Shiny Happy Bastards

“HELLOOO”

This is the call of a shiny-happy-bastard, a common sub-species of humankind that infests the workplace, the high street, the extended family get-together, in fact pretty much everybloodywhere.  Like jollified vermin.  It is a distinct call, shrill and almost breathless, with the emphasis on the superfluous O’s.  It is a misleading call; it reeks of some kind of warped pleasure at seeing you, contrary to the fact that you yourself are recoiling in irritation when faced with the source of that sound.

You can categorise shiny-happy-bastards into the genuine and the false, both as bad as each other.  The genuine must be considered as being simple in the head.  You observe the engulfing shroud of happiness with which they adorn themselves in social situations, a flagrantly garish garment of colour and extrovert-ism, and you think to yourself, “My God, what the fuck do you have to be so happy about?”  Indeed.  Life is never EVER quite that good.  So either they’re too stupid to realise or they have been lulled into an hypnotic trance by a misanthropic magician who gets his kicks from the shotgun blast of despair that this poor fucker will suffer once the fingers click and send him plunging sheer-cliff-style into a morass of grim realisation.

The genuine shiny-happy-bastard is incapable of showing any discrimination in life.  You could serve this hapless freak a Masterchef finalist’s three-course meal or a simple poo on a plate and the response to each will be equally celebratory and include the word AMAZING.  You could chainsaw this bastard into two halves and running through his flesh, like it might a stick of rock, would be the words to some trite positive zen-bollocks happy-crappy fatuous fortune cookie mantra.  The deluded sod has probably feasted on dozens of volumes of coffee table books full of that shit, the sort you buy a family member with no proper interests or hobbies in life.

The other kind of shiny-happy bastard is the false one.  Deserving of some respect, yes, because deep down they are hurting and this fantastically fabricated fun-filled folly of a façade is nothing more than a shield, a prop, a disguise.  But obviously, a very fucking annoying one, which you don’t feel you deserve to suffer just because they have shit they’re trying to cope with.  It gives YOU shit to cope with.  Them!

This is the shiny-happy-bastard who regularly assumes the mantle of the Fun Fascist (see other blog post). Even when they’re being less autocratic with their insistence on everyone being happy, they still retain an over-enthusiastic jolliness, a grinningly inane disposition and a disarmingly feckless outlook that drives you to want to kick them, hard, in the cock.

Especially when they see you looking less maniacally smiley than they are, and instruct you to “Cheer up.” 

Fascist.

Now don’t get me wrong, I wish happiness on all people.  I want everyone to be happy.  But it should be like a prize, something precious and earned, something fulfilling to attain, something not taken for granted or complacently  wrapped around yourself.  But most of all, it should be something you insufferable shiny happy bastards fucking well keep to yourselves when I’m anywhere near you.  GGGRRRRR!