I have said many a time that you should enjoy the little things.
This is a statement that I have stood by for many years and not just because I saw ‘Zombieland’ that one time and thought “that’s a good moto.”
It’s just a nice way to enjoy what little time we have on this planet.
But it’s also the little things that annoy me the most. Simple little things, like the exact moment that I decide that it’s time for bed the crows start making a shit load of noise in the tree across the street.
If I could get my hands on some detonator caps and a remote system I would wire the fuck out of that tree and the second they started up with their squawking and shagging and whatever they fuck crows do in trees at 3am… BOOM!
I’ll be watching from my front room window with a scotch in one hand and my stiff dick in the other as the tree gets blasted into matchwood. Knowing my luck the widow will probably blow in and I’ll get cut to ribbons but at least the crows will be dead, the beady eyed fucks.
I wonder if any hippies will have a go at me because I want to blow up “an innocent tree, man.” Hang yourself from a tree you unwashed patchouli stinking bastards. No one wants to see your fire poi routine around here… juggling is not a career.
It’s not so bad when you’re eating them as well but when it’s just them every sound, chomp and rustle of the packet is almost amplified. No one should line up their next hand full the way some people do, like they are looking for the perfect crisp before stuffing it into their gaping maws with an over enthusiastic smiling crunch.
Or when the person in front of you at the checkout forgets how to super market and dithers about for a huge period of time. First they split their bag, then they completely forget how to use their bank card, then at the last minute they have remembered that they have a load of coupons.
It’s when they look at you and say “sorry.” You’re not fucking sorry because if you were, you wouldn’t be wasting my life waiting for you to stop being a fucking retard. You’ve had that bank card for years and today is the day you’re going to finally use it… wanker!
If you can’t remember four fucking single numbers then you need to be shot.
It does make me chuckle when you see old folk either totally avoid or get really confused by the self-service checkouts. They look around blankly waiting for one of the checkout assistants while holding up a cucumber as if it’s faulty of something.
I once heard an old lady say to her husband “it’s so technical isn’t it; those checkout girls must have to go on a course or something.” No, no it really isn’t, if anything the self-service checkout shows us just how easy it is to work on a check out.
This isn’t to say that they don’t have a hard job. I couldn’t do that all day. A steady stream of dickheads with their baskets and trollies of crap pouring through the aisles. Stupid questions abounding, often with a gang of misbehaving children that they cannot control grabbing at every item of brightly coloured packaging they can.
“But mum, if you don’t buy me this huge multi pack of crisps you’re a cunt!”
Children should be banned from supermarkets. It would make the whole consumer experience better for people that actually carry money.
There are 101 places and events that would be greatly improved by the absence of children. Take for example the London Aquarium. This is one of my favourite places to visit in London and I have been there several times over the years and every time there has been some brat that has spoilt it for me.
One time I was really looking forward to see the giant red octopus that they have as I am a fan of the creatures in general. I find them fascinating. So I approach the massive dome tank that it’s in and wait for the beast to emerge from under this rock in the tank. Just as it’s about to emerge from it hideout some fucking bastard child starts to pound on the glass scaring it back under the rock.
Its parents (handlers) didn’t even bother to correct the child. I wanted to beat the shit out of that kid and throw his battered, bloodied body into the shark tank.
There are signs all over the place telling you not to bang on the glass as it can not only startle the animals but hurt them in some cases. I hope that one day that child is raped by a giant octopus-man and left for dead to be eaten by crab people, his carcass then used as a spawning ground for homeless hagfish.
That or he gets snatched my some Romanian gypsies in Leicester Square and sold into slavery… I live in hope.
Another place I think they should ban children is restaurants. I was on this date thing a while back and being the sophisticated gentleman I took my lady friend to Pizza Hut. We ordered a large spicy chicken and I pushed the boat out and got two side orders of garlic bread. What can I say, I’m a romantic.
But it was while I was at the all you can eat, self-service salad bar where I saw a child away from her parents pouring some kind of dressing over all of the items on the salad bar. Once again my mind switched into psycho mode and I could feel my blood boil over.
I wanted to slam that kids head into that salad bar over and over again until her splattered brains became one of the salad items. Just next to the potato salad and under the bacon bits.
Again, the parents didn’t really correct the girl and said nothing to the staff. The little fucker was then treated like some kind of princess and helped herself to the self-service ice cream.
That fucking child is going to grow up wrong.
I hope that family flipped their car on the motorway on the way home.