Archive for August, 2010|Monthly archive page

Things that make me angry – Pt. I

In editorial on August 20, 2010 at 15:17
  • Farm equipment on the A27
  • Cyclists
  • Over-zealous jobsworths (council workers, police, binmen)
  • Labour
  • Health warnings on tobacco
  • Most playwrights
  • Artistic abstractions
  • Interpretive dance

I’m still working on this list. It is by no means comprehensive.


On Americans, OAPs, and the real Commonwealth heroes

In editorial on August 15, 2010 at 10:12

Do you hate cyclists?  I do.

The road that I take to work, in this tourist infested part of England, is frequented by a special kind of cyclist at this time of year. Mostly Americans, marvelling at how much the Sussex Downs look like Kentucky (why not just go to Kentucky, then?), riding around on rented bicycles with asses that look like they stuffed a waterbed into a pair of Wranglers (thanks, Rich).

My commute, which when I get a late train back from London takes about 10 minutes from the station to my house, can take up to an hour when these loons are out enjoying an exhausting loll through the B-roads of Sussex. But they’re not really the cause of the problem – even though I wish they were, so I could scorn them ever more. No, the cause are the white-topped-barely-seeing-over-the-steering-wheel geriatrics, who probably should have stopped driving in the 1970s.

For some reason, it is eminently difficult for these people to pass a small, narrow (apart from the aforementioned ass) vehicle, even with no oncoming traffic. Their usual  rate of travel (25mph) is thus reduced to a crawl, as they await either the cyclists to turn, or pitch over from their inevitable heart attack because the most exercise they’ve had is to walk to the car to drive 500 yards to the Piggly Wiggly for their daily dose of Krispy Kreme and aerosol cheese.

So, to the geriatrics: we love you. Really. You fought in wars that we cannot possibly fathom so we could enjoy the privilege of complaining about you. We will support and honour you to your – and our – deaths. But, please, in the name of all that is good in this land, stop driving.  I will personally collect you and take you to Tesco.

And, to the Americans who are everywhere within earshot, this time of year – even when up to a mile away – stop behaving like imbeciles.

You don’t own Britain, the banks do. Britain doesn’t owe you the right to behave like twats. The Canadians, the Australians, and just about everybody else in the free world were here happily fighting for Queen and country alongside the unflappable British, long before you were.

You didn’t eradicate the Nazi menace. The Commonwealth did. So, as you can’t be forced to go home, please just use your hired cars. It’s the easiest way to get to McDonald’s, anyway.