As you might have realised, I am firmly established in the "grumpy git" category of mankind. I seem to have made that transition from benevolence to malevolence with an ease which encourages me to research my family tree under B for Borgia in order to find Great Aunt Lucrezia and prove that evil thoughts are a work of gene-ius.
Sadly, my frustration with all the petty annoyances of life is not outwardly manifested. Oh, to be one of these people that can shout and cause trouble at the drop of a hat. I tend to use subtlety which, of course, goes over the heads of many but has the advantage of making me feel better without risking an admonitory smack in the face from the recipient of such comments. Sometimes, of course, the object of my wrath is not eligible for the mot subtile and this is where the laser cannon comes to prominence. "Eh? Laser cannon? What's the stupid old duffer chuntering on about now?" I hear you ask. Allow me to elucidate.
Let us say that an old, red BMW comes down the road. It will have the obligatory twat in the go-faster sunglasses driving (usually way over the speed limit). It will have the obligatory "long blonde hair, short dark roots" bimbo beside him and also 20, 000 watts of drum 'n bass pounding out and leaving a trail of pedestrians wondering why their ears have suddenly started bleeding profusely? I could scream something subtle as he flashes past ("Tosser" springs to mind) but I gain far more satisfaction from imagining my laser cannon in my arms, sighting along the barrel and then watching the aforesaid vehicle explode into a million tiny pieces.
It helps me get round Scummerfields as I decimate the queues of people in front of me buying their pack of Golden Virginia and £2.30 a litre bottle of Serbian vodka. The satisfaction as I lay waste the rabble around the Reduced section before strolling through the smoking bodies to take my pick of the out of date coleslaws and pro-biotic drinks is almost palpable.
OK, you've got the picture now so I can get to the nub of the matter.
This morning, whilst out strolling, I was passed by a Suzuki Vitara (you know, the cheap one that tries to pretend it's going to be a 4x4 when it grows up). As it drove past, I noticed it had written on the rear window, in large pink letters, "Powered by Fairy Dust". Naturally, without even thinking, I hoisted my laser cannon to my shoulder and, just as I was going to pull the trigger, I noticed a Liverpool FC sticker in the side window. My finger hesitated and I was faced with a tough decision.
Anyone who admits that they are a total and utter loser by mentioning fairy dust really deserves oblivion. It's classified under the same sub-section of Life as sweet-looking animals on nightwear and talking baby talk to adults.........however, there must be a semblance of intellect there somewhere if they support the Reds unless, of course, there is a man around who has vainly attempted to give the Vitara some semblance of machismo. In the end, I pulled the trigger rationalising that, if she was a Liverpool supporter she was fatally flawed. Were he to be the fan then the loss of his sticker was a small price to pay for ridding him of someone who likes fairy frigging dust!
Life is all about decisions. We make them and we live with those decisions. I have made many wrong ones but today, when I returned home, I strolled in safe in the knowledge that I had provided yet another contribution to making the world just that little bit better.
If you want fairy dust then might I suggest something like this is far more appropriate!!
Sadly, my frustration with all the petty annoyances of life is not outwardly manifested. Oh, to be one of these people that can shout and cause trouble at the drop of a hat. I tend to use subtlety which, of course, goes over the heads of many but has the advantage of making me feel better without risking an admonitory smack in the face from the recipient of such comments. Sometimes, of course, the object of my wrath is not eligible for the mot subtile and this is where the laser cannon comes to prominence. "Eh? Laser cannon? What's the stupid old duffer chuntering on about now?" I hear you ask. Allow me to elucidate.
Let us say that an old, red BMW comes down the road. It will have the obligatory twat in the go-faster sunglasses driving (usually way over the speed limit). It will have the obligatory "long blonde hair, short dark roots" bimbo beside him and also 20, 000 watts of drum 'n bass pounding out and leaving a trail of pedestrians wondering why their ears have suddenly started bleeding profusely? I could scream something subtle as he flashes past ("Tosser" springs to mind) but I gain far more satisfaction from imagining my laser cannon in my arms, sighting along the barrel and then watching the aforesaid vehicle explode into a million tiny pieces.
It helps me get round Scummerfields as I decimate the queues of people in front of me buying their pack of Golden Virginia and £2.30 a litre bottle of Serbian vodka. The satisfaction as I lay waste the rabble around the Reduced section before strolling through the smoking bodies to take my pick of the out of date coleslaws and pro-biotic drinks is almost palpable.
OK, you've got the picture now so I can get to the nub of the matter.
This morning, whilst out strolling, I was passed by a Suzuki Vitara (you know, the cheap one that tries to pretend it's going to be a 4x4 when it grows up). As it drove past, I noticed it had written on the rear window, in large pink letters, "Powered by Fairy Dust". Naturally, without even thinking, I hoisted my laser cannon to my shoulder and, just as I was going to pull the trigger, I noticed a Liverpool FC sticker in the side window. My finger hesitated and I was faced with a tough decision.
Anyone who admits that they are a total and utter loser by mentioning fairy dust really deserves oblivion. It's classified under the same sub-section of Life as sweet-looking animals on nightwear and talking baby talk to adults.........however, there must be a semblance of intellect there somewhere if they support the Reds unless, of course, there is a man around who has vainly attempted to give the Vitara some semblance of machismo. In the end, I pulled the trigger rationalising that, if she was a Liverpool supporter she was fatally flawed. Were he to be the fan then the loss of his sticker was a small price to pay for ridding him of someone who likes fairy frigging dust!
Life is all about decisions. We make them and we live with those decisions. I have made many wrong ones but today, when I returned home, I strolled in safe in the knowledge that I had provided yet another contribution to making the world just that little bit better.
If you want fairy dust then might I suggest something like this is far more appropriate!!
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2 comments:
Here I was, wading amongst the packing boxes, when I thought I'd do a teeny bit of blog-browsing whilst I munched on my rice cakes. And there you were with this fabulous post.
Firstly ... how wonderful of Scummerfields to have a Reduced Section. Brilliant! Everything that's going off in one place, so one can quickly and easily obtain one's food poisoning of choice.
Secondly ... have you got a spare laser gun I can borrow/have/buy? The pillock in the white van who didn't stop at the roundabout when I was driving my son's friend (mid asthma attack) home to use his inhaler, deserves a fatal blast. I'll get the b*gger next time I see him (local shop van, so I know I'll see him again).
Jeez, I seem to have written a whole blog post in your comment box. Sorry about that. Anyone would think I'm missing blogging, wouldn't they? *blush*
Take care. x
An inhaler.
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