Sunday, 17 February 2008

Bloody Cats!

What is it with these damned creatures? My wife, bless her cotton socks, has 3 cats. One of them is called Vixen. She's black with white tummy. One of them is called Dora. She is black. And one of them is called Daffodil. She is black.

Can I tell them apart? Can I hell? Why didn't she buy different coloured cats, each with their names tattooed in different fluorescent ink so they are visible in the dark?

The cats seem to enjoy a multitude of exciting activities such as:
  1. Killing birds early on Monday morning so when I get up early to go to work I am confronted by bird heads, legs and assorted body parts strewn around the front hall. And as it is Monday morning, I find these delightful offerings with my feet, in the dark. Lovely.
  2. Sleeping on various steps so that I am almost killed falling down the stairs. Evil creatures.
  3. Jumping on my head from the middle of nowhere when I am watching a scary film. It certainly livens procedings up!
  4. Sitting on my keyboard and sending weird messages to my boss.
  5. When I'm playing a particularly good FPS (that's a 1st person shooter PC game...) one or more of the creatures will appear, bite my foot and then spend the next 20 minutes showing me their arses. Yeah, thanks for that, you cat!
  6. Eating.
  7. Farting.
  8. Crapping in other people's gardens.
Although point 8 is probably a good thing, the bad thing is that all the other neighbourhood cats do exactly that, and this ends up with some other people's evil cats crapping in MY garden.

Wednesday, 13 February 2008

Global Warming Claptrap

This makes me very angry. All of this is a pile of crap. Let's see now, yes. Climate Change. Conveniently renamed from Global Warming because the planet isn't warming up, so what do the so-called environmental lunatics do? That's right. Change the crisis from global warming to climate change. And now they want to stop the climate changing! How the hell are they going to do that? Haven't they heard of King Canute? This twat believed it possible to somehow stop the tide. He drowned. Or if he didn't, he should've done to show the world what a fool he was.

Check out a few of these links that show how absolutely crazed these green nutters actually are:

Ban dihydrogen monoxide NOW!

How many recycle bins can you cope with?

Environmental Hysteria! Part1, Part2, Part3.

And this too.

Notice all these types (especially so in the UK) are strangely able to get time off from their jobs to attend rallies, marches, 2 month protests in city centres? What? Jobs? You think they don't have jobs and are Dole Scrounging Scum? My word! Maybe that's the truth!

There are some things that I recommend that you do to counteract these nutjobs:

  1. Set fire to old tyres in your garden.
  2. Eat lots of beans and fart as much as possible.
  3. Campaign strongly to get the lazy back to work so they don't annoy you protesting about global warming.
  4. Stop paying attention to photos proclaiming to show poor polar bears hanging onto icebergs last week when the photo was taken years ago - and in SUMMER..

Filthy Commuting Scum

Well, here we go. I get on my train to go home and what greets me? Is it:

  1. A person from the train company to wish me well on my fun-packed journey home?
  2. An evil-smelling tramp reeking of piss?
  3. A clean carriage and comfortable seats?
  4. What appears to be the aftermath of a food fight between filthy commuting scum?
Hmm. Could be any of those 4, couldn't it?

Let's have a guess using this photo below:

Yes, it is number 4, possibly with a bit of number 2 too! Notice the discarded sandwich boxes (one stuffed under the seat and one left on the "little table thingy"). Also notice the coffee cups too. And, of course, the very sticky floor. The seats are probably wet too.

So what sort of individual would do that, when there's a bin about an arm's stretch away?

Tuesday, 12 February 2008

Women and Ticket Barriers

What is it with these people? They are approaching a ticket barrier along with hundreds of other plebs and it's only when they physically get to the barrier that their teeny weeny little brains decided to rummage through 2 or more handbags (or, worse still, one of those horrid pull-along suitcases on wheels) for their damned ticket!

I mean, it isn't difficult, is it? Have your bloody ticket in your pocket!

What I think their little brains are doing is as follows:
"Shoes, handbags, shoes, nice dresses, shoes, shoes, ticket barrier approaching, shoes, handbags, hair, does my bum look big in these trousers, shoes, hair, shoes, oh at ticket barrier now what should I do? Shoes, ticket barrier, handbag, hair, hair, shoes, shoes, must find ticket, shoes, hair...." etc

Saturday, 9 February 2008

London Underground Waste

If you have ever travelled on the tube (London Underground) you will have immediately noticed one or all of the following things:

  1. There's a bloke carrying a little white lollypop-type stick with a cross on the top. His "job" is to stand around until the signal goes green and then hold this stick in the air for around 20 seconds. For this strenuous job, he'll probably get paid about £20,000. All all these people together and see how much cheaper your ticket would be without doing with his great service. Whatever it is.
  2. Vast numbers of staff whose "job" is to "hang around". They chat with each other about TV from the previous evening etc, usually around the ticket barriers. Although large numbers are now seen crowding around the entrances where they can iratite the shit out of passengers by closing the gates and stopping entry due to "Health And Safety".
  3. Inaudable announcements from people whose first language (or second, or third...) isn't English. These announcements are helped on by being mumbled when a train is approaching the platform. Luckily, the announcements are usually of the type that is bloody obvious to all but the very very stupid: the train is going east/west/north/south and calls at all stations to bloody somewhere. Of course it is. The platform says where the train is going and the little display board tells you how long until it turns up.
  4. The ticket seller behind the little window (if it is open for business, that is) is slower than a retarded snail that's been nailed to a plank. "I'd like a return to Acton Town please" elicits the kind of slow and pained facial expression had I dropped my trousers and done a crap in the Metro newspaper stand.
  5. Idiotic drivers announcements (when they can be bothered to make any) saying "Move down the carriages and make use of all available space". Well, listen here chummy: We can't make use of ALL available space as we'd be in the fecking luggage racks. And of course we're going to move down. I don't want to be next to some fettid hairy dole-scrounging scumbag, and I'm certainly not going to stand in the doorway with a massive suitcase strapped to my back.
Just wait until I get onto my other favourite subject to gormless nobheads who pull "suitcases" on wheels!

Dole Scrounging Scum

Ok, this is my first post so may have to work on the writing style somewhat. But, for my first rant it has to be about dole-scrounging scum. Especially the sort that work (as door-2-door burger sellers, blokes that stand motionless in the street with large placards pointing out that there's a Subway sandwich store to the left, rabbit molestors, cafe waitresses etc). Oh yes. That really gets my goat, and other assorted horsey type of animal.

They usually spend all their time whinging and complaining that they are so poor that they have to shop in one of those cut price supermarkets, but view the contents of their house (which is invariably a 4 bed council house to hold all of their children) you find new bathrooms, replacement kitchens (not that they do any actual cooking - other than reheating a takeaway from the previous night or boiling the kettle for a pot noodle for baby number 5), large flatscreen TVs and a sofa from DFS.

All paid for by yours truly - the working man.

I recently got paid my annual "discretionary" bonus and after working out how much would go to that one-eyed waste of skin (that's Mr Gordon Brown if you are confused) who would then give it all to dole scrounging scum, my blood pressure shot up so much that my eyes popped out of my head and my nuts imploded.

Got to hand it to him though. It's a great way to buy the votes of people who can barely read the big type in The Sun.