Give it a name, bitch.

The problem we have as a bunch of people is that we are completely superficial. Everything we do is for show or because we are scared. We are little translucent beings inside a slab of monster person-meat looking out the eye-holes with two levers in front of us - one says FEAR and one says PUSSY. And we yank away at these two little levers making the meat-slab dance or eat or shut the fuck up in a meeting or wipe it’s arse or get a haircut or dab at the corner of it’s mouth while cancer climbs up its leg from the inside and turns its lung into a home for horny spiders.

Yay.

So embracing that superficiality I have decided to become a NAMER. It’s a thing. What? Look, none of the jobs you have now even existed 20 years ago you ‘Freelance Social Media Content Editor Creationalist Ideator Chieftain’. Here’s a hint: if you type your job description into your computer and spell check identifies a word that isn’t a word – that angry little squiggly line under that made up nonsense word means that you and I need not call each other on our respective bullshit or this whole house of cards will tumble down faster than a clothing factory in Bangladesh. So fuck you – I’ve pulled the PUSSY leaver and I’m all horny to be a NAMER to impress people (that I’m scared of) at parties that I hate being at.

NAMERS are increasingly more important as the world becomes more crowded and less differentiated. The key reason for the role is to make things seem different or better even though they are exactly the same or, in most cases, worse.

The NAMERS best tool is to push two words together to make one word EG: ‘Edutainment’. It was invented by some French dollop who pushed breakfast and Lunch together and made Brunch – and also made a legion of girls happy and got the fucking Bellini invented at the same time. I’m not gonna be one of them.

I want to invent names for things that don’t have names. That’s manly. Then I want to do some sort of content deal with Google and make it so people have to pay everytime one of my words shows up in a document or on a video or some shit. But I’ll let the lawyers hash that out.

So here you go. My first 15 names for things. I’ll probably do more because my life is empty.

PISTAFORS: When you piss someone else’s shit off the bowl at work.

KRELP: The words you write in a in a café… in a moleskin.

ZODICKS: People that read horoscopes to other people.

ATROPHILLAS: Conversations about dreams your work mate forces you to listen to.

ZAPAATE: That gnawing feeling that you’re wearing the wrong shoes for the pants.

BALLTRUM: The cocks you draw on post it notes while your life passes you by at work.

HAGARRSAM: That mean mirror that highlights every line and wrinkle on your pasty old face.

FRIED: Pan Seared.

CRUTTLE: The promises you make to people to you just met while on high on cocaine to… “Totally go see / do / lend you / send you / introduce you to / remember you / ”

DENTRALL: The realisation that apathy is your most likeable and memorable trait.

CLENCT: The intense hatred you have of other races that you’re sure, because it’s you, isn’t actually racism.

RUNTLE: The pathetic voice your voice turns into when you’re talking to clients.

DECIMETOR: The habitual checking and rechecking of your bank balance online.

CHOAD: The ejaculate you spill onto the carpet of the hotel room before you do anything – including unpack.

FAPPOR: That sinking drop you feel when the flavour leaves your chewing gum.

A DENNIS: Straight guys that actually like having their nipples tweaked and their balls tugged on during sex.

 PS: I’m on twitter today writing #YOLOPOEMS