|manifestos >> original goblin|
A spectre is haunting Europe- the spectre of dickheads. Everywhere cadres of townies are springing up. The towns of Europe are echoing with the sounds of interminable hen nights. Workers are employed in jobs wrongly described as 'dynamic' or 'rewarding and challenging.' The counter culture is being subverted. Legions of right wing goons proudly wear the hammer and sickle or 'Che' when twenty years ago they just wouldn't have had the balls. Today, the discerning, conscientious citizen faces a stark choice. Either to suspend disbelief, and throw all energy into a desperate struggle for a 'good job.' Internships must be gained, work experience gainfully accumulated and the soul sacrificed in order to get that media job or the endlessly fascinating high powered accountancy jobs. Or to fight a losing battle, deny yourself material wealth, hold tea parties for the third world, fly kites outside nuclear bases and get called 'comrade' by halfwits who just want to have a good ruck with the police. If you don't dream of owning your first suit, or singing protest songs in Burma, then join the goblin's evil laughter…
The Goblin does not claim to represent any group of people. It does not even claim to stand for the goblin community, since it was expelled from its tribal hole after an unfortunate incident with a loincloth. The goblin stands against jobs with silly multinational names that we're all supposed to crave (Deloitte and Touche, GlaxoSmithKline, PriceWaterhouseCoopers, Blablabla), jobs with silly multinational names that we're supposed to avoid (McDonalds, Subway, AsdaWalmart). The goblin refuses to meet targets, give great customer service, be focussed and dynamic, deal calmly with any situation, in any job whose sole purpose is to make vast profits for a bunch of lapsed hippies in California. It would rather sit on the fucking dole than have to succumb to all that bullshit.
The goblin spits from a great height on people who have 'mad' nights out, likewise entertainments that may be considered 'banging.' The Goblin does not like anything with Burberry (see also Ben Sherman, Rockport, YSL, etc.) Why Goblin? Because anybody who comes up with a kind of beige tartan and finds it attractive should be killed for total lack of aesthetic originality. The Goblin itself, is not a creature pleasing to the eye. It is green and slimy, and covers itself in unkempt rags. But it does not pledge allegiance to the clan McBurberry because it is has less money than sense. (see above)
The Goblin does not propose any ethical solution to all life's badnesses. Indeed, the goblin suggests the most ethical thing you could do after reading this is probably to go and hang yourself, since your very existence perpetuates misery for all the poor goblins in 'third world' countries, who don't have enough money to buy themselves little burberry sets. The Goblin finds all these sorts of problems far too intractable, and scratches its squashy green head about ways to make a real difference. It rather wishes it was 1968, and students went round throwing cobbles for communism and demanding the impossible realistically, rather than feverishly filling in little forms saying how enthusiastic they are about being a fucking accountant. However, until someone somewhere formulates some exciting revolutionary programme, or thinks of something practical to change things, the goblin is content to sit back and laugh it little green ass off, at least in a bitter kind of way. For anyone who wishes to align themselves with the goblin faction- this is for you.