Another random rant

Hello.  It's been a while.  I've done some things - saw the Foo Fighters again, that was awesome - bought some tickets to see the Foo Fighters again next year, that was awesome - got my car crashed into and had to stand in the middle of a busy London road just outside the Blackwall tunnel shouting obscenities at a PRICK, that was awesome - we've also had a family death, and a family injury, in fact, a family full stop!  Family and life sometimes get in the way of the important things.  Important things such as MOANING!


So for my first trick, I'd like to potentially alienate a whole village of readers.  Do you come from Wellow, near Bath?  Do you have children at a school in Wellow?  Are you anything to do with Wellow whatsoever?  If so, you're a stain on the gusset of society.  We had to drive through Wellow the other morning, right at fucking school run time.  I have rarely encountered such a bunch of arrogant, rude, snooty fucking TWATS as I did that morning.  Wellow is a small village, so at busy times the traffic is a problem through there, however that does not give one the right to act like a complete SHITWIPE.  Snooty wenches in their fucking wellies and 4x4s, I'M COMING THROUGH GET OUT OF MY WAY, beardy hipster men who have no ability to reverse a car and instead sit there NOT MOVING until you are forced to reverse UP A HILL AND ROUND A CORNER for about 15 car lengths because they can't be fucked to reverse two car lengths back to let you through, and then here's a great idea, let's all have our fucking MOTHER'S MEETING about where Tarquin's going to have his birthday party or who we're going to invite to Felicity's Halloween bonfire RIGHT OUTSIDE THE FUCKING PUB IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD.  Wellow - breeding ground of the absolute CUNT.


Talking of Halloween, what a load of Americanised bollocks that has become.  In my day, you used to slap on a bit of your mum's lipstick round your eyes, rip up a sheet or a binbag, put on a woolly hat and go and annoy your neighbours who would chuck a Blue Riband biscuit in your bucket.  Oh no, not nowadays.  The kids are all done up in costumes that their parents have either paid top dolla for or made themselves over the course of the last three months, and people decorate their gardens like it's fucking Christmas.   And if the kids visiting you are slightly older, and you don't give them a decent bit of loot, they egg your fucking house and then YOU are the one that gets arrested when you beat the fuck out of the little shits!  How is that fair?  And also, what's with 'candy'?  CANDY?  NO.  IT'S SWEETS.  Does your birth certificate say Beverley Hills?  No it fucking doesn't, it says Princess Margaret Hospital, Swindon, so take your CANDY and STICK IT UP YOUR PUMPKIN.


There's been a lot of talk lately about 'gender'.  Gender neutral this and that. Does it really, really matter?  There was a right hoo-haa because John Lewis decided to advertise it's kids clothes as 'gender neutral' rather than 'boys' or 'girls'.  Are they not just 'clothes'?  Bits of fabric that you put on your kids to stop them getting cold?  Does it really matter if they're pink, or blue, or green, or stripy or what is written on the label?  They're just clothes.  If you like them, buy them.  If you don't like them, don't buy them.  Don't use up all your energy on complaining to Twitter that John Lewis are twats (although, if you do, make sure you tag in the right John Lewis, some geezer in America gets all their tweets because some people can't actually read) - clothes are clothes, it's really that simple.  Cavemen didn't give a fuck whether their loincloths were labelled M or F, and they got on just fine!  At the risk of sounding like a massive cliché, we really must stop sweating about the small stuff in life.  If people weren't getting so worked up about insignificant shit like this, we'd all be a lot happier and healthier in my opinion.


I saw a lady of ample proportions come out of Gregg's the other day, wearing a vest top, and her almost entire LARGE TIT was hanging out of the top of her vest, you could see the nip and everything.  Put me right off my Steak Bake.  (And no, it wasn't my own reflection in the window of Poundland, you wankers!)


So adverts are still pissing me off.  Who on earth thought that using cartoon characters would make you take out a mortgage with the Halifax?  I couldn't give two FLYING FUCKS if Top Cat has shacked up with Officer Dibble, in fact, if it's true, somebody needs to call his superior officer as I'm sure that's fucking illegal.  And the cast of Scooby Doo, what's that all about?  They always, WITHOUT FUCKING EXCEPTION, failed to realise until the very last minute, that the villain was THE MOST OBVIOUS SUSPECT.  If they can't even detect the obvious perpetrator of the heinous crime of wearing a spooky mask in a derelict museum, then like FUCK am I giving them 700 quid a month for a two bed new build on Paxcroft Mead.  Also this - and I may have mentioned this before - adverts for jam rags.  NO WOMAN EVER IN THEIR LIFE HAS HAD A HAPPY PERIOD. The end.


This week at work I had the following email conversation with a stupid person:
Me - Hello Bob (not his real name) - thanks for emailing me this invoice, but it's not for us.
Bob - Hello - oh, really sorry, my mistake, I'll send it to the right person.
Me - No problem at all!
(Literally ten minutes later)
Bob - Hello - please can you pay the attached invoice?
Me - Hello - Bob, it's the same invoice that you sent before, it's not for us.
Bob - Oh.  Please could you send it to me so I can look into this?
Me (in my own mind - uh, YOU JUST SENT IT TO ME ON AN EMAIL, SO YOU HAVE IT ALREADY) Yes, here it is.
Bob - thanks, I'll check this out and let you know the outcome.
Me (in my own mind - I CAN TELL YOU WHAT THE FUCKING OUTCOME IS, THE OUTCOME IS I'M NOT PAYING IT) Ok, thanks.


I am fat.  So I'm on another diet.  This involves buying lots of lovely health items, like fat free yoghurts, sugar free jelly, lettuces etc etc.  While emptying out my fridge to make room for these culinary delights, I came across a load of sugar free jellies from my last diet that had gone out of date.  Quite a while out of date.  In fact, as the fridge opened, my eyes started watering, the skin on my face started to melt, alarms started sounding and somebody reported me to Environmental Health.  Next thing I know, NASA has surrounded my house, with people in white boiler suits and big-ass vans, just like that scene out of ET when they're trying to squirrel him away to their underground lair to do experiments on him, except this time, there were no teenage boys on BMXs to come to my rescue.  But, then I realised, THIS IS HOW DIETS WORK.  You buy a load of shitty, healthy food, you leave it in your fridge for ALL ETERNITY, and then you eat it!  You will then be shitting your actual ring out for the next week and lose half your body weight!  I really think this time it's going to work!