Hello,
Having being disappointed by New Year fairly consistently since the age of fourteen I gave it up a few year ago. Hence why I shall be spending the evening pottering entirely and happily alone. Mind you I am pleased that it's going to be 2008 chiefly because I can't stand odd numbers. They annoy me in a way I find impossible to explain.
I did encounter a late entrant to the Most Annoying Human Being of 2007 Award earlier today. There were too many nominations to mention but a stupid cow in Tesco snuck in late and stole the title. What on earth would possess an adult female to pick up a large bar of Dairy Milk rub it over one's face whilst grunting orgasm, orgasm, orgasm and thrusting ones ample hips about? God what a loathsome oaf! Incredibly her friends saw nothing wrong with this behaviour and encouraged it by laughing. Disgusting!
My very dear friend Councillor Terry Kelly who has caused me to reach heights of incredulity I'd never thought possible before is off on one about how evil I am again. Do drop in, it's quite funny really and thanks again to Rumbold for being so kind. For those of you not familiar with Rumbold he blogs over at Pickled Politics.
Apologies to you all for my slight wobble the other day. On reflection I don't have the slightest intention of giving up blogging. I was being a big girls blouse.
As a habitual self-improver I will of course be making new year's resolutions which go as follows.
Make further progress towards starting my own charity, lose a further stone, stay sane, get eyelash extensions, write more, become self sufficient, be in a position to give up working for arseholes, be nicer to Mr Clairwil, overthrow Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, take more holidays and build a dolls house. Other than the failure to do the above this year I'm a happy little sausage -there are worse lives to live.
Right that's it for this year unless I get really bored. Good luck to you all!
Cheers
Showing posts with label hell. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hell. Show all posts
12/31/2007
11/28/2007
Fascinating Facts!
Hello,
As long term readers will be aware I occupy the strange position of living in a society where the crime rate is falling (or the statistics tell us it is), yet due to the petty criminal behaviour of a minority on the buses it seems to increase on a daily basis. Then again as bugger all is ever done about it they don't show up in the crime statistics.
But here's a set of statistics that should give car drivers an indication of just how unpleasant and deeply frightening bus travel can be.
· With a fleet of just under 1,000 buses, First in Glasgow has approximately 8,000 bus windows broken every year - an average of 23 per night.
· In addition, approximately 18,000 seats from our buses are replaced each year due to acts of vandalism.
· First has a fleet of 10,000 buses throughout the UK and Glasgow alone accounts for 40% of the Group's glass usage due to window breakages.
· In addition to the direct cost comes the resulting disruption to services and traffic congestion, fear and risk of injury to those aboard.
What these figures don't tell you about is how unpleasant it is to sit on a bus full of feral teenagers talking about 'stabbing cunts', verbally abusing passengers, throwing food and rubbish about, smoking hash and drinking. I must say I find it ironic that if someone on television says something racist the whole country foams at the mouth but God help anyone with a skin tone darker than sunbed orange who gets on a bus. Or to be accurate God help anyone female, very young or otherwise physically vulnerable with a skin tone darker than sunbed orange who gets on a bus.
There were many highlights on tonight's journey home the mother calling her toddler a 'fuckin arsehole', 'a pain in the arse' and a 'cunt' for crying. Oddly enough her constant stream of abuse and repeated kicking of the pram only seemed to make it worse. Then there were the neds up the back with their obnoxious mobile phone music and usual aggressive behaviour, the dirty Metros, chip wrappers, crisp bags and crap lying about the floor but the undoubted highlight for me was being slapped on the back of the head for no reason and being forced to join in the general disorder by bouncing the book off the culprits head and offering the young lady and her friend off the bus to er... discuss matters.
As I've been saying since last week there is a conspiracy to turn me into a fascist at large in the land. Right now I'm consoling myself with visions of shackled neds in orange boiler suits being forced to clean buses with toothbrushes by midnight I'll be at demanding prison sentences and it won't be my fault because I have low self esteem and have been driven to it by society.
Cheerio
As long term readers will be aware I occupy the strange position of living in a society where the crime rate is falling (or the statistics tell us it is), yet due to the petty criminal behaviour of a minority on the buses it seems to increase on a daily basis. Then again as bugger all is ever done about it they don't show up in the crime statistics.
But here's a set of statistics that should give car drivers an indication of just how unpleasant and deeply frightening bus travel can be.
· With a fleet of just under 1,000 buses, First in Glasgow has approximately 8,000 bus windows broken every year - an average of 23 per night.
· In addition, approximately 18,000 seats from our buses are replaced each year due to acts of vandalism.
· First has a fleet of 10,000 buses throughout the UK and Glasgow alone accounts for 40% of the Group's glass usage due to window breakages.
· In addition to the direct cost comes the resulting disruption to services and traffic congestion, fear and risk of injury to those aboard.
What these figures don't tell you about is how unpleasant it is to sit on a bus full of feral teenagers talking about 'stabbing cunts', verbally abusing passengers, throwing food and rubbish about, smoking hash and drinking. I must say I find it ironic that if someone on television says something racist the whole country foams at the mouth but God help anyone with a skin tone darker than sunbed orange who gets on a bus. Or to be accurate God help anyone female, very young or otherwise physically vulnerable with a skin tone darker than sunbed orange who gets on a bus.
There were many highlights on tonight's journey home the mother calling her toddler a 'fuckin arsehole', 'a pain in the arse' and a 'cunt' for crying. Oddly enough her constant stream of abuse and repeated kicking of the pram only seemed to make it worse. Then there were the neds up the back with their obnoxious mobile phone music and usual aggressive behaviour, the dirty Metros, chip wrappers, crisp bags and crap lying about the floor but the undoubted highlight for me was being slapped on the back of the head for no reason and being forced to join in the general disorder by bouncing the book off the culprits head and offering the young lady and her friend off the bus to er... discuss matters.
As I've been saying since last week there is a conspiracy to turn me into a fascist at large in the land. Right now I'm consoling myself with visions of shackled neds in orange boiler suits being forced to clean buses with toothbrushes by midnight I'll be at demanding prison sentences and it won't be my fault because I have low self esteem and have been driven to it by society.
Cheerio
10/22/2007
A Mysterious Incident in The Office.
Hello,
I did promise you all a tale about my irritating work colleague so here it is. I did have a sketch to accompany it but my scanner is in a huff, so you'll need to wait for that. In the meantime here goes.
On Friday morning my irritating colleague called in sick stating he'd suffered 'a fall'. For reasons that are beyond me he turned up at the office at lunch time to explain face to face that he wouldn't be in. As he was due in at 10am by lunchtime we'd all worked that out.
Imagine my surprise and delight when he appeared reeking to high heaven of drink with cuts to both sides of his face his nose and knuckles still claiming to have fallen. A story he stuck to even after the entire office had stated it was obvious he's been in a fight.
His 'story' is that he was coming back from the pub and slipped on some gravel on a 'steep hill' after which everything conveniently goes blank. Now I'm no expert on forensics, in truth I am not even incompetent in it, however how is it possible to fall on your face and not only graze both knuckles but cut one's nose quite deeply, scrape both cheekbones and get a black eye?
Being an unusually clumsy individual I am expert on the subject of falling and those injuries aren't consistent with a fall. So the question arises what fucking hero walloped him? Who is the chap? What does he drink? What happened?
I am afraid I have become obsessed with uncovering the truth. So much so that Mr Clairwil half expects to me turn up in a deerstalker which is just silly, I see myself as more in the Miss Marple mould. I have even retraced his steps from the pub and can report that there is no loose gravel and no steep hills.
I suspect I know the motive all I'm missing is the perpetrator. I will keep you posted.
I did promise you all a tale about my irritating work colleague so here it is. I did have a sketch to accompany it but my scanner is in a huff, so you'll need to wait for that. In the meantime here goes.
On Friday morning my irritating colleague called in sick stating he'd suffered 'a fall'. For reasons that are beyond me he turned up at the office at lunch time to explain face to face that he wouldn't be in. As he was due in at 10am by lunchtime we'd all worked that out.
Imagine my surprise and delight when he appeared reeking to high heaven of drink with cuts to both sides of his face his nose and knuckles still claiming to have fallen. A story he stuck to even after the entire office had stated it was obvious he's been in a fight.
His 'story' is that he was coming back from the pub and slipped on some gravel on a 'steep hill' after which everything conveniently goes blank. Now I'm no expert on forensics, in truth I am not even incompetent in it, however how is it possible to fall on your face and not only graze both knuckles but cut one's nose quite deeply, scrape both cheekbones and get a black eye?
Being an unusually clumsy individual I am expert on the subject of falling and those injuries aren't consistent with a fall. So the question arises what fucking hero walloped him? Who is the chap? What does he drink? What happened?
I am afraid I have become obsessed with uncovering the truth. So much so that Mr Clairwil half expects to me turn up in a deerstalker which is just silly, I see myself as more in the Miss Marple mould. I have even retraced his steps from the pub and can report that there is no loose gravel and no steep hills.
I suspect I know the motive all I'm missing is the perpetrator. I will keep you posted.
10/10/2007
Oh Christ!
Hello,
Those of you who have been reading my blog for a few years may remember me mentioning 'The Pervert' - a work colleague who I was convinced was involved in an incestuous relationship with his own daughter. Mercifully for my poor nerves he left.
Imagine my shock and distress as I sauntered into the office this morning to see 'The Pervert' sitting in my chair drinking a cup of tea. I can hardly credit it but he's back.
Large as life ten times as ugly and still cannot pronounce any word starting with r. He's also made himself known to a young lady who works in the place 'wepeatedly'. He talked to her about the filing system before quizzing her about her 'boyfwiends' as if she's the gang bang queen of Carntyne or something!
Why do these curses continue to plague me?
Those of you who have been reading my blog for a few years may remember me mentioning 'The Pervert' - a work colleague who I was convinced was involved in an incestuous relationship with his own daughter. Mercifully for my poor nerves he left.
Imagine my shock and distress as I sauntered into the office this morning to see 'The Pervert' sitting in my chair drinking a cup of tea. I can hardly credit it but he's back.
Large as life ten times as ugly and still cannot pronounce any word starting with r. He's also made himself known to a young lady who works in the place 'wepeatedly'. He talked to her about the filing system before quizzing her about her 'boyfwiends' as if she's the gang bang queen of Carntyne or something!
Why do these curses continue to plague me?
9/24/2007
Traumatised
Hello,
As some of you may be aware 'The Merchant City Festival' was in full swing this weekend. As a resident I'm a bit ambivalent about the whole thing. The local shops have done a roaring trade and not just the wank boutiques but paper shops and the like, we've had a street market and opera singers at the back of the close. All of which please me.
However as with all things there is a terrible, terrible downside. Every single arsehole in Glasgow has descended on the place, all weekend I've had to repress the urge to take to the streets with a loudhailer screaming 'get back to the west end cunts'. Some truly appalling music has been played live by various folk who'd be better off as accountants and worst of all I was attacked!
I was strolling along Ingram Street minding my own business when I was cornered by two chaps dressed as dogs, who proceeded to bark loudly and sniff bits of me that should be left undisturbed in public. Black affronted does not even begin to cover it. Naturally I put on my 'good sport' face but I wanted to kill them. A small crowd gathered to point and hoot at this blatant sexual assault as if what was happening was not already embarrassing enough. As you know I'm not one to point fingers but the pair of beasts have the nerve to bill themselves as 'suitable for children' -they ought to be lynched.
As a direct result of this I've been having one of my turns all evening. Nerves as per bloody usual. I expect the drama students in dog costumes have been smugging all night about making the public part of the performance. I hope they are murdered in their beds.
Cheerio
As some of you may be aware 'The Merchant City Festival' was in full swing this weekend. As a resident I'm a bit ambivalent about the whole thing. The local shops have done a roaring trade and not just the wank boutiques but paper shops and the like, we've had a street market and opera singers at the back of the close. All of which please me.
However as with all things there is a terrible, terrible downside. Every single arsehole in Glasgow has descended on the place, all weekend I've had to repress the urge to take to the streets with a loudhailer screaming 'get back to the west end cunts'. Some truly appalling music has been played live by various folk who'd be better off as accountants and worst of all I was attacked!
I was strolling along Ingram Street minding my own business when I was cornered by two chaps dressed as dogs, who proceeded to bark loudly and sniff bits of me that should be left undisturbed in public. Black affronted does not even begin to cover it. Naturally I put on my 'good sport' face but I wanted to kill them. A small crowd gathered to point and hoot at this blatant sexual assault as if what was happening was not already embarrassing enough. As you know I'm not one to point fingers but the pair of beasts have the nerve to bill themselves as 'suitable for children' -they ought to be lynched.
As a direct result of this I've been having one of my turns all evening. Nerves as per bloody usual. I expect the drama students in dog costumes have been smugging all night about making the public part of the performance. I hope they are murdered in their beds.
Cheerio
7/18/2007
A Warning Against Toying With The Occult
Hello,
A while back I mentioned that a psychic had informed me that I had someone very interesting behind me from the spirit world.
Naturally I was intrigued, so I was pleased to stumble across a different psychic who reckoned she could supply me with a drawing of my spirit guide. I duly coughed up the very reasonable £4.00 fee for this remarkable service and waited. The shocking outcome of all this is that I have a very well executed pencil drawing which appears to be of one of my ex-boyfriends. That said drawing has the same name and purports to be my 'soulmate' is, I need hardly day most distressing. Mr Clairwil could never be usurped in my affections.
Obviously I am the victim of some sort of prank. For a start a soulmate and a spirit guide are two entirely separate beasties. What worries me is who is responsible for this outrage? Why? I have of course submitted a stern email to them which has come back undelivered. It's as if they have vanished into thin air. The drawing itself is as I say very well done but every time I look at it I want to sleep with all it's friends and start pointless drunken fist fights. It can't be healthy.
I'm off to bed now though I doubt I shall ever sleep again.
Cheerio
A while back I mentioned that a psychic had informed me that I had someone very interesting behind me from the spirit world.
Naturally I was intrigued, so I was pleased to stumble across a different psychic who reckoned she could supply me with a drawing of my spirit guide. I duly coughed up the very reasonable £4.00 fee for this remarkable service and waited. The shocking outcome of all this is that I have a very well executed pencil drawing which appears to be of one of my ex-boyfriends. That said drawing has the same name and purports to be my 'soulmate' is, I need hardly day most distressing. Mr Clairwil could never be usurped in my affections.
Obviously I am the victim of some sort of prank. For a start a soulmate and a spirit guide are two entirely separate beasties. What worries me is who is responsible for this outrage? Why? I have of course submitted a stern email to them which has come back undelivered. It's as if they have vanished into thin air. The drawing itself is as I say very well done but every time I look at it I want to sleep with all it's friends and start pointless drunken fist fights. It can't be healthy.
I'm off to bed now though I doubt I shall ever sleep again.
Cheerio
7/01/2007
Terror Attacks Cause Outbreak Of Drivel On The Web!
Hello,
I have been following the coverage of the terror attack at Glasgow Airport with some interest. Against my better judgement I took a trip over to the BBC news 'Have Your Say' bit. Oh Lord! There are times when I think free speech is a terrible error. Then I think again and conclude that if everyone else is going to talk total nonsense who am I to swim against the tide?
First up we have people attempting to get to the root cause of why the airport was attacked. Quite frankly I think someone in authority should take these 'experts' at their word and send them to Guantanamo Bay for having a suspicious level of insider knowledge. I realise that's a bit unfair given that they're talking frightful rot but it's better than them being allowed to air their views and mislead impressionable children and other vulnerable people.
A popular explanation is of course the Iraq War. Quite why someone who felt that way would attack a country which has just elected a devolved government that are vocal opponents of the Iraq war is not explained or I suspect given any consideration. Something of an own goal for the terrorists there I'd have thought, if they were in a tizzy about Iraq.
Whilst I believe that situations like the Iraq War and so on don't do recruitment to terrorist organisations any harm at all they are not the root cause of Islamist terror. There are times when I'm tempted to start supporting the war in Iraq to distance myself from 'Iraq bores'. Honestly if I were to mention that the telly was a bit dull last night I wouldn't be surprised if someone responded well of course what do you expect when we've killed all those poor Iraqis.
There are loads of folk with solutions to the problem. Like ID cards. Saints preserve us. Asylum Seekers are presently obliged to carry ID cards and it doesn't appear to have had much bearing on terrorism prevention in the UK. In any case, is someone mad enough to set fire to themselves likely to be deterred by someone knowing who they are? I cannot see many future terror plots being abandoned with the words 'drat those infidels and their ID cards'.
The deport everyone brigade are out in full. Quite how this would sort out homegrown terrorists is unclear. What do they expect the government to do? Approach some Muslim country and explain 'we're having a spot of trouble with some Islamist terrorists and we thought with you being Muslims you wouldn't mind importing a selection of violent British nutters'. Somehow I can't see that one working. If someone who isn't British presents a threat to public safety then jail them and boot them out and the end of their sentence however it's not going to eliminate the threat.
Then we have some tosser moaning about Alex Salmond making a statement. Good Lord the way that Salmond carries on you'd think he was First Minister and Scotland had been attacked! That's all we need an uppity Scot getting narked and sticking his beak into matters that don't concern him. He'll only get it wrong and break things.
I think my favourite comment was by 'Claire'. 'I am 22 years old and should not feel unsafe in my own country'. What does being 22 have to do with it you bloody fool? Why she didn't just write 'I am a pampered halfwit who descends into a footstamping hissy fit each time the world shows itself to be less than perfect' and have done with it I don't know. Six months in Iraq would sort her out. As if being 22 grants one the right to special protection!
An improbably named gentleman, one 'Mr Buttomungous' claims to have seen four chaps acting suspiciously in a Silver Mercedes last autumn. However he didn't report this or anything sensible like that in case someone thought he was a racist. I think that is quite the silliest thing ever said by any human being anywhere. Why would anyone publicly confess to finding the though of an accusation of racism as being worse than failure to report a potential terrorist attack?
Mind you abuse of the right of free speech is nothing to the abuse of the English language on that board. It's a well known fact that English is the worlds greatest language, I myself refuse to speak any other, even when overseas. I rather fancy the foreigners enjoy the challenge, in any case I always get my egg and chips. To return to the BBC website, if I find people communicating with grunts and fire in the next couple of hours I won't raise so much as an eyebrow in surprise. Instead I shall draw some stick men and jump up and down.
Finally would you all think less of me if I confess to feeling a warm glow at living in a city with citizens mad and heroic enough to punch out a psyched up burning terrorist? The only thing that would have made me happier would be if they'd beaten him with Irn Bru bottles pausing only to light a fag off the flames.
Cheerio
I have been following the coverage of the terror attack at Glasgow Airport with some interest. Against my better judgement I took a trip over to the BBC news 'Have Your Say' bit. Oh Lord! There are times when I think free speech is a terrible error. Then I think again and conclude that if everyone else is going to talk total nonsense who am I to swim against the tide?
First up we have people attempting to get to the root cause of why the airport was attacked. Quite frankly I think someone in authority should take these 'experts' at their word and send them to Guantanamo Bay for having a suspicious level of insider knowledge. I realise that's a bit unfair given that they're talking frightful rot but it's better than them being allowed to air their views and mislead impressionable children and other vulnerable people.
A popular explanation is of course the Iraq War. Quite why someone who felt that way would attack a country which has just elected a devolved government that are vocal opponents of the Iraq war is not explained or I suspect given any consideration. Something of an own goal for the terrorists there I'd have thought, if they were in a tizzy about Iraq.
Whilst I believe that situations like the Iraq War and so on don't do recruitment to terrorist organisations any harm at all they are not the root cause of Islamist terror. There are times when I'm tempted to start supporting the war in Iraq to distance myself from 'Iraq bores'. Honestly if I were to mention that the telly was a bit dull last night I wouldn't be surprised if someone responded well of course what do you expect when we've killed all those poor Iraqis.
There are loads of folk with solutions to the problem. Like ID cards. Saints preserve us. Asylum Seekers are presently obliged to carry ID cards and it doesn't appear to have had much bearing on terrorism prevention in the UK. In any case, is someone mad enough to set fire to themselves likely to be deterred by someone knowing who they are? I cannot see many future terror plots being abandoned with the words 'drat those infidels and their ID cards'.
The deport everyone brigade are out in full. Quite how this would sort out homegrown terrorists is unclear. What do they expect the government to do? Approach some Muslim country and explain 'we're having a spot of trouble with some Islamist terrorists and we thought with you being Muslims you wouldn't mind importing a selection of violent British nutters'. Somehow I can't see that one working. If someone who isn't British presents a threat to public safety then jail them and boot them out and the end of their sentence however it's not going to eliminate the threat.
Then we have some tosser moaning about Alex Salmond making a statement. Good Lord the way that Salmond carries on you'd think he was First Minister and Scotland had been attacked! That's all we need an uppity Scot getting narked and sticking his beak into matters that don't concern him. He'll only get it wrong and break things.
I think my favourite comment was by 'Claire'. 'I am 22 years old and should not feel unsafe in my own country'. What does being 22 have to do with it you bloody fool? Why she didn't just write 'I am a pampered halfwit who descends into a footstamping hissy fit each time the world shows itself to be less than perfect' and have done with it I don't know. Six months in Iraq would sort her out. As if being 22 grants one the right to special protection!
An improbably named gentleman, one 'Mr Buttomungous' claims to have seen four chaps acting suspiciously in a Silver Mercedes last autumn. However he didn't report this or anything sensible like that in case someone thought he was a racist. I think that is quite the silliest thing ever said by any human being anywhere. Why would anyone publicly confess to finding the though of an accusation of racism as being worse than failure to report a potential terrorist attack?
Mind you abuse of the right of free speech is nothing to the abuse of the English language on that board. It's a well known fact that English is the worlds greatest language, I myself refuse to speak any other, even when overseas. I rather fancy the foreigners enjoy the challenge, in any case I always get my egg and chips. To return to the BBC website, if I find people communicating with grunts and fire in the next couple of hours I won't raise so much as an eyebrow in surprise. Instead I shall draw some stick men and jump up and down.
Finally would you all think less of me if I confess to feeling a warm glow at living in a city with citizens mad and heroic enough to punch out a psyched up burning terrorist? The only thing that would have made me happier would be if they'd beaten him with Irn Bru bottles pausing only to light a fag off the flames.
Cheerio
5/28/2007
Another harmless pastime jumps on the cancer bandwagon.
Hello,
I'll bet there was rejoicing throughout the offices of the Daily Mail when this depressing bit of news turned up.
Cheerio
I'll bet there was rejoicing throughout the offices of the Daily Mail when this depressing bit of news turned up.
Cheerio
5/18/2007
The world really needs something to take the edge off it.
Hello,
Sorry for the absence. I've been grappling with nicotine withdrawl, a diet of leftovers and no booze for a week. A whole week. Talk about depressing. I haven't decided to take up 'healthy living' or some such nonsense. I've been estranged from my bank card. To cut a long story short my card stopped working, the bank sent a replacement which has been trapped at the sorting office for a whole week.
Anyway I now have my new card and have been able to get back into the old vices again. Merciful Jesus! The terrible thing about not smoking and drinking is that it makes one think of themselves and how they feel constantly and that way depression lies. I imagine this is what rehab must be like.
It is just as well I've got my 'crutches' because I don't think the unenhanced Clairwil could have taken this horror - Tony Blair in charge of the World Bank! For heaven's sake, you'd think after the mess he's made of Britain, not to mention Iraq he'd be unemployable but no. They think he's wonderful!
Nothing's been decided as yet but it's just the sort of thing I could see Blair doing either that or something pointless in Europe. What the reports on this terrifying possibility don't mention is Cherie. The world Bank might think Paul Wolfowitz's lady friend has been a problem but imagine that grasping crow Cherie on the loose. She'll sweep through the world hoovering up freebies and I bet she'll nick the stationary whether he manages to wangle her a job or not.
Quite apart from anything else and correct me if I'm wrong but Blair doesn't have any banking experience does he? That being the case shouldn't he be starting out in the call centre or something to get a bit of experience. There is also the small matter of the question of Blair's honesty cash for peerages, WMD etc.
Why can't he just piss off to America and charge businessmen stupid sums of money to listen to him bang on about how great he is? Isn't that the normal career for ex-prime ministers. Failing that couldn't we just encase him concrete and bury him for a 100 years after which time he wouldn't be able to do any more damage?
Sorry for the absence. I've been grappling with nicotine withdrawl, a diet of leftovers and no booze for a week. A whole week. Talk about depressing. I haven't decided to take up 'healthy living' or some such nonsense. I've been estranged from my bank card. To cut a long story short my card stopped working, the bank sent a replacement which has been trapped at the sorting office for a whole week.
Anyway I now have my new card and have been able to get back into the old vices again. Merciful Jesus! The terrible thing about not smoking and drinking is that it makes one think of themselves and how they feel constantly and that way depression lies. I imagine this is what rehab must be like.
It is just as well I've got my 'crutches' because I don't think the unenhanced Clairwil could have taken this horror - Tony Blair in charge of the World Bank! For heaven's sake, you'd think after the mess he's made of Britain, not to mention Iraq he'd be unemployable but no. They think he's wonderful!
Nothing's been decided as yet but it's just the sort of thing I could see Blair doing either that or something pointless in Europe. What the reports on this terrifying possibility don't mention is Cherie. The world Bank might think Paul Wolfowitz's lady friend has been a problem but imagine that grasping crow Cherie on the loose. She'll sweep through the world hoovering up freebies and I bet she'll nick the stationary whether he manages to wangle her a job or not.
Quite apart from anything else and correct me if I'm wrong but Blair doesn't have any banking experience does he? That being the case shouldn't he be starting out in the call centre or something to get a bit of experience. There is also the small matter of the question of Blair's honesty cash for peerages, WMD etc.
Why can't he just piss off to America and charge businessmen stupid sums of money to listen to him bang on about how great he is? Isn't that the normal career for ex-prime ministers. Failing that couldn't we just encase him concrete and bury him for a 100 years after which time he wouldn't be able to do any more damage?
5/06/2007
Hey Busybodies Leave Those Weans Alone.
Hello,
The next person who smugly proclaims that the parents of the abducted infant Madeleine McCann or 'Maddy' as she is presumptuously being called by the press, are to blame is getting a sore face. The last time I checked the holiday resorts of Portugal were not war zones. It seems to me perfectly reasonable to leave a child in a nearby room to eat one's dinner in peace.
In truth, I really pity the modern child. I spent most of my childhood wishing my parents would get out my face. Yet by modern standards I was neglected, spending my summers wandering about 'the field' or down the park playing football with the lads. I was also fond of camping expeditions in various neighbours gardens. Similarly snowy winters were spent hurling snowballs and sledging down 'the cliff' (now a steep set of stairs in hideous Barratt scheme). Worse than that, around the age of eight I was deemed capable of walking to school alone and since six was only walked halfway.
To which some smartarse will no doubt hold me up as an example of the pitfalls of lax parenting. All I can say is that my parents aren't to blame for me, my brother has turned out well, I'm just a genetic throwback to some earlier horror. I am a mess of my own making and in that is my defence of a balanced approach. Better to be a disaster that takes responsibility for their own mistakes than one that needs babying well into adulthood. Taking a doing for a dirty tackle when mummy is too far away to run to is a good lesson in life. One that the X-Box ruined child who must be watched is being deprived of.
Strolling in the direction of the point. It seems clear to me that there is a choice before us. We can either succumb to the fear and paranoia or we can get on with the task of decent commonsense child rearing. That means letting them off the leash from time to time, not the harsh, judgemental, parental eyes scorching their skin 24 hours a day. From the moment we are conceived we are at risk of abortion, miscarriage, still birth, accident, fatal illness and murder. Let's just concentrate on making the time children have enjoyable, whatever moral and legal right to life they may have, human evil, brutality and perversity can appear at anytime. Better to jail the perpetrator after the act than stunt whole generation for their own good, on the off chance.
Failing that do not breed and get a cat. Or become a maiden aunt as I will be, God willing, from November.
Cheerio
The next person who smugly proclaims that the parents of the abducted infant Madeleine McCann or 'Maddy' as she is presumptuously being called by the press, are to blame is getting a sore face. The last time I checked the holiday resorts of Portugal were not war zones. It seems to me perfectly reasonable to leave a child in a nearby room to eat one's dinner in peace.
In truth, I really pity the modern child. I spent most of my childhood wishing my parents would get out my face. Yet by modern standards I was neglected, spending my summers wandering about 'the field' or down the park playing football with the lads. I was also fond of camping expeditions in various neighbours gardens. Similarly snowy winters were spent hurling snowballs and sledging down 'the cliff' (now a steep set of stairs in hideous Barratt scheme). Worse than that, around the age of eight I was deemed capable of walking to school alone and since six was only walked halfway.
To which some smartarse will no doubt hold me up as an example of the pitfalls of lax parenting. All I can say is that my parents aren't to blame for me, my brother has turned out well, I'm just a genetic throwback to some earlier horror. I am a mess of my own making and in that is my defence of a balanced approach. Better to be a disaster that takes responsibility for their own mistakes than one that needs babying well into adulthood. Taking a doing for a dirty tackle when mummy is too far away to run to is a good lesson in life. One that the X-Box ruined child who must be watched is being deprived of.
Strolling in the direction of the point. It seems clear to me that there is a choice before us. We can either succumb to the fear and paranoia or we can get on with the task of decent commonsense child rearing. That means letting them off the leash from time to time, not the harsh, judgemental, parental eyes scorching their skin 24 hours a day. From the moment we are conceived we are at risk of abortion, miscarriage, still birth, accident, fatal illness and murder. Let's just concentrate on making the time children have enjoyable, whatever moral and legal right to life they may have, human evil, brutality and perversity can appear at anytime. Better to jail the perpetrator after the act than stunt whole generation for their own good, on the off chance.
Failing that do not breed and get a cat. Or become a maiden aunt as I will be, God willing, from November.
Cheerio
4/20/2007
Oh Lordy Here Come The Nazis......
' Our time is comming
Tommoro Belongs To Me' -BNP Supporter -Stormfront Web Forum
Vote BNP if you don't want the whole of London and Britain, turning into the ape and reptile enclosures of London Zoo!' -BNP Member -Stormfront Web Forum
Hello,
As I'm sure we are all aware following last week's laughable party political broadcast the BNP are fielding thirty-two morons for election next month. What a bunch they are!
First up we have Kenny Smith standing in Glasgow, he's hard to describe really, though freaky, Nazi geek isn't a bad start.
Tommoro Belongs To Me' -BNP Supporter -Stormfront Web Forum
Vote BNP if you don't want the whole of London and Britain, turning into the ape and reptile enclosures of London Zoo!' -BNP Member -Stormfront Web Forum
Hello,
As I'm sure we are all aware following last week's laughable party political broadcast the BNP are fielding thirty-two morons for election next month. What a bunch they are!
First up we have Kenny Smith standing in Glasgow, he's hard to describe really, though freaky, Nazi geek isn't a bad start.
'SMITH sickened neighbours on his native Lewis by waving a swastika flag on Hitler's birthday.
As Scottish secretary, he vets potential recruits to the BNP and introduces them to their members and officials.
Smith is known for smooth-talking in public and projects himself as the acceptable face of the party. But in private, he is quick to launch into racist bile.'
Imagine living next door to that!
Next up is David Kerr, his hobbies include goosestepping in the vicinity of brown skinned people in an effort to start a race war. I'm not making this up!
'PART of BNP's security team and a candidate in national elections, Kerr is a key player in Scotland.
He was among 58 fans prevented from attending Scotland's match with Norway in Bordeaux, France, during the 1998 World Cup.
Kerr, from Port Glasgow, has organised marches in areas with large ethnic minority populations in the hope of provoking 'race war'.'
Steven Blake is the closet to what passes for normal in that he hasn't been caught masturbating in Nazi regalia- yet. Though he is a fan of some foreign imports....
'THE top-rated BNP political candidate in Scotland, he stood in the Euro elections this year but got less than two per cent of the vote. He runs an IT firm in Stirlingshire but business contacts are unaware of his shadowy politics.
Blake is responsible for the BNP's website, and in the 1980s he imported hardcore Nazi material from the US. He runs Digital Scotland, an IT firm who list work for Edinburgh Cyrenians, a respectable homelessness charity , in their portfolio.
The charity confirmed they had paid the company up to £5000 to run their website but emphasised they were unaware of BNP links.'
It's business as usual for southside uberned Scott McLean
'BNP national deputy chairman and Scotland's regional organiser .
He stood at recent Euro elections and preaches on 'family values'.
Yet, he was photographed giving a Nazi salute at a 'Blood and Honour' Nazi skinhead festival in Scotland. McLean, 33, is a former Glasgow City Council joiner who quit after his views were revealed.
He was involved in gang fights between whites and Asians while at Bellahouston Academy . He joined the BNP aged 18. He has mixed with BNP extremists and others throughout Europe, including members of the notorious Combat 18 Nazi gang.'
What an impressive C.V.
I wonder what Charlie Baillie, another of the 32 BNP candidates makes of all this Nazi love as he took part in the BNP's Rememberance Sunday ceremony. Good Lord! What are they mourning the loss of Nazi life in WW2?
We also have Gary Raikes who apparently takes a dim view of anti-social behaviour. He will, I'm sure be having a stern word with a few of his fellow candidates about their antics.
Walter Hamilton is a particularly disgusting, reprehensible piece of shit who's 'finest' hour to date has been his attempt to exploit the death of Kriss Donald, by hassling his family to win BNP votes.
This next lot will presumably not be displaying much local knowledge having been imported from down south to make up the shortfall.
'Among the candidates in the Highlands and Islands region for the Scottish parliament elections is Roger Robertson, a south-east England organiser. The Lothians sees Sadie Graham from the East Midlands and Tim Rait, who unsuccessfully stood in Maidenhead in the 2005 general election. Mid Scotland and Fife has Michaela MacKenzie, who stood in Warwickshire North two years ago. Meanwhile, the West of Scotland region has Kevin Scott, north-east of England regional organiser.'
The last thing Scottish politics needs is more cretins. Fingers crossed for 32 lost deposits.
Cheerio
4/15/2007
A Code Of Conduct For Bloggers
Hello,
Is there no part of my life that is free from botherers? I have just received an email telling, yes telling me to become a protestant. Obviously I emailed back and said I'd love to but first you need to do something about the lack of visuals, incense and how about adopting few Voodoo rituals. Believe me that is the last time I ever ask the Wee Free's a serious theological question.
Anyway some sort of code of conduct for bloggers has been brought to my attention. Oh for Christ's sake just cock off! Is nothing sacred? All I ever wanted in life was a space to act the goat in without someone moaning that I'd trod on their prize marrow. Now we have this set of rules. To be fair they are voluntary -for now.
There is no need for it whatsoever. I find myself reminded of those kiss-arse children I was incarcerated at school with. Do you know that at one point they took at petition to the headmaster asking for the uniform rules to be enforced? And had the nerve to call me immature for sneering at them! Why in God's name would anyone campaign to have one of their meagre freedoms taken away?
As time goes by I start to relate to those Americans that live in shacks in the mountains with 526 rifles and mistrust the government.
If you don't want to read me, then fuck off! Now that is a code of conduct.
Cheerio
Is there no part of my life that is free from botherers? I have just received an email telling, yes telling me to become a protestant. Obviously I emailed back and said I'd love to but first you need to do something about the lack of visuals, incense and how about adopting few Voodoo rituals. Believe me that is the last time I ever ask the Wee Free's a serious theological question.
Anyway some sort of code of conduct for bloggers has been brought to my attention. Oh for Christ's sake just cock off! Is nothing sacred? All I ever wanted in life was a space to act the goat in without someone moaning that I'd trod on their prize marrow. Now we have this set of rules. To be fair they are voluntary -for now.
There is no need for it whatsoever. I find myself reminded of those kiss-arse children I was incarcerated at school with. Do you know that at one point they took at petition to the headmaster asking for the uniform rules to be enforced? And had the nerve to call me immature for sneering at them! Why in God's name would anyone campaign to have one of their meagre freedoms taken away?
As time goes by I start to relate to those Americans that live in shacks in the mountains with 526 rifles and mistrust the government.
If you don't want to read me, then fuck off! Now that is a code of conduct.
Cheerio
4/08/2007
Please God Don't Let Wendy Be In Charge
Hello,
Today's Herald carries the horrifying news that if Labour lose too many seats in the forthcoming election then she-gargoyle from the very pit of hell Wendy Alexander is hoping to take over.
Almost all politicians annoy me to some extent but usually it's what they say and do that upsets me rather than, arrgh! just everything. I'm sorry but I cannot stand Wendy Alexander. I hate her face, the way she over enunciates like she's talking to a deaf foreign waiter. Honestly I can't hear a word she says without my head filling up with visions of some idiot Brit bellowing EGG. AND. CHIPS. TWICE in a Spanish tourist trap.
I'm told she's very bright but to be frank. I couldn't care less. I am not having that stupid bloody face and hellish voice running the show. Pig in knickers doesn't even begin to cover it. Oh God I'm starting to see her face when I close my eyes. I don't mind ugly people in politics, it's just that she's ugly in such an irritating way and she has that voice.
I'll lay a £20 bet with anyone that she was the class sneak at school and would cry if you borrowed her rubber and got a black mark on it. She's the sort of woman that carries wet wipes at all times and Gordon Brown likes her. In other words she's a thoroughly bad lot.
Cheerio
Today's Herald carries the horrifying news that if Labour lose too many seats in the forthcoming election then she-gargoyle from the very pit of hell Wendy Alexander is hoping to take over.
Almost all politicians annoy me to some extent but usually it's what they say and do that upsets me rather than, arrgh! just everything. I'm sorry but I cannot stand Wendy Alexander. I hate her face, the way she over enunciates like she's talking to a deaf foreign waiter. Honestly I can't hear a word she says without my head filling up with visions of some idiot Brit bellowing EGG. AND. CHIPS. TWICE in a Spanish tourist trap.
I'm told she's very bright but to be frank. I couldn't care less. I am not having that stupid bloody face and hellish voice running the show. Pig in knickers doesn't even begin to cover it. Oh God I'm starting to see her face when I close my eyes. I don't mind ugly people in politics, it's just that she's ugly in such an irritating way and she has that voice.
I'll lay a £20 bet with anyone that she was the class sneak at school and would cry if you borrowed her rubber and got a black mark on it. She's the sort of woman that carries wet wipes at all times and Gordon Brown likes her. In other words she's a thoroughly bad lot.
Cheerio
4/07/2007
The Internet Hates Me
Hello,
Following on from my earlier post about the horror involved in trying to set up a website. I'm still stuck. Some of the clever types below have asked me for more information! Ha! they don't realise quite what a dunce they're dealing with. Anyway here is my version of events. Can anyone shed any light on this catastrophe?
I purchased a website regarding popular skin conditions on ebay with the aim of polluting the internet with with yet another advertising site. This website reckons it's ready to go for adsense and that all one has to do is insert their adsense ID and then publish. Oh they made it sound so bloody easy and I'm sure it is for other people.
I downloaded it and opened it using WinRAR. All the templates opened in Firefox after I'd unzipped them. I didn't ask them to, it just happened. Also supplied with the programme was a search and replace tool. The instructions said that I should type in my adsense code, hit search and replace and that would be the editing done. It didn't work and kept saying that the code I wished to replace didn't exist! But it did because I've seen it!
As the files kept opening as the finished article rather than html. I used the view source option and copied the template into notepad. This then allowed me to replace the relevant bit of code by hand not using the fucking tool.
For my next trick I then tried to upload the files to my website. Oh sweet Jesus! Why did I bother? I followed the instructions in windows which seem simple but are a wicked trick. The only option I'm given is to upload to MSN groups. Nowhere else. Who in their right mind wants to only send things to MSN? Why can't I add my webhost?
So I went to my control panel. Noted their template editor was useless unless you just want to pick one of their templates, so I installed Joomla. Why Joomla? I don't know I just liked the name. Joomla is a cunt. Every time I try and upload the templates I get an error message. It has thus far allowed me to upload a banner with no problem, then turned against me. It did allow me to copy and paste a page of code in but it came out all wrong!
I realise that I am at fault here. I just can't understand where I went wrong. I'm not great with computers but this is absurd. I thought templates would make life easier.
Cheerio
Following on from my earlier post about the horror involved in trying to set up a website. I'm still stuck. Some of the clever types below have asked me for more information! Ha! they don't realise quite what a dunce they're dealing with. Anyway here is my version of events. Can anyone shed any light on this catastrophe?
I purchased a website regarding popular skin conditions on ebay with the aim of polluting the internet with with yet another advertising site. This website reckons it's ready to go for adsense and that all one has to do is insert their adsense ID and then publish. Oh they made it sound so bloody easy and I'm sure it is for other people.
I downloaded it and opened it using WinRAR. All the templates opened in Firefox after I'd unzipped them. I didn't ask them to, it just happened. Also supplied with the programme was a search and replace tool. The instructions said that I should type in my adsense code, hit search and replace and that would be the editing done. It didn't work and kept saying that the code I wished to replace didn't exist! But it did because I've seen it!
As the files kept opening as the finished article rather than html. I used the view source option and copied the template into notepad. This then allowed me to replace the relevant bit of code by hand not using the fucking tool.
For my next trick I then tried to upload the files to my website. Oh sweet Jesus! Why did I bother? I followed the instructions in windows which seem simple but are a wicked trick. The only option I'm given is to upload to MSN groups. Nowhere else. Who in their right mind wants to only send things to MSN? Why can't I add my webhost?
So I went to my control panel. Noted their template editor was useless unless you just want to pick one of their templates, so I installed Joomla. Why Joomla? I don't know I just liked the name. Joomla is a cunt. Every time I try and upload the templates I get an error message. It has thus far allowed me to upload a banner with no problem, then turned against me. It did allow me to copy and paste a page of code in but it came out all wrong!
I realise that I am at fault here. I just can't understand where I went wrong. I'm not great with computers but this is absurd. I thought templates would make life easier.
Cheerio
2/05/2007
Please Cry Quietly
Hello,
As someone who might charitably be described as unusually sensitive to other people's noise or more realistically an irritable, hard faced cow my life contains more than it's fair share of torment.
Take this afternoon for example after being released from the horror of work slightly earlier than expected I thought I'd take myself off for a quiet pint and a read at the paper. Really my needs are simple in life, a dark pub with just enough light to read , a bit of gentle chatter in the background and a newspaper in the afternoon. That's just how it was today until the incredible whining she- screech started.
One moment all was perfectly peaceful then the next this awful creature started saying 'I' and 'me' a lot between sobs of a terrifying volume. I looked up all the better to glare at the person who had brought a distressed child into the pub only to be confronted with the sight of a badly dressed young woman hanging off a middle aged man and screaming.
I must say the chap showed infinitely more patience than I would have in such a situation, more so when one considers that he didn't make his escape when she went to the toilet. I hoped and prayed she might be using her time in the ladies to compose herself but no, she'd merely been working herself up to greater heights of hysteria.
I've nothing against crying as such. I do it all the time and it's quite useful. All I ask that it is done in private or at least quietly. If one must to make a song and dance about it at least tell the rest of us why. Honestly I was driving myself mad trying to work out what had happened to cause her to carry on in such a manner. She looked to me, like the sort of woman that cries at parties and has to be taken home early by a chap, ideally a friends husband.
My peace shattered I packed up and moved on. To think they won't even let one have a fag in the pub but behaviour like that is within the law. I really don't understand anything anymore.
As someone who might charitably be described as unusually sensitive to other people's noise or more realistically an irritable, hard faced cow my life contains more than it's fair share of torment.
Take this afternoon for example after being released from the horror of work slightly earlier than expected I thought I'd take myself off for a quiet pint and a read at the paper. Really my needs are simple in life, a dark pub with just enough light to read , a bit of gentle chatter in the background and a newspaper in the afternoon. That's just how it was today until the incredible whining she- screech started.
One moment all was perfectly peaceful then the next this awful creature started saying 'I' and 'me' a lot between sobs of a terrifying volume. I looked up all the better to glare at the person who had brought a distressed child into the pub only to be confronted with the sight of a badly dressed young woman hanging off a middle aged man and screaming.
I must say the chap showed infinitely more patience than I would have in such a situation, more so when one considers that he didn't make his escape when she went to the toilet. I hoped and prayed she might be using her time in the ladies to compose herself but no, she'd merely been working herself up to greater heights of hysteria.
I've nothing against crying as such. I do it all the time and it's quite useful. All I ask that it is done in private or at least quietly. If one must to make a song and dance about it at least tell the rest of us why. Honestly I was driving myself mad trying to work out what had happened to cause her to carry on in such a manner. She looked to me, like the sort of woman that cries at parties and has to be taken home early by a chap, ideally a friends husband.
My peace shattered I packed up and moved on. To think they won't even let one have a fag in the pub but behaviour like that is within the law. I really don't understand anything anymore.
1/14/2007
Clairwil's Stalker Returns
Hello,
God help me! About eight years ago just as Mr Clairwil and I started courting, a gentleman of advanced years developed an unhealthy interest in me. I had briefly worked beside him in a dreadful part-time office job I'd taken at low point in my life. Whilst I have no recollection of him ever being in the same workplace as me at anytime in my entire life, he assures me that we were colleagues. He certainly seems to recall some of the highlights of that short episode in my career. Chiefly the time I caused outrage by describing Mother Teresa as a 'cunt' and asserting that Princess Di was loads better than her. She was, I can prove it, though I don't have time just now.
Anyway I was minding my own business this morning in a well known bookshop when he pounced. Having not seen him for eight years I didn't have the faintest idea who he was. I just assumed I'd represented him at a benefit tribunal or something. I could have cried when I realised the full horror of the situation. How in the name of Christ did he remember who I was? Those that know me will be able to tell you that I look very different these days. He offered to take me for a coffee, a pub lunch and dinner. All of which I refused, so he asked for my phone number. Do I say no in a particularly encouraging way? Is he mental? All I know is that he has ideas above his station.
Oh and if he phones you looking for me, I can only apologise I just made up the first number that came into my head. Sorry. I do realise that I could just have told him to fuck off but I didn't want to hurt his feelings. It's a terrible failing but I can't help but feel that anyone that likes me can't be all bad.
One ray of sunshine in the most terrifying day of my life was picking up a slim volume by the name of 'Not Many Dead' half-price in the sale. It's taken from a column in 'The Oldie' and concerns bits of non-news submitted by readers. As Mr John Humphreys correctly points out 'the truly shaming thing about this book is that it's all true.....God help us!'. It's hard to convey just what a waste of ink the news stories concerned are, though as with all 'we're all going to hell in a handcart' books it's oddly uplifting, albeit in a 'you mean I'm not alone' way. I shall leave you with a few gems from 'Not Many Dead'- just take care not to faint with surprise or shock -unless of course you want to hit the headlines.
'Singer Billy Joel badly gashed his finger on the lid of a tin of beans he was opening for his dinner at home in Long Island'
- Daily Mirror
'Nigel Dempster, the Daily Mail gossip columnist, had a painful bruise after bumping his head on a door at his home'
-Daily Telegraph
'Camilla Parker Bowles ran to catch up with the Prince of Wales after attending church with him at Sandringham. She was holding a bunch of red tulips.'
-The Times
'Police who went to round up some straying sheep in Derbyshire found that the animals had already returned to their field'
-Matlock Mercury
All true and there's more.....
God help me! About eight years ago just as Mr Clairwil and I started courting, a gentleman of advanced years developed an unhealthy interest in me. I had briefly worked beside him in a dreadful part-time office job I'd taken at low point in my life. Whilst I have no recollection of him ever being in the same workplace as me at anytime in my entire life, he assures me that we were colleagues. He certainly seems to recall some of the highlights of that short episode in my career. Chiefly the time I caused outrage by describing Mother Teresa as a 'cunt' and asserting that Princess Di was loads better than her. She was, I can prove it, though I don't have time just now.
Anyway I was minding my own business this morning in a well known bookshop when he pounced. Having not seen him for eight years I didn't have the faintest idea who he was. I just assumed I'd represented him at a benefit tribunal or something. I could have cried when I realised the full horror of the situation. How in the name of Christ did he remember who I was? Those that know me will be able to tell you that I look very different these days. He offered to take me for a coffee, a pub lunch and dinner. All of which I refused, so he asked for my phone number. Do I say no in a particularly encouraging way? Is he mental? All I know is that he has ideas above his station.
Oh and if he phones you looking for me, I can only apologise I just made up the first number that came into my head. Sorry. I do realise that I could just have told him to fuck off but I didn't want to hurt his feelings. It's a terrible failing but I can't help but feel that anyone that likes me can't be all bad.
One ray of sunshine in the most terrifying day of my life was picking up a slim volume by the name of 'Not Many Dead' half-price in the sale. It's taken from a column in 'The Oldie' and concerns bits of non-news submitted by readers. As Mr John Humphreys correctly points out 'the truly shaming thing about this book is that it's all true.....God help us!'. It's hard to convey just what a waste of ink the news stories concerned are, though as with all 'we're all going to hell in a handcart' books it's oddly uplifting, albeit in a 'you mean I'm not alone' way. I shall leave you with a few gems from 'Not Many Dead'- just take care not to faint with surprise or shock -unless of course you want to hit the headlines.
'Singer Billy Joel badly gashed his finger on the lid of a tin of beans he was opening for his dinner at home in Long Island'
- Daily Mirror
'Nigel Dempster, the Daily Mail gossip columnist, had a painful bruise after bumping his head on a door at his home'
-Daily Telegraph
'Camilla Parker Bowles ran to catch up with the Prince of Wales after attending church with him at Sandringham. She was holding a bunch of red tulips.'
-The Times
'Police who went to round up some straying sheep in Derbyshire found that the animals had already returned to their field'
-Matlock Mercury
All true and there's more.....
12/21/2006
The Bus Journey From Hell
Hello,
I've not had a bus ordeal for quite some time, so today came as quite a shock. Am I alone in pretending to be a nice person in front of family? I feel certain I am not. If only today's bus cretin had been similar, though in fairness I was brought up with the utmost care, this fellow would have been vastly improved by being at least dragged up.
Is it normal for a fifteen year old by to lie on his back across a couple of seats farting loudly at two minute intervals on a bus in front of his mother and sister? He claimed it was caused by scrambled eggs and having had the misfortune to be sitting downwind of him I am of the opinion he was right. In between his vile anal outpourings we were subjected to his conversation.
Unbelievably this consisted of him telling his mother that he'd tried to 'ride a wee hoor at school' but she was on her period, describing 'Borat' as a film about a 'mental paki' and stating that his day in school was 'fuckin cool' because he'd spent the entire day farting. He then took to barking at me because my appearance wasn't up to his high standards. No sympathy please! I am more than happy to live without the affection of a flatulent mental defective. When this failed to lift my nose out my book he took to rapping, then singing in a high pitched voice. At this point his mother got up and sat on the front of the bus. I'm no parenting expert but I cannot help but feel the responsible thing to do would have been to slit his throat or drown him. Thankfully he trotted off at her heels and did not bother me again until he spat on me as I was waiting to get off the bus. I will burn that jacket.
To think I'd been in a great mood until I got on that bus. Anyway I've put in a cosmic order for him to hang himself, his mother to be sterilised or the apocalypse. Fingers crossed.
Cheerio
I've not had a bus ordeal for quite some time, so today came as quite a shock. Am I alone in pretending to be a nice person in front of family? I feel certain I am not. If only today's bus cretin had been similar, though in fairness I was brought up with the utmost care, this fellow would have been vastly improved by being at least dragged up.
Is it normal for a fifteen year old by to lie on his back across a couple of seats farting loudly at two minute intervals on a bus in front of his mother and sister? He claimed it was caused by scrambled eggs and having had the misfortune to be sitting downwind of him I am of the opinion he was right. In between his vile anal outpourings we were subjected to his conversation.
Unbelievably this consisted of him telling his mother that he'd tried to 'ride a wee hoor at school' but she was on her period, describing 'Borat' as a film about a 'mental paki' and stating that his day in school was 'fuckin cool' because he'd spent the entire day farting. He then took to barking at me because my appearance wasn't up to his high standards. No sympathy please! I am more than happy to live without the affection of a flatulent mental defective. When this failed to lift my nose out my book he took to rapping, then singing in a high pitched voice. At this point his mother got up and sat on the front of the bus. I'm no parenting expert but I cannot help but feel the responsible thing to do would have been to slit his throat or drown him. Thankfully he trotted off at her heels and did not bother me again until he spat on me as I was waiting to get off the bus. I will burn that jacket.
To think I'd been in a great mood until I got on that bus. Anyway I've put in a cosmic order for him to hang himself, his mother to be sterilised or the apocalypse. Fingers crossed.
Cheerio
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