Short Rant on Scum I
After three weeks away I return feeling like a wanderer crossing the Sahara desert, minus the scraggly beard and rags for clothes – ok just the former. In actuality the duration of my absence has resembled a family meal at the horseman Pestilence’s house, what with using more tissues than an average over-sexed teen upon discovering their father’s prized collection of Playboys. Since events have left me with more excess bile than you can drown a Hydra in I’ll project my inadequacies onto a scenario I held witness to during the illness period. A somewhat haunting scenario because it could well be used as the fucking portrait for modern life, or life in ‘Great’ Britain at least. This whole symbolic indictment was simply a chav-tastic (trailer trash or wiggas to you sweaty foreign types) couple buying more alcohol than George Best when he is trying to fill the storage in his nuclear bomb shelter. Which may not seem as bad as I am about to make it especially when you consider Britannia is by all definitions a chav Valhalla or Chavalhalla, and that bumping into one is as common as finding a misanthropic elf in Rivendell.
The couple where in front of me as I was shopping in Sainsbury’s and as well as having several crates of generic alcohol #57 in a basket, bottles of Cider held in their arms they were also using their fucking baby’s pram as a storage for yet more alcohol. Now accuse me of being more puritanical than a Borg version of Oliver Cromwell but even being a child hating extinctionist I can still see that it is clearly wrong to not only bring your child along as you purchase such a quantity of alcohol anyone would think it was bottles of God’s fucking unfiltered piss, but to use their mode of transport as storage for the deed. This was probably their exact reasoning for having a child in the first place, well, besides that nice weekly cheque that the government will be giving them like a bacon sandwich to the homeless at any rate. And not to mention that the child will probably grow up to murder me as I’m drawing my pension, which is something to look forward to.
You’ll probably feel I’m being overly harsh and I probably am, that’s what weeks of illness will do to you, but it was an image that showed me the sad side of this once great nation an image that haunted me. And besides it is ok because these are the people who feel that because I dress differently from the norm it necessitates starring as though I just broke into their house and pissed all over the living room rug whilst draped in a confederacy flag.