I've got a bee in my bonnet and that bee's name is Renfrewshire Council.

So, after a fairly heated call with Renfrewshire Council I was informed that unless you're on benefits you're not priority for a home.

I looked into it and it's 150 a week for temporary accommodation, something I was informed you "can't afford' as a student - the direct quote was "You'll need to decide between University and being on housing benefits." Is that really how the system works? Bettering yourself automatically inflicts a hell-of-a lot of burdens upon you & lessens your chance of getting help from the local authority? How is struggling for somewhere to live if you're a student any different than if I were to be claiming benefits?

I am NOT having a dig at people on benefits; I have friends that are genuinely struggling to gain employment and do need assistance, that's fine - that's what the council are meant to do. I know that we're nursing a fragile economy, that finding employment is a colossal task - you've got more chance of having a dry TITP as you are to land a job quickly. But what I can't stomach is when you see people that do abuse the system, that use whatever cash they falsely claim for drugs, booze & whatever else whilst being rewarded with free housing and funds to finance their pathetic lifestyle.

It's a sad state of affairs when you're told by someone who was employed to help advises you to quit further education and claim benefits. Say what you will about David Cameron, but at least he's attempting to weed out those who falsely claim benefits. If this status somehow offends you then I apologise, but don't bother leaving any feed back - I'm not interested today.

Bored? Become a Superhero.

Here it comes, the echoes of self-pity; line-after-line of nothing but sheer, undiluted hatred and loathing for both me and my fellow man. The following paragraphs will positively reek of negativity and they’ll be seasoned with a generous helping of wallowing. 

My life is worryingly becoming more & more like that movie Groundhog Day. I seem destined to repeat the same agonizing scenes of miserable boredom incessantly.  Imagine having to teach an entire language to a reluctant child whilst having peanuts catapulted at your head constantly by a sardonic monkey, which has Justin Bieber’s face literally grafted onto its head, to only have to repeat the whole teaching process again as your student suddenly develops amnesia after mastering the language. That’s what my life feels like day-to-day. And no, I am not being dramatic. I reckon it’s a safe bet that a blind goldfish likely leads a more enthralling existence than I currently do. And if said goldfish doesn’t, at least he’ll go on living a life of blissful disillusion in which he thinks he’s happy as he’ll forget his crippling woes in a matter of seconds. 

It’s because of this crazy-inducing boredom that I’ve decided to create a document that offers some solutions and suggestion to anyone that may also be suffering as I am. 

Suggestion number 1: When you awake in the morning make sure the first thing you do is put on a hat. Throughout the long, drawn-out hours that make up the boring days, you are at no given point allowed to remove the hat from your head; to do is will be taken as hubris to the Hat Gods and Goddess that are constantly watching. Continue wearing the increasing ripe smelling hat until you develop an unconventional/borderline unhealthy attachment to it, at which point I will, with all the elegance and grace of a pig with a fractured trotter, stealthy break into your home and abduct your hat. You’ll spend the next few weeks embarking on a Taken style adventure. With Liam Neeson himself as your guide, you’ll leap from continent to continent desperately trying to recover your precious hat, following the clues I’ve left you.

Suggestion number 2: Steal people’s joy. Every time you see a post that has even the slightest hint of happiness or joy in it, immediately copy that post, rearrange if needs be, and paste it onto your wall. You can now spend the next few hours conjuring as fictitious a tale as you like when people enquire about the good news/whatever joyous post you’ve plagiarized. 

Suggestion number 3: Venture out into the streets and find the most ruthless, vicious, potentially murderous person possible. After locating said person, shackle yourself to them and for the next several days fling as many irksome questions/remarks/dirty socks at them as humanly possible until you’ve whipped them into a murderous frenzy.  Following the arrival of their homicidal state, you must now attempt to anaesthetize their killer side with DVD box sets and the Coronation Street Sunday omnibus.

Suggestion number 4: Develop a superhero alter-ego and become a vigilante. Stop relentlessly picking your backside and quit gawping at your TV like someone four hundred years from now will look at a Nokia 3310 and start preparing your costume – you’ve got crime to stop! Enlist the help of your other bored friends and form 'The Axis of the Bored'. Together take down every vile, morally-impoverished criminal, mugger and white rapper with your righteous fists of fury.  Develop your own warped sense of justice and before you know it, the BBC camera crew will be zooming in on your heroic ways and you’ll gain followers on Twitter faster than Sisqo’s career vanished. 

These are all tried and tested methods, but sadly I’ve exhausted them all.  My days are now composed of continuing my seemingly fruitless quest for a part-time job and, when I’m not being ignored or given the metaphorical middle finger by potential employers, sitting for hours relentlessly gawking at the bottom right hand corner of screen. Like a man in drunken stupor trying to read a bus timetable, I watch as the precious second’s tip-toe by, praying all the while to whatever deity will listen and pleading with them to fast-forward time to the beginning of term. Not because I’m in any great rush to start back on the rocky-road of education, but because at least being back at university will pull me out of my doldrums. So I hope anyway.  

Ironically though, I bet when I do start roaming the lands of University again, I’ll still find myself continuously mumping and moaning. Perhaps I’m just perpetually grumpy, forever doomed to lead a life that is laced with dissatisfaction and a constant bombardment of disappointment, whilst I robotically stagger up whatever path promises to deliver the quickest route to fame and fortune. If my life were soap, people would feel ‘ever so sad’ after each excruciatingly narcissistic episode. 

Anyway, until I score a lottery win or actually find employment, I’m forever going to be anchored to this life of endless tedium. Perhaps I need to step out of this plaintive way of thinking, or perhaps the world and its occupants need to stop being such cunts. The debate will continue, as will my boredom; day after day after day.