As my final gesture of this year I would propose a new and uncompromisingly self-righteous morsel of vindictiveness, wishfully I would have it a valid snippet of legislation, and to dreamily one day became an act: an article of English law, irrevocable and gleefully malicious that would be punishable by the full weight of the law (which, as it stands in its stockinged feet, amounts to about 2 stone 3lbs and therefor equates, if the act were to be contravened, to a semi-public wrist-slapping and a fine of, ooh, at least several pounds).

I may be just a shade over-cynical today, you never know. The very idea of the title here serves only to alienate my meagre audience which is my fisrt act in the act of relaying the act. If I could have made a worse joke there I would have, probably involving a reference to `acting` or maybe even `acting up`. For your sake I'm not clever enough nor spiteful enough to make you sit through that, so be thankful.

Popularity, how I hate the word, the concept, the alien feelings of inate smugness all those who have any must feel without even knowing a life without it. What total, complete and utter fucktards.

Yes, I'm still generally depressed. Yes, I have been reading Stephen Fry lately, you can tell from the fruity language (not a reference to the fact that he is gay, just his language is, well, vibrantly coloured, deeply refreshing and almost certainly very good for you). He really is worth reading folks as apart from the wit and insight he is also wonderfully pompous and self-righteous and as a bizarre aside has consistently remained celibate for more years than he cares to remember. It seems we have much in common, Stephen and I

Right, the theory, such as it is, having been formulated within the last hour by a man containing too much bile for even an entire toxic waste sanitation facility to safely dispose of in one day, is this: popularity, you either got it or you ain't. It varies with each person you know and meet of course, but overall some people `are popular` and others are `smelling of effluent` or `named Hitler` or, if I stop trying to be vaguely funny for minute (and I'm aware it didn't really work) simply `pariahs` (look it up - www.dictionary.com ).
I smell a bit dodgy at times (most times, if truth be told) but I'm certainly not the relative of any demented Austrian fascists, that I'm aware of at least, and in any case I like to think I'd have had the good sense to change my name by now.
So, I just feel unpopular. But what if everyone was like me?

(by the way, I know I am not actually particularly unpopular, except with the City of Kingston Upon Hull, notably within the City Council offices with whom I had a drawn out bitching contest with once, and as a result will likely be swept up by extermination squads if I cross the city limits ever again. But that was a different lifetime, let alone a differnt country, and it's just that here, in an Indian paradise I feel ashamed to be unhappy in, I am surrounded - and I mean surrounded - by happy couples with none of my insecurities, fantastically beautiful women whose very appearance paralyses me sprout from every wave, sun lounger and beachside hut, and thousands of happy-go-lucky men and women who don't ever seem to be a prisoner of their own vicous minds and who have no problems at all striking up conversations with absolutely anyone, often simply coiling themselves around each other in blissful romance after about 8 picosecnds of apparently meaningful interaction. During these uncommon displays of joy all the while I sit somewhere on the verge of shamelessly public tears, desperately trying to avoid making my first drink of the day an event happening before 12 O'colock midday, finding myself unable to think of anything worth saying and generally wanting it all to just go away: hence my perceived status, socially, as that of a virtual leper)

Anyway lets drop the self pity for a paragraph or two shall we? Good-ho. Right - if there was no such concept as popularity:

There would be almost no envy among friends anywhere and certainly none amongst all these damnedly good-looking strangers on this beach, the concept that some people have fantastic-looking partners wouldn't matter because a) there would be a hell of a lot fewer couples, and let's face it, at the very least about 80% of all romantic relationships end up going nowhere, and b) we would all be of equal popularity (i.e. none) so there would be every chance that anyone could get with anyone. I'm liking this idea a lot, by the way.

False influence, the lack of objectivity when receiving ideas and opinions, would cease to be, and every notion and attitude could be weighed properly on scales devoid of any tactical thumb-placing, all memorials, past histories and obituarial evaluations would be viewed through glasses of mere transparence, being unhindered by pinkish tinges of the Lennon-esque reminiscence.
Jesus Christ I really have been reading too much Stephen Fry.

Pressing on (go on, make a gag about flower pressing and roses I fucking dare you): there would be none of that ugly superiority human beings are so quick to adopt; much as inferiority would be heavily cropped so would our egocentric urges to give ourselves airs and graces due to the fawning of all our social groupies, which might just be a good thing if we were to make more rational, and truly altruistic decisions.

Not only but also, the electoral system, especially in America, would return to what it always should have been and not a telegenic and photogenic experiment in mass hypnosis, peddled and perpetuated through the dark arts of hair products and advanced orthodontistry. Maybe a good but ugly leader could lead a nation more efficiently than some twat who looks good in good suits? I cite the case of Warren Harding: the immensely handsome and impressively built US President who totally fucked up everything he touched while in office. Look him up - an interesting case of what has been come to be known as `the halo effect` (itself an absolutely fascinating human behaviour).

And finally, lest you think this whole bizarre argument without any actual thought, imagine eliminating JUST popularity. Not like, or love, or personal attraction or care for others or friendliness, just the notion of popularity, that little ticker-tape counter we all carry above our heads and imagine within the minds of everyone else, the one that measures how many people like us, and how much, whether it is accurate or not we all hold an idea of it for us, and for everyone we know. How conceited and selfish and self-obsessed an idea is that? How judgemental and treachourously insecure?

I suppose it's almost as self-obsessed as someone writing an article about eliminating it.
Almost, but not quite.