Everyone’s pretty good at procrastination, I know that, but I think I have a special gift for it. I’ve known the dates I’m going to be in the Netherlands next month for weeks, but despite this I have failed to book a flight.
The worst thing about being a professional crastinator is the masochism. I am hurting only myself. The prices are going up, up up, and yet I would still rather write a BLOG about buying plane tickets than to just buy the tickets.
If only I could blame it on environmental guilt. I tried to tally up the number of flights I’ve made in the last 10 years, but I lost count. It was a lot. Not a travelling businessman/Saudi oil magnate amount, but definitely more than is justifiable. Truth is, I’m a shitty environmentalist. I barely recycle a thing, I drive my car to the supermarket and I’m more likely to watch Top Gear than An Inconvenient Truth. Also, George Monbiot’s sanctimonious prose makes me want to take the exhaust off my car and rev my engine up outside his house while burning a stack of tyres.
There’s two reasons I’m not very green.
One – I think we’re doomed. This may seem pessimistic, but I say it’s rationality. The problem is not flights, or oil, or plastic bags. It’s people. Too many of them. No politician in their right mind is going to use the words ‘population’ and ‘control’ in the same sentence, and nobody is going to say ‘You know what? Keep your dick in your pants, asshole – planet’s full’… well, apart from me, but no-one likes me for precisely this reason. Even if there weren’t too many people, the people in charge aren’t very nice and don’t care very much about Bangladeshi floods, and the people who aren’t in charge are more likely to be troubled by a minor muscle ache than by melting ice caps. No time to read a book, X-Factor’s on. That’s human nature, it sucks! I’m not preaching. I remember watching the Xmas Tsunami on the news a couple of years ago in my Prague hotel room, thinking ‘Oh, those poor people, that’s terrible’ before smoking my habana and drinking my Pilsner Urquell and forgetting all about it.
Two – I can’t help but think this is all my fault. I should never have sent God that email when I was 13 and my hormones were acting up.
Please could you flood the earth again, but this time don’t bother with that fucking ark. That was your main mistake.
Bush, Thatcher, Vanilla Ice – how many more reasons do you need? We are walking, talking viruses – please clean up after yourself.
Be careful what you wish for. Anyway. I feel better now, and that’s the important thing.