Category: idiocy

Lost without it

This is my Swiss Army knife.

Well, one of them.

This is the larger of the two that I own.

The smaller one doesn’t have quite so many appendages, but it practically lives on my person. I carry it everywhere and it is always handy to have.  As it is always upon me though, I sometimes forget I have it… which is why it annoyingly got confiscated at Gatwick airport, a couple of years ago. Still, it made for a good gift the following Father’s Day.

Its bigger brother (featured above), lives on my desk and – again – is invaluable.

So much so, that a couple of years ago, I gave one to my Dad for Father’s Day, in the hope he would also find it as useful.

He did, and like me he carried it everywhere… which is why he had it confiscated at Heathrow Airport.

You can probably guess what he got for Father’s Day this year.

Phoney

Yesterday, I twice saw mobile phones being used where they shouldn’t be.

The first was yesterday morning, when I was filling the car up with diesel. The chap at the pump in front of me was filling his white BMW X5. At the same time, he was talking on his mobile phone.

There are signs all over the forecourt saying that mobile phones should not be used. And he knew this. This wasn’t ignorance in his part, because he was doing it surreptitiously. With his back toward the attendant at the till, he was filling his car up with one hand, whilst the other held his phone hidden under his open jacket as he talked into it.

I finished what I was doing and drove off. As I passed slowly by him, I gave him a withering look. He looked up at me. “Really?” I said, shaking my head. He did nothing and just went back to his conversation.

Now, I know that operating a mobile phone in a petrol station, is unlikely to cause an explosion. In fact, I believe the main reason that phones should not be operated in that environment, is in case it is dropped and the battery becomes dislodged as it hits the ground, possibly causing a small spark. Again, it’s unlikely that anything would happen if that did occur. Unless there happened to be some spilled petrol on the floor, maybe.  So, the odds are low, but, should the right circumstances come together, the results could be quite catastrophic. Hence why you should NOT use your phone in a petrol station forecourt.

Even if you do own a BMW.

The second instance where I didn’t expect to see a mobile phone being used, was last night, when Mrs Masher and I went to the cinema in Hemel.  A homeless man was laid out in his tatty sleeping bag on the floor outside. Bits of detritus surrounded him:  pizza boxes; paper coffee cups and an upturned flat-cap with some loose change in it, all donated by kindly passers-by.

But, from the angle that Mrs M and I approached him, I could see that he was surreptitiously (again) holding a mobile phone inside his sleeping bag and was was busy texting someone.

I read somewhere that you shouldn’t give money to people sleeping rough, as they are most likely just going to just spend it all on drugs. I don’t know whether that’s true, but I didn’t give him any money as I didn’t want to contribute to his data plan.

Litter

I hate litter.

And I doubly hate litterers.

Last night, when I took the dog for her our evening walk, there were a couple of young lads sitting on the low metal fence that surrounds the green. They were talking loudly and stuffing biscuits and what-have-you down their gullets.

This morning, when I took the dog out for her our morning walk, I passed by the same area.  Biscuit wrappers and empty crisp packets littered the ground, where they had just dropped them and then wandered off. Pure laziness and a complete disregard for the area.

Annoyed at this, I stopped, picked it all up and put it in the bin… which was quite easy to do, as it was less than three metres away!

Something that annoys me just as much – or even more – is fly-tipping.

We have some beautiful country lanes around here and it really gets my blood pressure up when I’m driving/riding along one of them, and I see an old washing machine sitting by the side of the road – dumped there under the cover of darkness and left for the taxpayer to foot the bill for clearing it up and disposing of it properly.

At work, there is an alleyway that runs parallel with the train line at the back of our car park.  The alleyway has high fencing on either side of it.

And yet, someone has gone to a lot of effort to carry an old sofa down this alleyway – can’t have been easy, as it’s quite narrow – and then bodily lift it over a seven-foot high fence, in order to dump it on the grass verge next to the train tracks.  Again, all done in the middle of the night, probably.

It would have likely been easier to take it to the local Tidy Tip, which is about half a mile away.

I know there are fines for littering and also for fly-tipping, but it doesn’t seem to deter anyone as the chances of being caught are negligible.

A stronger penalty is needed, in order to make these people think again about what it is they are doing.

Death, maybe.

Yesterday, I drove like a twat!

This week has been school half term and, as such, I was fully expecting the roads to be much emptier than usual.

I was fully expecting my commute to and from work, to be a doddle. Because it normally is when the schools are off.

But not this week. Oh no: this week, the roads have been as bad as usual.

Nay. Nay. And thrice nay, I tell you, the roads have actually been worse!

The mornings have been slow and torturous, thanks to broken down lorries and accidents. 

But the evenings have been worse. Much worse.

No word of a lie, every night this week, I have been caught up in stationary traffic on my way home, thanks to accidents on the motorway.

Every.

Single.

Fucking.

Evening.

Some have been worse than others. Tuesday night was pretty bad, thanks to a lorry shedding its load of portloos across the M25.  That was quite possibly a real case of the shit hitting the van.

But yesterday evening was truly awful.  Stuck in stationary traffic for ages at the Hemel junction, I found myself starting to get frustrated.  I spend so much time in traffic nowadays, that I’m kind of used to it now and it’s like water off a duck’s back. But, being stuck in stationary traffic for the fourth day in a row, meant it was starting to get to me. Please God, just one day! Just let me have one decent journey home!

Eventually, things started moving again and we all slowly crawled past the five-car shunt that was surrounded by the flashing blue and red lights of the emergency services and in unison we all shouted “Learn to drive, you bastards!”
Well, I shouted it.
In unison with myself.

I have rarely felt so frustrated and I decided to put some music on.  Normally, a bit of Mozart or Bruckner will smooth the waters for me, but, so pent-up was I, I needed something with a bit more oomph. I needed to let it out.

Once past the accident, the road was clear. I put on some AC/DC, turned the volume up and put my foot down; singing at the top of my voice. Well, I call it singing, but it was more like shouting really.

At junction 11, the end of the slip road divides into three lanes. Two are for turning left and the third is for going straight on or for turning right. They are marked accordingly. But, very often, impatient drivers will get into the middle lane and then cut across to turn right, forcing the vehicle in the right hand lane to give way or risk hitting them. It happens to me quite often and normally I will let them in, just to avoid having a prang in my car. “Tsk”, I’ll say.

But, it happened again last night and this time I didn’t give way.  My still pent-up frustration, boiled over into anger and -fuelled by Brian Johnson screaming at me that I was Back In Black – I refused to let this opportunist get eight feet in front of me.  But, having flown down the middle lane at speed, he had a speed advantage on the roundabout and I was ultimately forced to brake and let him in. 

Where normally I would have tutted and let it go, this time I let him know he was a twat. I flashed my lights at him and then I followed him round the roundabout at speed, just a couple of feet off his rear bumper. We headed up the short stretch of dual carriageway at a quick pace and then took the first left turning.  Still I hung onto his tail lights. We blatted down the road together, completely ignoring the 20mph speed limit… until I suddenly realised what I was doing. This bloke was driving like a complete twat, but I was too.

I slowed down and let him speed off down the road. He was probably chuffed with himself for having left me behind, but I didn’t care.

I turned the music down, slowed to within the speed limit and took a deep breath.

My first ever bit of road rage. 

I didn’t like it.

Cleaning up the gene pool

As internet “challenge” crazes go, this has to be one of the more stupid.

Andy Warhol promised that we would all get our 15 minutes of fame.

Personally, I’m not interested.

But, many are and they crave that recognition. 

And they will do almost anything – it seems –  to get it.

Including posting up videos of themselves eating laundry detergent as part of the “Tide Pod Challenge“!

When we have young children, we educate them to the dangers of such things. We put child-safe locks on the cupboard doors to prevent them having access to detergents and bleaches and other dangerous cleaning chemicals. And we continue to warn them of such things until we know they are old enough to realise the dangers themselves.

And then some fucking moron comes along on YouTube and shows them how cool he is, by eating such stuff.

To their credit, YouTube have been quick to remove the videos and Proctor & Gamble – the manufacturers of Tide Pods – have released warnings about trying this, on several social media platforms.

But it wasn’t quick enough to stop dozens of other Darwin Award contenders from giving it a go and then subsequently ending up in hospital with poisoning.

News of these idiots, has been reported in newspapers and on the radio and television news outlets around the world.

Fame at last.

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