Home improvements

Something out of the ordinary happened the other night. We'd been to the @showroomcinema to see Inherent Vice (or rather Incoherent Vice, I struggled to keep up with the plot, beaten into submission by incessant ramblings about something or other) for our mate Jimbo's birthday and finished the night in the Rutland Arms for pints and rock night on the jukebox. Having seen the others off in a taxi, I started walking through town when I saw three tracksuit-clad youths coming towards me. A split second after we'd drawn level one of them shouted "chink!" in my direction and kept walking. The whole thing took me by surprise so by the time I'd turned around they were well in the distance.

Luckily such incidents are a rare occurrence for me. In the 17 years I've lived in the UK I've probably only been subjected to what some may deem hate crime in nature a handful or so times, and the extent of the 'crimes' have been mere name calling. That includes a few "faggot" and "poofter" remarks too for good measure. Needless to say it could have been a lot worse, others have suffered lifelong physical and emotional damage. Nevertheless when it does rear its ugly head it's a bit of a jolt.

When I was younger I might've got upset, might've shouted back and got in to a spot of bother, might've felt less assured, less worthy. Now I just brush it off before it becomes internalised, words dished out by people who probably only speak monosyllabic. I also feel mightily relieved that unlike them I haven't got some form of vocal spasm that causes me to involuntarily comment on everything I see before me as I walk down the street. How bloody tedious would that be?? Pavement! Dog shit! Fag ends!

It also helps to know that, all things considered, I'm in a much different place than them. For all their attempts to manifest their indigenous superiority by verbalising the plainly obvious, even though factually incorrect, South Korean not Chinese capiche?, I'm the one with the measure of control over my own life. The ability to make independent decisions, to gain meaningful employment, to look after my health and wellbeing, the sense to not wear sport related clothing in place of denim, and most importantly the financial freedom to do whatever the fuck I like. Fancy splashing out on an obscenely priced bottle of wine. Done! Could do with a holiday. Booked! My flat needs sprucing up. High fives! Straight in there, splashing the cash.

Never one for spending too much money on home improvements, I went to town with this one, buoyed by a not insignificant pay rise last month. Tripod lamp and multicoloured lamp shade and orange cushion with a rather bizarre animal print from Habitat, possibly the best interior design shop in the world. All 3 items were in the sale of course, totalling £97, down from £142. In fact it only came to £87 as I got a 10 quid voucher because they messed up the delivery and I kicked off.

Improved my home it most certainly has, it's instantly more vibrant and colourful. Previously it was oppressively white, not helped by the fact I'm not allowed to put any nails or hooks in the walls. The lamp in particular is a thing of beauty, whether it's switched on or not. A functional beauty as well, spreading light in the winter dark. It will continue to do so, the light bulb will last for 15 years according to the packet. A frankly ludicrous claim.

Home improvements on a much wider scale is needed too, or come 7 May we'll be staring into a rather humongous abyss. And incidents like the one described above will be altogether more prevalent. It's election year of course and the chance to try and put the country on to a fairer course. 5 more years of the current trite would be difficult to swallow, unless you're a member of the peerage or the owner of Boots or a banker (surely it's not a coincidence that it rhymes with wanker). In the run up to election day it should be considered a civic duty to try and enlighten the gang of Faraged and deluded UKIPpers. Europe really isn't Hades and the Daily Mail is not the Bible.

I reckon I tick almost every box on the UKIP manual of hatred. I'm not white and I'm not British. I'm a migrant (that most heinous of all life forms). I've come to the country through the open border policy that Europe, not the Houses of Parliament, has dictated. I've taken at least 13 jobs that could've gone to a (white) British national. I've claimed benefits that could've gone to (white) British nationals. I've occasionally been a drain on the National Health Service's resources, veering close to health tourism. I'm sexually deviant and won't produce offspring to pass on traditional British values to. I might as well convert to Islam for a Royal Straight Flush of UKIP vitriol. Put that in your [bigoted put-down of choice] and smoke it.

Incidentally my migrant status excludes me from taking part in the general election so all I can do is hope and pray that the British public decides to go to town and make a Habitat style home improvement of their own. It really does work!