New Moanier is a disease I’m suffering from. I’ve had it most of my life and I think it may be hereditary as my mother suffered from it as well. Every day, this ailment compels me to have a new moan about something. It may be an entirely new moan, or simply a new moan about an old problem, but my affliction makes the moan impossible to resist. There are those who may believe my real problem is Tourette’s syndrome, given that I’m prone to using a great deal of profanity, but no, my proclivity for cussing can be traced back to my New Moanier condition, which also leads to rage, bitterness, self-pity, fits of melancholy and lots and lots of swearing.
My New Moanier is generally under control to some degree, but is apparently aggravated by weekends and the consumption of cheap alcohol. I have had at least two attacks this weekend and have also been inebriated twice this weekend and it doesn’t take great powers of deduction to put two and two together and come up with “miserable drunk”.
Alcohol is taken in the hope of alleviating my New Moanier, but has the reverse effect, aggravating it to a point where I am unable to resist pouring my heart out in a most unedifying and embarrassing manner. I think a possible cure for my New Moanier lays in a large lottery win and an escape from my circumstances, but sadly, this is not available on the NHS and something of a long shot in the order of “don’t hold your breath sunshine”.
I have regularly asked onlookers to ignore my New Moanier rants and wails of gloom, allowing them to go un-commented on and ignored, as one would with a large pimple on the end of a friend’s nose, but they continue to elicit messages of support and the offering of advice, etc, which I suppose is only to be expected given that New Moanier often makes me sound as though I am about to jump from the nearest window while slashing my wrists and swallowing drain cleaner. I can assure you, I have no such intention.
For the time being, it looks as though I am stuck with my New Moanier condition and will have new moans at regular intervals, generally on Friday and Saturday nights when several hours have been spent at the barmaid’s apron.
I would, once again, dear reader, ask that you ignore these whining, whingeing, complaints as the symptoms of a disorder and not a reflection of my true character. They say that when a person believes in nothing, they will believe in anything and I can assure you that when a person (this person) has no one to talk to for months on end, they will spill their guts to anyone – and boy do I.
As for Tourette’s, I most certainly do not shit fuck arse suffer from Tourette’s.