For those of you have seen the film 'Idiocracy', I need not explain. For those of you that have not, go and watch it or read a plot summary: I don't have time to relay the whole damn film to you.
Anyway, the plot in a nutshell is that it's the 26th century and only the stupid have bred so everyone on the planet makes Fern Cotton look like Leonardo Da Vinci.
While this may seem a harrowing possibility, you have to ask: aren't we already there? It is the belief of this house (more of a flat now I've been going to the gym) that we currently live in such an intellectual dystopia.
I don't want to bang on about the 'decline of language' or 'the effects of television on today's youth' or any other such Points of View whiny bullshit. The point is: people are stupid.
Of course, I do not refer to you, most eloquent and firm-buttocked reader, but merely everyone else that pollutes our daily lives with their Jesus placards, Jesus sandals, or 'Jesus what do you mean I gave you the wrong change?' Basically, anything prefixed by Jesus is a pain in the proverbial.
But look around you. You are probably surrounded by people who think that chemicals are bad in your food (although everything is a chemical and it's precisely chemical reactions in our body that stop us from dying. Of course, some chemicals are bad but... you get the idea.) There's probably someone in your building right now listening to Alexandra Burke, or other children's music. You may even be unlucky enough to know someone who thought 'Mr. Bean's Holiday' was a cinematic triumph.
I have met people who haven't heard of Stephen Fry, some who cannot understand a word if it isn't written phonetically, and others who think that making small talk with strangers about the build of pigeons is a demonstration of articulate social interaction. I should add that it is not.
At its lowest level, small talk is the type of everyday stupidity that we are supposed to tolerate. While small talk may be useful with a close friend to get the conversation going, surely if you have something to say then you should open with that. It's no good saying "nice weather, isn't it? Oh, by the way, that result came back positive you're going to want to get yourself checked out." And, also, when is "I went out today and saw a man get hit by a lorry and it took hours to get his brain out of my hair" inferior to chit-chat about the traffic?
Naturally, being British, we all have an urge to talk all the time, as though any lapse in conversation reflects badly on our penis-size, but it doesn't. Silence is awkward, but infinitely superior to conversations you've had a million times before. We all bemoan the adverts for forcing us to watch them over and over, yet we positively welcome it in conversation.
So, I would recommend if someone says 'nice weather, isn't it?', rather than responding 'yes, very' you answer the question with something interesting but irrelevant. After all, if you are doing an exam in Geography and it asks you about China but you only know about France, you start your answer 'China is not like France in that...' Do it; it's interesting, fun, and you might just get some stimulating conversation from it. When someone makes the gambit "it's a nice day, isn't it?" why not answer "I've not noticed; I had sex on ecstasy last night and it could piss it down and I would still be beaming."
Even with friends: don't chit-chat! Enrich one another with the gems of knowledge you have picked up. Or, if you are blessed with a particularly sharp mind why not replace sensible converation with wit? Hours can be spent between friends just revelling in the delicious wordplay and sardonic interplay that can occur in a relaxed environment when you light a scented candle.
To move up the ladder of stupidity we must look at the kind of jaw-dropping ignorance that could make even Katie Price shit herself with shock. These instances are rare, granted, but do not happen as seldom as we might be persuaded into believing by such newspapers as the Times. Yuppie culture, for instance, is a microcosm of ignorance. The rushing Londoner with his hard-edged briefcase can be a stunningly obtuse creation. So I have devised a game. It is called 'Yuppie Stalling' and the aim of the game is to slow down your chosen yuppie. This can be done simply by walking slowly in front of him, by dropping things in his path, or by walking in a group of three down a narrow street just ahead of said yuppie.
However capitalist and nauseating yuppie-culture is, nothing takes gold for stupidity but Religion.
Organised religion is a horror to behold. We are contantly being told that God is somewhere waiting for us to find him. Well, excuse me if I don't have time for hide and seek, but if I can't be arsed to look for that pound that I dropped behind the sofa, God may be waiting a little while. Also, when you have a body like mine it is surely blasphemy to say that God made us in his image, and, if you look at the face of the late Jade Goody, such a claim will probably land you an eternity in a lake of fire.
Personal belief has to be tolerated in order for us to be free and flourishing people, but Religion en masse (excuse the pun) spreads arrogant claims of knowledge about the afterlife, a moral superiority complex, and an intolerance to the beliefs and lifestyles of others.
You may, by some miracle (which is more likely coincidence), survived thus far without encountering such people. You may have grown up in an intellectual but bohemian hothouse of culture and drugs. But you will see. Even in the most rudimentary interactions we are doomed to suffer the substandard intellects of others. From those that simply do not know, to (worse) those that just don't want to know, they are everywhere. Some people can apply themselves to certain tasks and acquire quite a mass of qualifications but be the most insufferably moronic lumps of flesh. Some people cannot think unless it is requested of them. Some people will break into your flat just to switch off an alarm, or make comments that are neither amusing nor beneficial to anyone, or tut at you on a tram for not giving up your seat even though you got there first, or make mountains out of molehills when you don't wash a plate. And there are some people that think it is funny to laugh at people who are different.
However, fear ye not. There is a solution. Cut them out. Do not talk to them, don't smile at them, don't ask them round for coffee. Be polite, be courteous, put them down when they get too pompous, and leave it there. We don't have long to live, so why waste this precious time on the unworthy? Drink life to the lees, spit out the dickheads, and have a blast. After all, a night in with a good record, a strong cup of Masala tea, and the last few chapters of some glittering, gistening, and even gistering novel is far favourable to a night with a wanker.
Of course, the pinnacle of happiness can be found in the company of a person (or persons) that is never dull, nor witless, nor rude, but rather an opulant personality with interesting trivia longing to be gleaned, delectable foils of wit waiting to pierce the starched shirt-front of your humour, and wide-eyed, breathtaking observations that will make you curl your toes in pleasure. Most people are cunts, get used to it and start living life.