Here’s to apathy, if you can be bothered.

Let’s hoist a drink to giving up, or not. I don’t care.

No amount of righteous anger is going to set this country straight. No Herculean efforts are going to save us.

The game isn’t just rigged, there’s a sign above the table that tells you to abandon hope and just hand your bank details over.

Playing by the rules doesn’t work, being nice just gets your watch stolen faster.

Terrorist sympathisers have been given the keys to the cities, good people are labelled as fascist and far right for pointing out obvious facts.

Perverts stalk swimming pools and female changing rooms, stroking their girl-penises and giving their wank-banks more contributions than Caligula could have ever imagined.

Elected members of parliament, having been caught in a gay sting, give the phone numbers of their colleagues and when they’re caught out; are called brave rather than cowardly perverted filth.

Our borders are porous and unvetted Iranians, Iraqis, Albanians, Eritreans, Syrians and Yemenis; instead of being sunk at sea or turned back at gunpoint are escorted by Border Force and put up in 4 star hotels. And given phones and money.

Pensioners are gradually being demonised for the sin of living long enough to take their pensions.

Local authorities make up new rules every day with the single intent of taking ever more cash from their citizens – while cutting services, closing libraries and making our roads worse than some third world countries.

If you’re unlucky enough to live in Scotland, just calling the First Minister a thick, unelected Islamist cunt with a tenuous idea of the truth is enough to get you a police record.

Stabbings and honour killings are through the roof. Try to point out that there’s underlying data that clearly shows ethnicity related crime and you’re literally Hitler.

Nothing works and everything is worse than before.

Oh. And it costs more.

Because.

Just because.

Shut your fucking mouth citizen.

Do as you’re fucking told.

We should be angry.

But there’s no point.

Enjoy your life.

Eat. Drink. Be Merry.

Just stop caring.

Because at some point it’s all going to fall apart and no amount of righteous anger will stop that.

Dodgson was a prophet.

“In that direction,” the Cat said, waving its right paw round, “lives a Hatter: and in that direction,” waving the other paw, “lives a March Hare. Visit either you like: they’re both mad.”
“But I don’t want to go among mad people,” Alice remarked.
“Oh, you ca’n’t help that,” said the Cat: “we’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.”
“How do you know I’m mad?” said Alice.
“You must be,” said the Cat, “or you wouldn’t have come here.”