Category: Whinge

  • Up in smoke

    fireworksThe Council switched the Christmas lights on this week. And a bloomin’ good show they put on too, with a gigantic TV screen in the Market Square and fireworks – lots of ’em. I watched them from my bedroom window. BOOOOOOOOOM – Aaaaah! BAANNNNG!!! – Aaaaha! SWOOOOOSH, KABUUUUUUUUM – Oooooooooooh! I love fireworks. However, these things come at a price. Now I don’t know how much the show cost to put on this year, but I would guess about £10,000, maybe even higher.

    I’ve been out of work for just over eight months now, and money is getting a bit tight. I can’t get any help, because the missus is working. Not even Council Tax rebate. I’ve made my redundancy money, just short of £3,000 last for eight months. So by a simple calculation, if the fireworks cost 10 Grand, that would have paid my bills for nearly 27 months.

    It puts my meagre little existence into perspective really, doesn’t it?

  • Enough to send you bleeping mad!

    Radar screenAnother observation about television land. Have you noticed, almost without exception, every time a computer screen is featured in a film or drama, it bleeps and whistles like R2D2 on friggin’ acid?

    Query: Bleeeeeeeeep blip blip blip dooooooooop!

    Zoom in: dit dit dit dit dit bweeeeeeeeb!

    Locked on target: Bloooop bloooop bloooop!

    Gimme a friggin’ break! Computers don’t do that. At least mine doesn’t, else I’d give it a good kicking. No. I’m afraid, once again, it’s done for dramatic effect, just like the Hollywood swallow and gun holding as my previous whinges.

  • Strictly no BBC1

    Well, I must have been a happy bunny for the last few weeks, as I haven’t posted for a while. But today was a dark, dark day for me. Note the date: 26th August.

    Today I heard the first mention of a new series of ‘Strictly Come Dancing’. It was on the Breakfast news this morning, although quite what it has to do with news is beyond me. I have no doubt this programme is going to get blanket coverage on BBC1 for several months to come (see my previous post).

    Be afraid. Be very afraid. Da da da da, da da daa, Da da da da, daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggghhh!!!

  • Bowls of wood???

    I’m out of work at the moment and every time the little lady walks out the door on her way to work I must admit that I do feel little pangs of guilt (now and then). So, yesterday I decided I’d better do my bit and make an effort to help around the house. I’d do the vacuuming and dusting.

    Now, it’s not exactly hard work, but fuck is it fiddly!. By fiddly, I mean all those bloody ornaments scattered all over the house. They all have to be moved to dust underneath them, then all dusted individually as well.

    And there’s loads of them – I counted 103 to be precise, all without function. Lanterns, candles, pictures, dolls, bottles, bowls of dried wood. Bowls of dried wood!!! What the fuck’s all that about?

    Well, I did it this time, but that’s dusting ruled out of my life from now on. If she wants to keep bowls of dried wood, she can dust ’em herself.

  • Goody – do we really need it?

    The TV news is at it again this morning, no doubt the radio too but I haven’t listened. Jade Goody has died of cancer. This story took up the first 13 minutes of BBC News 24’s bulletin this morning and was mentioned another three times in the next half hour. Why?

    Check the stats. About 425 people die from this awful disease EVERY DAY in the UK. Why didn’t the other 424 get a mention on the news? What makes JG special? From what I could make out, she was a fat, gobby, talentless showoff.

    I’m sorry, I just don’t understand this ‘celebrity culture’. And I think that those that do understand it should also lend a thought to the other 424 people that died today. Better still, go here and make a donation.

  • Gissa job!

    Well, today was my last day in my present job. I have been made redundant. I have known for a few weeks, having worked out my notice. So have the bosses who made the decision.

    Neither of them are here today to say a simple “thanks and good luck”. Nor did they find time to say it before today. I think it’s disgraceful.

  • Gissa job.

    I’m job hunting at the moment. So, I sit down with the job supplement out of the local paper and search through the pages.

    What’s all this crap I’m faced with? Job titles such as ‘Corporate Performance Officer’, Crisis Worker’, ‘Financial Inclusion Officer’ and my personal favourite, ‘Sector Facilitator’.

    Perhaps if I knew what they actually meant, I might apply for them. Gissa job!

  • Firty-fahsand fevvers.

    Shall I tell you what gets on my nerves? Well, loads of stuff actually, but today I’ll have a moan about the things people say.

    I was listening to the Today programme on BBC Radio 4 on my way to work this morning (I usually pick up a word I’ve never heard before – today it was ‘ululate‘) and it’s amazing how many people respond to a question or statement with the word ‘absolutely’. Absolutely what? Everybody’s saying it. You just listen out for it. It gets on my friggin’ nerves!

    What else? Ah, yes! People who follow a statement with ‘It really does’ or ‘I really do’. For example “I like chocolate, I really do”. I know you do, you just fucking told me once!

    Other things people say that make my toes curl:- ‘err’ or ‘um’ or ‘like’ at the beginning of every sentence. ‘you know’ or ‘understand’ at the end of sentences. Some other tosser phrases I hate:- ‘as I say’, ‘at the end of the day’, ‘when all said and done’. There are many, many more. I may make a list one day. Or maybe not.

    And it’s not just what they say, it’s how they say it. Why do so many people now pronounce ‘th’ as ‘f’ or ‘v’, as in “firty-fahsand fevvers on a frushes froat” – “How do you spell that, my man?” – “You don’t spell it – it’s a fuckin’ number!”

    Now if you were a thick cockney twat off East Enders, I might forgive you for talking like that, but a growing number of kids (and adults) are speaking that way too. Aren’t schools teaching the Queen’s English any more? And don’t get me started on the written word and grammar! Well perhaps in another post.

    P.S. Sad bastard as I am, I’m going to monitor the TV and radio tomorrow and count how many times people respond with the word ‘absolutely’. Gripping stuff, eh?

  • Snooker loopy? Not me!

    “Ooooo, did you watch the snooker final?” everyone’s asking me. No, I fucking didn’t! And shall I tell you why? Well, I’ll tell you anyway. It’s because all the players feel the need to to wiggle their middle finger whilst cueing up a shot.

    What the fuck’s all that about? They never used to do it years ago. Now they all do it. It infuriates me. It makes me want to either hack off the offending digit with a professional-sized meat cleaver, or stick it to the baize with industrial strength super glue. But I can’t do either.

    I could hurl a piece of furniture at the TV set, but that would just be plain daft. So I choose not to watch it. Snooker – what a load of balls!

  • Ice, Ice, Baby.

    Ice, Ice, Baby.

    I smugly watched all my neighbours this morning scraping ice from the windows of their cars. They all had their motors running, exhaust polluting the atmosphere, while they scraped. And scraped. And scraped.

    All of them, to a person, have a garage. And where do they park? On the fucking road, two wheels on the pavement as is standard nowadays, causing an obstruction both on the pavement so that mothers with pushchairs have to step into the road to get around the vehicle, and to road users who have to skilfully weave in and out of the cars parked on either side of the road.

    Meanwhile their garages remain full of cardboard boxes and carrier bags full of crap that they will never use but they’re either too lazy or stingy to get rid of it. So they park on the pavement. Brilliant!

    So, as I watched them scrapety-scraping their screens, I lifted my garage door, got into my warm car and drove straight off. Moral of the tale? – Use your garage for what it was fucking built for. Tossers!

  • S-L-O-W-L-Y does it…

    Have you noticed the really annoying trend that seems to be the growing tendency amongst TV announcers to t-a-l-k r-e-a-l-l-y s-l-o-o-o-o-w-l-y when introducing programmes?

    “Commming uup onn- Iiiiiiii-Teeeeee-Veeeeee-Twoooo, the stoooory ooof a mootherrr annnd”….. FUCK OFF!!!!

    Is this so thickies can keep up, or is it just the patronizing manner of the announcers? Either way, it’s bloody annoying. And while I’m at it, have you noticed how loads of actors, especially on the British soaps (not that I watch them) almost always give a deep sigh after their first sentence.

    “Oh, Ricky(khaaa)”… “Shut it(khaaa)”. Try to talk like that – it’s impossible. If you did, people would look at you a bit strange.

    On American shows, however, everybody either mumbles or whispers. Take for example the totally unfeasible but highly entertaining ’24’. You can go through the whole show with almost all the dialogue being inaudible. So much so, in fact, that you don’t actually know what’s going on.

    And while I’m on about this silly show, what’s with all this two-handed holding of pistols that all the cops/robbers/FBI agents/serial killers do now? They move from corner to corner, wielding their guns at arm’s length, swinging them around like they’re practicing at throwing the hammer.

    Whatever happened to good, old-fashioned gun-holding like they did in the early Bond films? Where they just pointed a floppily-held pistol in the general direction of their adversary… and still managed to hit them!

  • I don’t get it…

    …trick or treat that is. Can someone tell what’s in it for me? Kids come round knocking on the door and announce ‘trick or treat’. If I say ‘treat’, I have to give them something – I lose. If I say ‘trick’, they play a prank on me – I lose. How fucking fair is that?

    Can someone explain the logic of this? I know t-or-t came over from the states, but the origins of it were that the poor used to beg at the doors of the wealthy and, in return for food, would pray for the giver’s dead relatives. Fair play, I can understand that. But how did we get to the nonsense we have now? What kind of morals are the kids going to have when they grow up if we allow them to go knocking on doors, demanding treats with threats?

    I’m going to start a new ‘tradition’ where adults go round knocking on doors and when kids answer, they say ‘kick up the arse or kick up the arse?’. I think it could catch on.