

People protest against Trump. People march against – oh I don’t know – take your pick, whatever they feel like marching against – unless they live in China or Iran or Saudi Arabia or somewhere, in which case they’d probably be wise not to march – unless they are marching in support of the lunatics running the show of course.

Actually I think that’s the place I was meandering vaguely towards.

There is really and genuinely no point in bothering or worrying.

We are, whether we like it or not – personally I couldn’t be bothered – the little people. We are the ordinary people. We have no power. Not really. Certainly in our cosy western democracies we can actually vote and march and stuff but what did that get us then? Trump and Brexit for starters.

You know what?

We live, we die and the bit in between is called life. For some it’s great, for some it’s ok and for some it’s a pile of shite.

Life’s a bitch and then you die. Live with it until you can’t live with it because you’re dead. Enjoy it whilst you have cause, sooner or later you won’t have it.

Or, as one of my favourite quotes would have it – it was a song by somebody or other – “Don’t worry, be happy”.

If you can do that then you aren’t getting the crap blown out of you in Syria. You aren’t an oppressed woman in Iran or Saudi Arabia. You aren’t living in some poverty hell hole in Pakistan. You aren’t living in North Korea or Zimbabwe or China or Somalia.

You’ve got a lot, so try enjoying it while you can – cause you’re a long time dead you know.

The above came courtesy of what passes for my mind. I have attempted to make an appointment to speak to my mind as soon as possible in order to establish that I would like to stop worrying and, obviously, require the cooperation of my mind to reach such a state of grace.

My mind has yet to get back to me. So has Grace come to that –

About Post Author

Neil Bamforth

I am English first, British second and never ever European. I have supported Oldham Athletic FC for 50 years which has made me immune from depression. My taste buds have died due to too many red hot curries so I drink Kronenburg beer and milk - sometimes in the same glass. I have a wife, daughter, 9 cats and I like toast.

fourdinners14223647@aol.com