Ugly Bags of Mostly Water

The one thing I'm not especially keen on about our new home is the fact there is no shower as of yet. We have a bath. A small, cramped and pink bath that the pensioner who that previously lived here made use of. Now I've not had baths day after day for about six years and I've suddenly found it tremendously tedious, because it is all very well jumping in and washing your sweaty body clean, but then instead of simply walking out of a shower and getting on with your life, you decide to sit down. Then you lay back a bit because the top half of your body is a bit chilly compared to the toastyness of your bum. That is fatal. Not only are you bathing in your own filth, but like a lay-in, five minutes becomes half an hour and you suddenly realise you've wasted time with a jolt of focus and raise your hand to find that the mischievous water has aged it about thirty years. I hate wasting time.

As this has inevitably started happening to me, I take time to look at my naked body, resting in the water below and I've decided that there isn't anything very special about us. As some alien on Star Trek once said, we're just ugly bags of mostly water. When you're little and are more interested in the world around you than a teenager is in X Factor controversy, everything still seems detached. You eat worms as a kid with no regard for how the worm feels. Would you like it if some giant worm came down from above and ate you whole? Can't say I've got it on my bucket list.

The reality is, we're not some super intelligent being made of impenetrable material, but we're simply another animal. I guess we have equality on our side, what with two arms, two eyes, two legs and a rather well developed brain, but give me a machete and I'll show you how little your brain is worth in comparison to a chicken breast when it is laying on a dusty slab of patio. It is quite an unpleasant thought, actually. Maybe we're just like vermin. We have lots of dirty hair, lumpy frames and more germs than a bird-flu hospital ward in Hong Kong.

We're also incredibly shallow for a species that has sentience. We've created atom bombs, iPhones and the wheel, yet our first action upon meeting someone is judging how they look, as if it somehow matters. Surely we can get past that first stage and base our judgement on personality and behaviour. But no, all I see when I walk around are chavs hitting on women with their tits hanging out and they don't even know why. "COS THEY IS FIT" will be the typical reaction, assuming you can translate it, but truthfully, even chavs are subconsciously evaluating women with large breasts as more able to support offspring.

But why care at all about that? We're better than biology! Don't you know you're shagging humanoid vermin? Women with smaller breasts are just as lovely and beautiful! Part of this is doubtlessly blamed on the media and how they control fashion and perceptions of beauty, but lest I start ranting about peer pressure in society, I think on a more core level, as much as we're intelligent creatures of progression and conciousness, we're ultimately just animals.

Still, we can always satisfy these urges in a cramped pink bath with some female lump of hairy skin. Any takers?