My earliest memory of life was walking down my hometown of Paignton and looking up at a garage sign and wondering ‘What will I be doing in the year 1996’?

An opening door stirred me in my dreams. ‘It’s time to get up’. Requests so horrifying I am so glad that I no longer have to put up with. I was currently a normal student, subject to a law that told me that I must attend college. I was at that time, unaware that an education would serve me well. A cup of tea and a regular watch of Rugrats made my entire life a lot worse. If you can imagine a short-term life of suburbia consisting of waking up, brushing teeth, if I could be bothered and then walking down stairs. I would either make or greet a cup of tea that rested on the front room table. Rugrats was my morning TV wake up call for about six months. A continuous drab of horseshit about babies looking for an imaginary toilet flush that turned out to be a diving board, that they would unethically jump upon to make the local swimming pool empty, it’s chlorine filled hole. After my meeting with the TV, we would get driven to the hell of secondary education. Best years of your life! What a bunch crap. Your parents drive that unsubstantiated garbage into your ears. People that had a good secondary education were the assholes I once knew. A punch in the gut and a request for the week’s money that I had earned on my paper rounds. Having a stutter hardly helped my progressive years, either. Having teachers with a chip on their shoulder, make you stand up to read this week’s story report, for their own self-satisfaction. If I ever catch up with them…

Yeah, best years of your god damned life.

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Yeah, best years of your god damned life.

Best years of my life are working in a factory. Most common folk will turn away from factories and say ‘I don’t mingle with blue collar people’, (Behaving like blue collars would like to mingle with people that need a butler to wipe their ass). In factories you will meet some of the most intelligent people you could ever meet. You will meet people from all walks of life. I met a guy that had been the chairman of a large financial institution. He chose factory work because having the responsibilities kids educate themselves for, turns out not to be a barrel of laughs after all. If you like your boss setting you a project to be completed in two weeks (And you know you can’t complete it, because your associate is off sick and he deals with the manufacturing), but you can’t so your boss postpones your bonus at Christmas, be my guest. I chose the factory lifestyle. Work your way up the ladder. What the kids today don’t know is that examination boards all work on the principles of a syllabus. No child alive can memorise everything in a syllabus. The human brain cannot clinically hold that amount of information. Exams are lottery tickets. You learn as much as possible on particular areas of the subject and hope that you picked the winning ticket.

Factory life has finished now though. I am now what one would call ‘The Littlest Hobo’ or ‘Conscientious Objector’. I am no longer a fool to society. I don’t pay my taxes. I don’t give money to charity (In the hope that one day I might get something back in return). I raise my middle finger to the government and walk around the world on god’s good humour.

It was the best decision I ever made. Even my mother hugged me and said well done, the day I left home. She wishes she had the guts to do it herself. But she had been corrupted too long by the burden of modern society. She was institutionalised into suburbia. I still keep in contact with her. I tell her of my whereabouts. She’s divorced twice, moved from job to job, paid her taxes that got her road fixed outside the house.

I catch my own fish. I drink my own water. I don’t live under a government ruled home. I live under a bridge. A bridge that will keeps me dry and delivers me no paid warmth. If the government ever finds me, I will end up in jail. Currently my mother is in jail. She and everyone else in this world thinks that they are free, fools that they are. If we are free, why are we paying? Why are we working? Why aren’t we out in the open enjoying every day that life brings us? If they were to die tomorrow, do you think that they would have done all that they wanted to with their permitted amount of life? I don’t think so. My advice is to get the hell out of prison and start doing what you were put on this planet to do. What is that? Live.

Too many people aren’t living these days. Maybe it’s about time they did.