There are so many amazing charities and great organisations floating around these days that it’s super hard to keep track of… let alone decipher which ones are too legit to quit and not just some Nigerian fraudulent scam requiring all your bank details in return of a sum of money you can’t compute or pronounce because it has too many zeros on the end! Charity is a big deal and I’m all for supporting the cause… but how about you stop making me feel like a complete arsehole when you’re shaking your tin in my local town centre, and I feel the gut wrenching guilt to give you my last 5 quid I was saving for a McChicken Sandwich meal. Yep… charity emotionally ruins me. And it’s ALL about me.
Firstly charity is not just charity but a competition as there are clearly some organisations supporting cancer patients that win all day long! You could be telling me about poor ‘Rover’ the dancing blind retarded dog who is chained to a lamppost and eats potatoes every day… but as soon as you throw the cancer story at me and show me a video clip of a chemotherapy patient, then as far as I’m concerned... Rover the dancing dog probably deserves everything he gets!
Street fundraisers are funny folk… and they also do my fudging head in. You may just be a struggling shit as fuck drama student earning some extra cash for the summer… but jump in front of me again with so much enthusiasm and volume to rival the Cillit Bang dude, and I will beat you down with your shitty clipboard! It’s like running the bloody gauntlet walking down the high street. The trick is to just keep your head down, avoid all eye contact and if you are stopped then point to your watch and say you are running late for that completely made up appointment of yours. We all know that awkward moment when you make eye contact with the Big Issue dude… so don’t even try it! I remember being stopped by a lady in London as I was waiting for a friend, and no amount of pretending I was on my phone deterred her smiley face approaching me. She just launched into why Hare Krishna’s are amazing… so I was like sure… they are great tambourine shakers often lifting my mood when walking through Soho. She then hands me this book and I thought it was free so I took it and put it in my bag. But oh no no… the crazy bint turns around and says that it will cost me £3! Listen lady… unless you are gonna give me a KFC variety meal in exchange for my 3 quid, then jog the hell on! Her protesting of ‘but it’s for charity’ fell on deaf ears as I swiftly handed back her Hare Krishna marketing material with a look of “keep the change you filthy animal!”
But I digress…
The power of charitable events on television whether huge occasions like Children in Need or those unnecessarily long NSPCC ads you get inbetween music videos on MTV... not only have the ability to make me hand over copious amounts of cash… but it also evokes salty tears of guilt. It’s like I will be longing for a bout of malaria or HIV just so I wouldn’t feel so shit about my impeccable healthy existence. And just when you have calmed yourself down from the Lenny Henry documentary of a single blind mother living with cancer who has become a prostitute to support her 5 starving kids… you then get hit with a horrific soul destroying video montage of skeletal African kids with flies buzzing around their malnourished bodies, accompanied with the backing track of fucking Adele! Yeah sure… because that isn’t gonna break my heart at all! Comic Relief my ass! Me being unable to breathe through the tears is not funny... not even a little bit.
SO in conclusion… charity is great and all… helps people blah blah… but I also think it is just a manipulative selfish charade as it disregards my ridiculous hormonal imbalance making me cry like a bitch.