About a year ago I had a semi-drunken conversation with my friend Nick, who lives in Broughton, about who we would choose to have dinner with from the last century. I think I came up with Joe Strummer and I ‘m pretty sure Nick decided on Adolf Hitler. Not, he claimed, because he had Nazi tendencies but out of sheer curiosity of how the mind of a dictator operated.

Anyway, I have changed my mind now, as I want to have dinner with Dave, the total wank-stain who thought he was clever by urging people to re-post the poster below, all over Facebook. They say that you know when you dislike someone within ten seconds of meeting them; in Dave’s case I reckon it took me four seconds to read his wise words and realise that he is a 24 carat, premier league, piece of knob cheese. Surely his website www.daveswordsofwisdom.com is some kind of ironic joke.

Dave: The Post of  a Wankstain

The reason I want to have dinner with Dave is so I can try to ascertain whether he is indeed the biggest bell-end in Britain. When it became confirmation,  I would then order a custard pie for desert and smash it straight in to his self-righteous face before leaving the pathetic twat to foot the bill. What does he mean when he says “IF I HAD SPOKEN TO MY PARENTS THE WAY SOME CHILDREN DO NOW, I WOULDN’T BE HERE NOW TO SHARE THIS STATUS!”  Come on… What do you mean Dave? Would you have been killed by your parents for participating in the criminal art of backchat? I wish you had been.

If there is one thing that drills straight into my central nervous system like root canal treatment, it is the demonisation of teenagers for the sheer sake of it. The poor sods have got enough to worry about in a country full of youth unemployment and tuition fees that are starving them (unless they are rich kids) of the potential of going to University. Young lads (and girls to an extent) get a real raw deal from the pompous folk of middle England who, in their golden generation, left back doors open and readily accepted a clip round the ear from a friendly copper. I guess getting humped up the arse by Jimmy Savile was okay as well was it Dave?

One of the more constructive things I have done in my life is coach boy’s cricket from the age of 9 to 16. To see them grow up and hear all the stories of mischief, parties and girls was great fun. The bonding of friendships and all round camaraderie of them all, regardless of ability, is something I won’t forget until the day I meet my maker. I know that other parents who ran local football teams enjoyed it just the same; I really miss it now. Yet idiots like Dave seem to think that the youth of today don’t know how to behave in the impeccable manner that he did and that maybe, it would be better all-round if they were removed from the face of the earth if they didn’t learn the meaning of respect.

George with a Birthday Sambuca: He should be shot really

My eldest boy, George, turned 17 the other day and I’ll tell you a thing about him and his mates as I know a lot of them quite well. They can be little bastards, they can be lazy, they can be thoughtless and they do brainless things that make you gasp in disbelief. Some of them have dabbled in soft drugs and booze and do you know what? I couldn’t give a toss, because all them have at some point, have made me laugh; lads of that age have endless amounts of humour and some cracking tales from college, some I hear about and some I really don’t want to know.

That’s because Dave, they are 17 and being 17 is all about learning to enjoy life.

I’ll take Dave’s stance and say re-post this if you are big enough to admit you weren’t perfect when you were young.

Not like Dave…