A manifestation of everything that is wrong and right

Editor's note: Happy Ahmed submitted this piece for the writing competition. It was a spirited but terrifying runner up.

It's on, motherfuckers. After several weeks of languishing face down in a number of insightful and reflective spurts of mildly abrasive social and political repartee, Happy Ahmed has consolidated his lovable, light hearted, self-masturbatory demeanour. After tiring of the notoriously heady deepness required to create such informative and well-researched scripts to you, the incurably turgid masses, Happy Ahmed will hereto-forth compose these little slices of genius in the manner alluded to by his tediously obtuse moniker. Yeah I mean happily, you thick cunt.

Happy Ahmed is your very own resident wordy misogynistic cunt with nothing much to prove; your own personal Marshall Mathers minus the chauvinistic homophobic bravado. You, the lowliest scumdogs in the known universe, will accordingly marvel at the astounding literary aptitude of my latest oeuvre and be suitably impressed should you chance upon me at any of our fine university facilities which I may or may not be plotting to destroy. Email Happy Ahmed for the latest information on covert sabotage and nihilistic anarchist operations on campus. Likewise e-mail Happy Ahmed if you can think of a spectacular name for a group which may or may not be plotting to overthrow the vice-chancellor and declaring school out for summer before getting drunk and setting fire to our collective beards in a gesture rivalling the feminists burning brassieres to contravene the oppression of perky breasts.

On social conditioning:

You're making the world a dirty place and making babies in other peoples' countries and moulding a world around yourself instead of adapting and you personify a filthy movement towards consumerism and globalisation and other naughty corporate things. You are oblivious to the tumultuous situation in Uganda, and epidemics of hatred and murderous agendas of dictatorial self benefit and narcolepsy and famines and the herpes.

It really is quite disturbing that as we mature, every aspect of our development is policed by aspects of society that wants us to turn out "right". Imagine yourself squirted through enormous meat curtains onto a conveyer belt conveying you forth upon the assembly line of your life. At certain stages these authoritative robotic arms move menacingly and weld shit to you in a shower of sparks like the desire to achieve and to be nice to people and to like kittens and to not hate the darkies and be good to your aunty. At the end your parent/s or guardian/s are presented with this precious little parcel of discordant morality in which they have invested so much and are secure in the knowledge that you will merge nicely into the society that created you.

You spent your formative years adopting other peoples' ideals, values, and knowledge through public and/or private schooling, church, sports, and various moderate family media - society influences every aspect of your development. Only now do you really get a chance to expand yourself and discover what really drives you and the things that you love and you choose to spend that time reading puerile rubbish like this which completely undoes all that hard work. Won't your parents be disappointed?

Happy Ahmed is going to steal a lot of Ritalin and run away to become some filthy hermit, discarding the ideals that society heaps upon him in an act of truth to self and an experiment in exclusive morality. I shall look at kiddie porn and scratch myself in public and covet your mother and pick and steam myself a sizeable penis gourd and build a nice hut in a forest and sit and contemplate the nature of things and shout obscenities at people that aren't there. All the while remaining deeply philosophical and considering the consequences of my varied and seemingly random actions and whether or not there is some other formula for successful society than that which is only too familiar.

Maybe one day you'll all grow enough awareness of yourselves and the systems that influence you to be able to think independently, but until then you'll need despicable cunts like Happy Ahmed to point at you and laugh . Like a dirty drunken Mexican with a handlebar moustache and near-empty tequila bottle biffing rocks at rally cars who has just hit Colin McRae's windscreen.

Happy Ahmed is too busy sniffing Satan's soiled underpants to care. Maybe I'm the new rock 'n' roll. I have a voice and I choose to use it to direct vague accusations against almost everyone. Take that.

On drinking:

The "I love you man" syndrome raises its ugly head and smiles sheepishly like your friend caught masturbating over pictures of your mother. Emotional control relinquished, the drink leaves you poignantly naked and spread-eagled, whilst your friends delight in malicious and nefarious amateur cinematography.

Sexual encounters can become awkward. It may seem like an amazingly funny idea at the time to dramatically and spectacularly come in her eye then slap her face with your moist and spent penis, but if you ever meet again, your red dragon antics will result in an atmosphere so thick even Dubya could get the better of it.

Society, at least the type that makes the rules, frowns upon drunkenness. It is uncivilised, unsophisticated, and generally the folly of lesser citizens, and some farm animals. One should never lose control of oneself in company. The Joneses would bound into the lead. To these people I say: "fuck you". Loudly. With a raised jug in one hand and an uncompromising slur in the other. The reason that we are discouraged from alcohol, and indeed from any other drug is nothing to do with our own safety. Nothing to do with our health. Nothing to do with danger to others. It's about our predictability and control.

I say fuck them. Drink. A lot. Take a running dive headlong into the festering and rancid toilet bowl of drunken chaos. Rob from your neighbours and kill your friends. Fondle people passed out in bus shelters. Lie, cheat, drink and drive, don't vote, leave the seat up, spank your lecturers, sell your mother, invade an Arab country. Go to the pub every day. See you there. Cunts.

On women:

Die screaming with sharp things in your head. A common sentiment. Mistreated and frankly overused. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Piffle and poppycock. Hell hath no fury like a freshly circumcised sleep deprived adult grizzly bear on amphetamines with an essay due in 2 hours, being assaulted (aurally and otherwise) by George Bush dressed as a clown and singing particularly vile covers of crap songs and wielding an electric cattle prod.

Women are the scourge of the earth. Cause of numerous wars and three quarters of all car accidents. Tolerated only because they possess a dark moist bag where children live until they get tired of the smell. Had this not been the case, natural selection would have had his wicked way with them long ago. Romanticism? Fuck off. Timothy Leary once said, "women who seek to be equal with men lack ambition". He was so chewed on Lysergic Acid Diethylamide, he also thought that clouds were a pretty neat idea. Equality is a myth. It's like saying sheep and llamas can be the same. Sheep are tastier, but llamas are more useful. That's just the way it is. This is irrefutable. Happy Ahmed says so.

Suffering mass hypnosis of the unsuspecting and trusting male. Docile and unassuming, he is beguiled into idiotic behaviour and dancing like a muppet in the noble pursuit of a quiet place to whet his cock 'n' balls. The she-spider, coy and cunning, the harlot mates. As the male is experiencing the epiphany of climax with a very silly expression, the arachnid wench bites his head off. Not content at merely killing her hapless mate, she proceeds to eat him, balls and all. Spiteful slut that she is. Alas, she can't help it, blame nature. Mother nature.

We suckle upon her dangling teat, yet at the same time try to set fire to it. Mother Nature is the unwieldy slut that spawned us all from painfully frothing primordial discharge. Omnipotent yet helpless, suffering yet beautiful, nurturing yet oh so delicious. Perhaps women are the essence of the newborn - dribbling, messy, and foul smelling, yet at the same time too cute and pathetic to put out of their misery with a good solid crack with a two by four. Though a succinct backhand works wonders.

A frustratingly symbiotic relationship, boy and girl get on like mouse and trouser leg, like sputum and fraenulum, like pork and pie. No retreat, no surrender, just soldier on at the whims and delights of the little general.

On music:

Pop music, eh? Mindless disposable anthems for a generation of brain-dead fuckwits and trendy socialite whores, lapping hungrily at the seeping vagina of the music industry. Pisswilly music for the masses, written to a precise chemical formula like aural novocaine. Distil equal parts commercialism and consumerism into a crap DJ.s mixer and just add naive impressionable youth.

This is you. Do not deny it. Time to be educated. You're a fluffy little pop happy slut motherfucker just like everyone else and you know it. This makes you a bad person. The U.S plays heavy metal to Iraqi captives to make the fuckers talk. It's culturally offensive. If that's not a reason to listen to it, I don't know what is. There is something to be said for vocals that sound like a cat with its asshole on fire. If the music makes you want to kill yourself or someone else, it's almost certainly good for society. Make sure you get your whole head in front of the shotgun.

Listening to anything screamed about a Paralytic Scatological Blowjob is certainly going to make you exponentially cooler than some soppy lullaby whinging like a closet homo about undying love for that special-retarded-girl-with-a-limp-but-lovely-eyes. Happy Ahmed postulates that the only reason that this type of music is popular is that the vast majority of the population are indescribably stupid - something he would happily debate if any of you dribbling dunces could stop scratching your collective pestilent apathetic buttocks long enough to e-mail him.

Pop music frolics gaily hand in hand with your insipid celebrity fascinations and dull masturbation habits; soon enough you'll all be sipping latte with your 1.5 children, mortgage, and migraine. Fuck the nuclear family. Welcome to nuclear society. You're all clones. You behave predictably. The government have mathematicians who can write equations which accurately model your entire life.

How does it feel to be part of a machine? You're born, consume, pay taxes, and die. You get horribly offended by alternative media. You hate the word cunt. You live, breathe and shit popular culture. Your entire purpose is to lower the average intelligence quotient of society. Feel like a cunt. Feel dirty. Your mother does.

On racism:

I am a nigger. Part of the social flotsam that jettisons from the redundant viscera of a Eurocentric world order. A vulgar by-product of belligerent reactionary colonisation. The choking slick of modern industry on the surface of our ocean. The bloated buoyant excreta in Ethiopian drinking water. The Kurds in Turkey's way.

And I don't like you. In fact I hate you. Every aspect of your existence makes me want to delicately disembowel you with a shovel then heartily ram a pickaxe through your spinal column leaving you bleeding profusely in a ditch. You are apathetic, lazy and stupid. Does this make Happy Ahmed a racist? Or just a violent and surly cunt? It seems the unimaginative are all too eager to play the accusatory racist trump.

The proclamation of a healthy hatred of a particular group by no means constitutes racism. Bigotry, intolerance, and petulance maybe, but not necessarily racism. Happy Ahmed might vehemently express his dislike for you and people like you or their actions, characterising you by your most distinguishing feature. You may be described as a honky. Or a whitey. That doesn't mean I hate you because you are white. I hate you because you are thick / irritating / retarded / female / a cunt.

The abject tyranny of political correctness murderously asphyxiates us with sugary pleasantries and tedious nomenclature. We are suffocating under an increasingly voluminous mountain of protocol. Contemporary society is defined by our extreme trepidation for inflicting offence. Upon anyone. Likewise, the pretence of offence is a manipulative social and political tool. We should just revert to big lumps of wood with nails in them.

Racism is a modern development, a symptom of an increasingly diverse and sophisticated world, one which natural dullards and the dunces-by-choice find threatening and terrifying. It's an irrational fear of change and difference. Take immigration - people are shitting their pants over the "Asian invasion" and express their hatred of Asian immigrants. Of these people, misguided as they may be, few are actual racists.

Given that we as people are prone to group together and form .us and them. sub-societies it is natural to distrust and dislike other similar groups. Think rugby. Perhaps it is primal. Perhaps we just pay too much heed to scaremongering media. Collective fear stimulates herd instinct, which tends to produce ferocity toward those who are not regarded as members of the herd. Hence the victimisation of immigrants.

All problems eventually filter down to human stupidity. You can quote me on that. This pseudo-racism only exists because people are too stupid to make the distinction between a subset and a population. Real racism, and I'm talking holocausts, segregation, and sperm-like white outfits, is comparatively extremely rare; and it's all caused by fear and idiocy.

To counter this newly identified threat, Happy Ahmed will adapt American foreign policy to a larger scale. He proposes a new system of globally enforced evolution based on principles of natural selection whereby those deemed too stupid to live will henceforth be fed into furnaces and used to power cities and create various fine crafts. This will not only have the effect of abolishing political correctness and racism-proper, but will joyously endanger the entire American population. There is no racism involved, although various thickies and other vile liberals will undoubtedly label this policy as one of the other passéisms that political correctness regularly shafts me with (genocidalism?).

Fuck them. I will label it "operation enduring comprehension" and try and get it passed as law in Texas. Happy Ahmed hears they'll pass any old rubbish there. The effect will be societal buoyancy unheard of in modern times. And Happy Ahmed will be there grinning down upon the carcasses of the unworthy and stoking the roaring fires.

On the trendy kids:

The cacophony of ten thousand horny baboons with lard anointed genitalia making coxed mating calls through ten thousand loudhailers pales in comparison to the shrieking fury of Happy Ahmed's internal frustration. Paradoxical perhaps, but the sentiment is clear.

Seldom in life may you realise the existence of some unequivocal manifestation so potent in its lucidity that your entire life perspective is forever altered to its perversely extreme detriment. I am that manifestation. Feel my potency.

A furiously drunken excursion one moist evening to a painfully suburban house party resulted in one beautifully explicit proverbial moment of clarity. For a split second of omnipotent splendour, Happy Ahmed was a glorious beacon of phosphorescent enlightenment in a multitude of emptinesses. Everything and nothing occurred concurrently. This joyous instant yielded the stark epiphany that I absolutely and without exception despised every person in the room.

Call them human jewellery. Their sole function is to be seen, and to look cool doing it. Contemptible pin-ups for contemporary mainstream society. An irrational symptom of a superficial micro-culture with self-important egocentric delusions of actually making a worthwhile contribution to anything. To charmingly leech from Happy Ahmed the last miniscule shreds of respect he had for humanity.

They brim with pre-rehearsed narratives without any consideration for what is actually being said. Several unrelated monologues combine to form some grotesque amalgam of arguments which by no means constitutes conversation. The interludes between spouting interpersonal public relations bulletins is spent remembering the next line rather than listening. Sporting an infuriating lack of any understanding of anything outside the sterile bubble of the limited experiences of their pampered little lives.

They were everywhere. Plastic people with plastic smiles and plastic personalities trying like plastic fuck to be seen to be doing intrinsically meaningless plastic things and preaching trivial plastic personal values that are perceived as "cool" by other plastic people that they don't know in order to be accepted into an exclusive plastic society that doesn't give a fuck about them because it in itself is too conceited and desperately attempting to maintain its exclusive position at the cutting edge of pretension. And plastic.

The room imploded. Like an eviscerated suicide bomber on slow motion rewind - and I was at the crux of this dangerously volatile system. Fuck this, escape was paramount. Happy Ahmed burst forth from this fashionable bungalow flailing his arms screaming the enraged and manic scream of a man languishing on the edge of the deepest pit of frustration and despair and has just dropped his last beer in it.

Panic set in. Sweating, hyperventilation, the fear that everything that you knew to be true and right has evaporated right in front of you and replaced by something truly repugnant. Like finding a shrivelled and hairy severed big toe in your curry. Happy Ahmed eventually regained his composure after cowering behind a pretentiously parked plastic car, and forced himself to take a peek under the skirt of reason. At about this time, Happy Ahmed decided to venture home, directing unparalleled contempt upon every further ostentatious walking stereotype he came across.

Happy Ahmed is certainly an outspoken and violent activist against the rank oppressions of mainstream culture and the way that people feel compelled to conform to some arbitrary ideal. He despises the fact that today's society has such a mindless herd mentality when it comes to such decision making. Science has proven that a large group of people is qualitatively far more stupid than an individual. Why then does the individual allow himself to be governed by the trends of the flock? Are you that desperate for acceptance that you crave it from such an immense conglomeration of abject stupidity? Call me an elitist, a cunt, whatever, but I'm not the one who's frantic to satisfy the approval conditions of a vile flock of crotch sniffing trend whores.

What do you think, did we get it right? Comment here...