FUCK BEL MONEYPENNY.

Look, this is serious.
I'm not good at all this like, social scale show respect to people in order to benefit thyself in thy longer runneth, but FUCK. The mere fact I see that's how people work makes me fucking sick.
Won't even give me a formal receipt of submission?
Lose half my work will you?
Talk about fucking angsty.

I have also just realised amongst the fact that funerals will never stop occurring, my mother's chemotherapy isn't going as well as it should and I keep failing university that PUBLISHERS ARE FUCKING JERKS.

Fuck you and your shitty youth jiving jumble of shit.

Shoplifters, thieves, people who keep sitting in the same seats at the back of the Magistrates court, the kids who can't smoke weed at home so they sit in the park and char bugles, the lads who scratch windows and listen to hip hop instead of talking to school girls presenting themselves, the scene hoppers who haven't found themselves in Europe yet, the delayed doctor shoppers, the fixed gear fixed interest one track bike minded bunch, the liars and the cheats who hang with the creeps.
This is for you.
Unedited and grammatically incorrect.
The first one's free.

Click to download The Beginning of the Beggar by Jimmy Hats.

Before you jump down my throat and write me off as a venting angry failure, read that, show it to your kids, your mums, your dads, your teachers, your ex girlfriends, your band mates, your bottle shop attendants, and tell me how fucked we all actually are.

Goodnight.