Winning is not enough is the book by Jackie Stewart which documents how he won lots of things. And how he was highly successful at everything from talking about fast things going around like it was all just one big scalextric and then leading a big racing firm to do things which again involved driving around and around again.

And fair play to him. If someone can make a living out of something like that and be successful you cannot begrudge someone who does that. We may sneer and snip at it, but it is a talent never the less. He was in Birmingham today signing his book, I must admit I didn’t stick around for that after the training course I had today, he’s not someone I look up to or am interested in.

Of course one of the best sayings we plucky Brits have come up with in recent years is:

It’s not the winning that’s important. It’s the taking part that counts.

In this day and age where school sports have been reduced to the point where we all are winners despite taking three days to wobble 100 metres, it appears that we are all meant to say well done for practically anything. No-one is better than anyone else and that we are all equal in achievement.

Well sorry dear people that is complete and utter balls. Some are successful because they are actually trying hard to achieve what they want. Others get what they want through no effort what so ever, and then that leaves the rest of us cursing the fact that other people have simply done what we all want to do but ultimately, cannot be arsed to do.

The only thing that is equal to all is death. Death doesn’t care what you have done in this world, whether you found the cure for cancer or a new recipe involving pot noodles, a Twix and wood chippings.

In the end, it takes you away without remorse or pity. It is the also the most unfair, yet fair system that the universe has. It’s unfair that they take away people who have yet to experience all that lfie has to throw at them, that they don’t have the chance to finish whatever they start or reach whatever potential they have.

And yet, it is the most fair thing to happen because there is no discrimination. We are all going to die sooner or later, it’s just a question of how and when. But we will keep clinging on for however long we can, because that’s the human will to survive, breed and make sure that the human race goes on.

That’s why people repeat the whole dating thing, getting married and getting the little bastards shitting on your car roof, because at the end of the day, it’s all in the genes and it kind of makes you think, is that the point of life? To simply make sure that you reproduce?

You start wondering about all the achievements people make, by they small or huge and wonder if it was all just to impress the opposite sex enough to do naughty often enough for the little tadpoles things inside Mr. Penis to storm the oval castle and take up residence in the unsuspecting woman’s stomach.

I know they do education about what’s going to happen, but to squeeze the resultant child thing from something that normally only is a inch or so wide I think most women really don’t to think about that sort of thing, and know that in the time of crisis, the drugs are their friends.

I suppose the upside of the children is that when you are old and the whole generations of family are dining out at a resonably priced resturant, you can just turn to you son/daughter and say “I just pissed myself, you need to change the bag before I empty it all over your dinner.” At least that’s my little slice of fried gold for when my system starts failing and I forget even more than I do now.

They hopefully would be there at the end when it’s getting either light or dark, whatever the hell goes on and the last noise they hear is a really long fart. Nice. If I’m going out, I want to have a smile on my face. But there in lies the issue.

Granted it maybe the natural thing in the genes again, but I am scared of dying. To the point of losing sleep at various nights and times. It’s the one thing that actually does keep me awake even when the body wants to conk out to regenerate and prepare for the next day’s slaughter, my mind won’t let it. It’s because there is a very very good chance that this life is it.

Nothing else lies beyond what we do now, so to disappear into nothing-ness, that to me, is truly terrifying. All our experiences, our dreams, our corrupted minds hell bent on world domination, it’s all gone. But what can I do? Nothing what so ever.

Unless I get to regenerate like Doctor Who. Anyone know the number for that plucky timelord?

I guess I just felt in a mood to write this sort of thing today. Having been falling asleep most of the day, I felt I needed waking up. This sort of thing does. Does it wake you up too?