The third… and possibly final part of this ongoing series will tackle the most grievous offender of all:

 Happy People With Children.

 While this may appear an odd choice when Goths were tackled in the last episode… there is logic behind this. While the Goths may be miserable bastards, at least you know they’re not hiding anything besides their collection of Care Bears. Happy People With Children, however, MUST be hiding something evil.

 Think of the happy people you’ve seen around you… Do you think they have any reason to be happy? Of course not… After all, they don’t smoke, they don’t randomly lash out at people on the street, and, worst of all, many of them seem to like their children.

 Now let’s tackle this in a orderly fashion.

 We know they’re lying. Have you ever spent time around a child? Did you hit that child? Of course you did… That’s because you’re normal. Normal people don’t let the little fuckers get away with their inane crap. We will not look at the child’s piss-poor drawing and go “is that mummy and daddy?”… No, we will slap them in the face and refer them to a therapist. I don’t care that the parents believe it’s an accurate representation of the family… no… What we see is the truth… That kid just drew a picture of him eating our spleens while wearing his dead grandmother’s wedding dress. We hear the Omen music… Happy People pretend it’s just the neighbour’s stereo.

For this essay let’s assume I have a fictional child, Little Jimmy.

 Now we know a number of The Breeders are lying to themselves. When out of earshot of their spouse they flat-out despise their children.  However, there are some that remain oblivious to the fact that Little Jimmy’s playing with matches is the first sign of him being a serial killer. Little Jimmy likes the flickering… Little Jimmy likes the crackling… Little Jimmy likes the colours… Little Jimmy likes the screams of the innocent and the smell of roasting nun.

But, why can’t they see that their child is a little shit?

 Good question… It’s obvious to all right-thinking people that their child is going to contribute nothing but stains and cinders. Somehow part of some of their brains develops a fault. It’s like the “Oh shit you’re going to explode” bulb on their dashboard blew. Now they’ll continue on through life at 30 with a fucked clutch, no brakes, and a radiator full of napalm. Halfway down the M25 of life they’ll go bang and some of us’ll get shrapnel in the face.

 Once the bulb has gone there’s no way we’ll ever convince them of the truth. Even when the child kills enough to finally be caught the parents’ll go on the news going “Oh he was such a good boy”. Mind you, they have a point, Little Jimmy did keep saying his prayers as he CUT OFF MY FACE.

 Still… Think of the happy times…

 Ah yes… Taking your child on holiday and shit? Let me ask you: How long did it take someone to say “We’re never going on holiday again”? My money says it was within six hours. Yet… as always, they forgave the child… They went home, cried, and thought that next time would live up to those they saw on the commercial… They believe the kid will giggle as he goes down the waterslide.

WRONG: Little Jimmy will glue razorblades to the waterslide and fill the pool with fluids.

But what of the pride of watching him in the school play?

 Oh yes… That’s what makes the parents happy…. Yeah… nothing could bring a warm glow to my heart like watching my child fuck up BEING A GOD DAMN SHEEP. I really need poorly-videoed proof that something that sprang from my loins can’t move around a stage on all fours going “baa”… No… Little Jimmy forgot his fucking lines…. Oh look… now Little Jimmy is sexually assaulting the Virgin Mary… Oh look, now he’s sexually assaulting Joseph…

But he doesn’t know what he’s doing….

 Bullshit, Little Jimmy knows exactly what he’s doing. He watches more porn than I do…

But Mary’s enjoying it…

 Yeah, well, Mary’s parents are Hippies… Look at the expression on Joseph’s face… He definitely ain’t happy.

It’s perfectly natural for them to experiment at that age… It’s normal… it doesn’t mean anything.

 See… here’s my problem… it’s all excused by the “he’s too young to know what he’s doing” thing… When exactly is “too young”? I want to know this because if I throw a rock in someone’s face I get prosecuted. If I threw a child off the top of a slide… I’d get prosecuted. If I pissed in the door of Argos… I’d get prosecuted…

But you’re an adult…

 Somebody else decided that.

You mean the courts?

 We’re getting off topic. Look… Let’s put it this way… If I had sired Little Jimmy I’d be two things… Unhappy… and DEAD.

 Every child I’ve ever met has been EXACTLY like Little Jimmy. Or, if they haven’t been killing me, they’ve been making loud noises.

 Every parent I’ve come across would complain about two things: The noise from the neighbours and any interesting TV show or movie.

I’ll tackle this in two sections.

1. You complain about the noise from the neighbours…

Awww… Is the sound of their hi-fi keeping you awake at night? Do you not like the nasty thud-thud noise? Is it keeping Little Jimmy awake? Well… THE SOUND OF LITTLE JIMMY SCREAMING HIS FUCKING HEAD OFF EVERYTIME HE DOES… ANYTHING… AT ALL… GETS RIGHT ON MY TITS.

 You’d complain if I smoked on the plane… “Oh, EXCUSE ME… I don’t want to breathe your secondhand smoke… I’m trapped in here and you’re GIVING ME CANCER”…

Hmmm… well…. Let me answer it this way… “I’m TRAPPED ON A FUCKING PLANE WITH YOUR CHILD SCREAMING REALLY FUCKING LOUD. For some reason HE WASN’T BANNED… I want to open the door of this plane and throw him out…and you know what? I’d smoke a cigarette while I did it because you’d have your PRECIOUS VENTILATION.”

2. Oh no… The media is showing bad things… must protect my children…

Right… Happy People with Children… DO NOT LIKE ANYTHING THAT WILL PUNCTURE THEIR CHILD’S BUBBLE. Thus nobody on TV can say the word “fuck” anywhere on the face of the planet before 9pm. Even then, it will be before 9pm somewhere on Earth and so someone will complain.

 Do you realize your child already knows the word “fuck”? Yes, he does, he hears you in the next room screaming “fuck me Milkman, FUCK ME HARDER… USE THE RED-HOT POKER”… He KNOWS that word well. It haunts his dreams… That’s why the breadknife’s gone missing.

Look, you’re not a good person… These people who’ve had children… They’re happy, they’re contented… It’s nature at work.

 Wrong. It’s broken contraception at work.

 Here comes the obligatory poem:

I gave birth to a child,
They’re sweet and mild,
They do not make a terrible sound,
Nor bang their feet upon the ground.
He’s sweet and caring,
He’s kind and sharing,
Little Jimmy is a beautiful soul,
On his little Trike he’ll happily roll,
Up and down the hallway,
While to the devil he will pray,
Foretold my death he just did,
Oh, I’m glad I had a kid.

Now he’s four and oh so loud,
He stabbed a short man in the crowd,
He paints the wall with stranger’s blood,
Another’s dead, judging by that thud.
He keeps bringing home lots of whores,
And last week murdered half the Corrs.
Little Jimmy has a taste for flesh,
Which he strains through fine steel mesh.
I’m not sure what will happen next,
His psychotic poems have me vexed.
Like that one about the devil,
Little Jimmy ain’t on the level.

“Oh hi there Jimmy, that’s a nice knife,
Now you’re twenty you should find a wife,
No wait… that’s not very nice,
Stop dissecting all those mice.
What’s that Jimmy, You’re going to kill me?
And then douse my corpse with your own pee?
Don’t make me send you to your room,
Like when you killed that stable groom.
I don’t care that the dog told you to do it…
The dining room has blood all through it,
Oh my little angel trooper.
I’m glad I had you, you’re so super.

Look… In short… seriously… WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE? QUIT SMILING… YOUR LIFE IS OVER…

ARGH.