I will never be moving back to England.

That was pretty much the synopsis last weeks holiday to the UK. England itself isnt really that bad. What I mean is that there are things I will always remember fondly, the beautiful countryside for example, the setting for the village in which I grew up, and my family and friends which I miss.

What i had forogt, was how fucking miserable people are. Yes they are friendly enough, in the right places, but I noticed after spending some time away that people seem to walk arround staring at the ground, affraid to make eye contact, affraid to express themselves, seemingly scared to feel.

My epiphany came when I was having coffee in Liverpool whilst waiting for my brother to finish his uni lecture. The coffee shop (one of those god awfull chain shops - which by the way made me wonder:are there no independant shops left in the UK?). Anyway I was having coffee on the 1st floor, overlooking the busiest street in Liverpool, and all I saw was miserable faces awkuadly positioned on hunched bodies, aimlessly trawling the streets form shop to shop, trying to find that piece of them which is so clearly missing, atleast clear to an outsider like me. It was like more or less any scene out of dawn of the dead, except they werent after other peoples souls, they were essentailly looking for their own.

You only have to look at the TV in the UK, show after show telling people how they should dress, what they should eat, where they should holliday, how they can best mutilate their bodies through surgery to maximise their potential, and in one show a certain female presenter shows the mindless zombies how they should shit, and the proceeds to sift through and analyse it.

Are people really that fucking stupid that they have to have every descision they are ever likely to make decided and dictated by a box in their lounge. It actually pains me to say that in many, if not most cases I would have to say yes.

My own parents, who for the record are inteligent, educated and wealthy (I say this only to prove that this condition is not only restricted to the uninteligent and poor) spent my first and only night with them in 6 months watching TV, I mean heaven forbid we actually have a conversation, and find out what each of us have been doing for the past 1/2 a year or our plans for the future. They then failed to understand why I chose not to spend any more time with them, favouring instead the comany of friends, who's idea of catching up with an old friend (or relative) consisted or more than a 4 hour TV soap marathon.

I actually believe that Television is a disease, much like a cancer attacking from within, attacking the ability and fredom to think, speak and express yourself, and being an ex employee of the biggest TV company in the world I feel I am more qualified and informed than most to make that diagnosis. I also believe that this cancer has taken its hold on the nation, and in the most parts its teminal.

My only wish for society is that they turn off, or better still throw out their televisions, breath some fresh air, get some fucking excersise, and open all your senses to the world, the actual world, not the scripted version. When they do they'll realise what a beautiful place it is, and then they'll torture themselves for all those lost hours, days though more probably years wasted sitting infront of that brain clensing device, when they could have been out there living, feeling, exeriencing things for them selves. Living.

When that day comes I will consider moving back to the UK. To the Great Brittain it once was.

Sadly that day will never come.