Tag Archives: grudge

A Letter to my 14-Year-Old Self

I looked at a writing website for some ideas and I quite liked this title. I’ve recently been thinking about the teenage me and this merges with it very nicely. It’s going to be ten point because I’m still practising ten point lists.

So, point one for the teenage me is – you are going to be a failure in life, so don’t worry about success. All it will do is add an extra level of disappointment to the failure.

Point two, Stand up for yourself. I don’t mean just making a token gesture of dissent, I mean really digging in and refusing to cooperate. People will give way in many cases just to get a quiet life. You see it all the time in life – the most selfish people, who shout the loudest are the ones who get their way.

Point three, see above. When the broken down hack of a metalwork teacher masquerading as a careers advisor shouts at you not to waste his time because “everybody says teaching when they can’t think of anything else to say” go straight to the Headmaster’s Office and complain like hell. He’s only a careers advisor because he was a crap metalwork teacher.

Point four – do stuff. Don’t just end up on the scrapheap as a sixty year-old-man with arthritis and a duff prostate. Buy bigger motorcycles, fall off more of them, at least you will have an excuse for arthritis. And beat that jerk of a metalwork teacher to within an inch of his miserable wasted life.

Point five – don’t regret not getting  a degree, beat the metalwork teacher to death and remember that a life sentence can be as little as 15 years. You can do an OU degree in that time and have time left over to write an autobiography in that time. It didn’t do John McVicar any harm.

Point six, don’t bottle up old grudges against metalwork teachers.

Point seven, don’t worry, it will work out alright. People generally don’t starve to death in the UK and the council won’t let you rot in the gutter when you die. Even if you end up going through the bins behind McDonald’s it’s still better than being a metalwork teacher.

Point eight, spots are transitory.

Point nine, so is hair, Get used to the idea.

Point ten, die during lockdown. That way people won’t notice you had no friends.