Talkin Shite In Your Own Mind

The Art of Talking Utter Shite: A Masterclass in Self-Delusion.

There’s a certain magic to witnessing someone talk complete and utter shite. It’s an art form really - a strange alchemy of confidence and cluelessness that makes the person spewing it think they’re dishing out wisdom of Shakespearean proportions. But to everyone else? It’s like watching a car crash in slow motion: horrifying, yet you can’t look away.

Now, I know what you're thinking: "But Matt, isn't this whole blog post about talking shite?" And to that, I say: touché. But I’m talking about the truly delusional - the people who hit 'publish' on something that, in their mind, is the greatest piece of literature ever conceived. They probably sit back, smug grin plastered on their face, imagining their future as the next viral sensation, while the rest of us stare blankly at the screen, wondering if we just lost brain cells reading it.

You know the type. The ones who post 20-paragraph Facebook rants about "the government’s secret plan to make pigeons bigger" as if they’ve just cracked open the Da Vinci Code. Or those who write blog posts so convoluted you’d need a PhD just to figure out what the hell they’re even saying—spoiler alert: they don’t know either.

It’s a special breed of person who can churn out absolute rubbish while genuinely believing it’s gold. The delusion is, in itself, impressive. They’re the literary equivalent of someone who burns toast and then tries to pass it off as gourmet cuisine. You have to admire the confidence, if nothing else.

For us poor sods who have to read their drivel, it’s like wading through a swamp of nonsense, where every sentence drags you deeper into a bog of confusion and despair. The sheer commitment to spouting crap is remarkable. You can almost see them hunched over their keyboards, pouring their heart and soul into a manifesto on why cats secretly control the stock market.

The worst part? They’re convinced they’re making history. They’ll say things like, “This is the post that’ll change everything.” Meanwhile, you’re halfway through reading it, questioning not only their sanity, but your own for continuing.

So, here’s to the people talking utter shite. They might be delusional, but they’re entertaining. And maybe, just maybe, there’s a part of us that envies their shameless self-belief. Because in their world, they’re literary gods.

For the rest of us, though? It’s just dross.

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