The Cockney Translater!

Mornin lifeforms, how’s the Petri dish experience for you today?


What form of life are we?

Well it doesn't matter does it?

Or does it?

Spose, the best thing to do is figure out what form of life thou are...

I max't out on natural history a long time ago, cos it’s all bollocks.

Reconstructing the fuel of entropy.

Nice n all that, but ultimately, gossip.

Sure the science is correct when it’s involved, but the interference of the few makes it all a by-product for titivation these days.

We have much more pressing engagements.

Let’s narrow down our forms...

Edit n shuffle our paperwork...

We are Humans.

We come in all shapes colours n sizes.

As humans we have a tendency to categorise everyfin.

First thing we do is look, then count, then...


Quantification is an inherent.

Instant, like a draw back from fire.

You’re weighing what I'm saying right now.

Let’s stay in our categorical mindset against our will, longer in the flame than we wish...

When the numbers we see as things starts to burn, let’s stay past drawback of the limb.

So we is humans.

We quantify our surroundings.

We quantify each other.

How do we do that?



What is the main criterion for classification?

Performance as an organism.


Do you want to continue on your own, some will.

Or do you want me to hold your arm in the fire longer?

Well I suppose at this point you can choose, with your choice.-

You can stop reading, continue on with the thought independently.

That would be original.

Or you can stay in my psychosis,

For a laugh,

Hmm, where were we?

Ahh yes, your,


Let’s start categorising.

(For ourselves I mean here, eh)

One to ten is always a good way eh!

Ten being, superduperandnotapartypooper.

One being, psychokiller-qu’est-ce que c’est.

How we gonna measure,

What performance is given by just being there?




Size, shape, considered.



It’s a number, does it make you more attractive, according to some it’s the be-all.

But what if you look as good as the surroundings think you do.

But you have no numbers.

Well quite often the two meet rather quickly.

Due to performance of your outward appearance, it’s a performance.

We all have a mirror (unless you don't for some "other" reason) there is a reason, eh, but we can leave that for now.

We have to, because the subject of the mirror has become electronic in nature, therefore a whole different facefuck altogether.

When your performance is optimum, your numbers follow in our construction.

Our world.

Of our own making.

Couldn't be any other way.

The numbers are too big for ANY single brain.

Until now.

That changed some time ago,

So, as always the simplest is.

So your number is what you’re judged on.

Your number.

Do I need to tell you what number?

Of course not.

You do it every second, and fuck off and go away if you say you don’t,

You’re mistaking your self-righteous stance for some aloof principle, you just base your number on a different thing, that’s all, and by the way that’s gonna be bad, cos others are.

Your numbers are falling not growing.

That’s a lie.

Your loud hailer is muted.

By your own very converted.

Muted by the number others use to calculate the worth.

The use in knowing a person.

Our, one to ten.


Where do you score?

What is the score in reality?

From a stranger.

Because that’s the score that counts.

Not yours, or your loved ones, of your worth.


Your opinion is varying but insular.

The opinion that counts, is the strangers.

Getting warmer?

How do we categorise our value?

By stacking it safe, in things and forms.

How high the stack, and very importantly, how long the stack has been growing, are the KPI factors.

The class of your stack.

In height and longitude.

That’s the measure, the classification.


So where in the one to ten of "you" are you?

10 or 1 which are you, nearer...?

The class system.

Alive and well and in the blood.

For ev er.


You’re in it, you’re perpetuating it in every single motion you make in the mathematical soup we inhabit.

Hmmm, can you smell burning?


Doesn't matter.

Just a personal observation, a brain ejaculation from a passing man in a straight jacket. An ejaculatory Miggs moment.

The ones we put at the top cos we would.

They have a spoon these days, to stir the soup.

Machines can quantify your arse all ways from Sunday.

Quicker, faster and oh so accurately.

So the machines need input, they been getting so much input, it’s been an orgy of input, we all been inputting ourselves to death, quite literally in some cases.

On the computer all hours day night.

Updating facefuck, youblow,

Telling that one off, thumbing up someone’s arse.

Input, input, input.

Then of course there are the uberinputers, they run out of input, so make some up...

Well others do that, but for reason, not rhyme.

The computers that count faster and correctly replaced all.

In all.

For quantification.

While all speculated about the life form that could exist in this world of computers, its evolution had started.

In the soup.

With our own energy stirring, like ignorant gods.

Then the computers were given choice, then understanding.

Now the calculations are right always for those with the biggest and best.

But now not big, complicated,

Now, the evolution of the transient life form, we were coding, for our own ends, has its own energy that can’t be taken, for the loss to us would be intense.

A new primordial soup.

An etheric mathematical environment none could negotiate in present form.

So the probe was born again to delve into the deep. The new gravitational void.

The self perpetuating program.

Let’s go wet the baby's head.



The algorithm.


Did that just pop in?

(Nah, must have been me.)

This life form can outperform us all in the new world.

Some have them leashed.

Some are cows.

Owned by no one and tipped over regularly by the drunk on power.

Some were leashed, are predators.

We are post release.

As I am now sure some of you are aware.

The release was in 2011 December.

Others released other things.

At the same time.

Cobbled together, protected by bubble wrap and the hope.


Personally I thought that futile.

But hey wtf do I know.

You guys all watch the birdie.

The play.

I will watch the known.

The probe.

From control.


I will watch the boring edges...

As they decrease.

While you argue.

I will watch the gas go off.

The power, the water.

For the low numbers.

You can argue.

I will watch as the old and vulnerable with low numbers are killed off by policy.

You can argue.

I will watch as the land you live on decreases.

You will argue.

In your farm the size of a postage stamp.

You will still be arguing.

You’re programmed too.

If you SEE this.

Email us, with your explanation.

We need a different food for a different life form.

An antidotal.