Entirely Innocent People Part 2
'Eeeeee, I'm not being a bother am I?'
Oh no my good woman. No bother at all. I mean, I've seen you WALKING around town before now, but I can think of no good reason why today you should not choose to use your little sit-down-scooter-thing to get around. Perhaps you are a bit tired. And let's face it, you are OLD. So you can do pretty much whatever you like. If I had a sit-down-scooter-thing I would ride upon it EVERYWHERE. And hold people up on the bus when the driver has to get out of his cab to let the little ramp-thing down, hence making EVERYONE late as you quibble about the various fares on offer and ask intensive questions about your return journey of which the driver has no knowledge.
No. Honestly. No Bother At All as you park yourself diagonally on the pavement to conduct a conversation of great and time-sensitive import to an equally Old Person who has made the effort to actually Walk Around today. No bother that you have booked the entire pavement as your own personal conversation point. Would you like me to fetch you both a cup of tea? Because I'm at a bit of a loose end now. What with the pushchair and that. Were I alone, I could probably nip round you. I can be quite nimble. Not with a pushchair however. Do you see the child in it who cannot walk safely for any distance who will be five years old when you are dead?
No, of course you and your conversation are far more important. Do not spare a thought for people who will not be dead in one year's time. The pedastrian crossing that we need to get to is two foot beyond your Oldsmobile. It is now beeping. I have missed it. It will take another 15 minutes before it will let me cross again. Unless I play chicken with half a tonne of moving steel and a child. Which I am not anxious to do.
I am out of breath, hot, and eager to get home. Things being well, I expect to live at least another 50 years.
So no. No bother at all.
Fucking crippled cunt.
Oh no my good woman. No bother at all. I mean, I've seen you WALKING around town before now, but I can think of no good reason why today you should not choose to use your little sit-down-scooter-thing to get around. Perhaps you are a bit tired. And let's face it, you are OLD. So you can do pretty much whatever you like. If I had a sit-down-scooter-thing I would ride upon it EVERYWHERE. And hold people up on the bus when the driver has to get out of his cab to let the little ramp-thing down, hence making EVERYONE late as you quibble about the various fares on offer and ask intensive questions about your return journey of which the driver has no knowledge.
No. Honestly. No Bother At All as you park yourself diagonally on the pavement to conduct a conversation of great and time-sensitive import to an equally Old Person who has made the effort to actually Walk Around today. No bother that you have booked the entire pavement as your own personal conversation point. Would you like me to fetch you both a cup of tea? Because I'm at a bit of a loose end now. What with the pushchair and that. Were I alone, I could probably nip round you. I can be quite nimble. Not with a pushchair however. Do you see the child in it who cannot walk safely for any distance who will be five years old when you are dead?
No, of course you and your conversation are far more important. Do not spare a thought for people who will not be dead in one year's time. The pedastrian crossing that we need to get to is two foot beyond your Oldsmobile. It is now beeping. I have missed it. It will take another 15 minutes before it will let me cross again. Unless I play chicken with half a tonne of moving steel and a child. Which I am not anxious to do.
I am out of breath, hot, and eager to get home. Things being well, I expect to live at least another 50 years.
So no. No bother at all.
Fucking crippled cunt.
posted by Tired Dad at
11:40 pm
9 Comments:
You've done it again, haven't you? Absolutely bloody wonderful. Could you bear to go to the supermarket and see them in non-action, blocking the aisles with their trollies? They'll be laboriously counting out the exact money in change next, rather than just handing over a fiver.
Speaking as the proud owner of an FCC, I have to say that I agree with your observations. However, when I tell her of your diatribe, you are a dead (or at the very least 'run over') man.
Keep looking behind you :)
Oldsmobile - top punning
MM: Never mind asking obscure questions regarding the Dry-Cleaning run that has not existed since 1986 when all you want is twenty fags and the three husks of humanity in front of you brandishing their lottery tickets (ask yourself people, do you even LOOK like a winner?)to cease to exist. FUCK ME.
Anon: I'll keep them peeled.
Amanda: Encourage them to ask the questions. Keep a small prize handy for the forst one who admits 'actually, I am idle. And being old I think I shall take full advantage.'
Marketing: A very weak pun I thought, but thanks. Who are you? Do not be so quick to jump on the monkey nom-de-plume bandwagon. They are real people and will GET YOU if you are not a blood relative.
Why the fuck do you let them off so easy? They come scooting down the sidewalk like goddam Michael Schumacher, and they'll sure as hell beep at you if you get in their way. Look, I understand the frustration of having difficulty getting around, because my wife's in a wheelchair. But when I take her to the store or the movies or whatever I try to make sure we're taking no more than our share of the pavement. On the other hand, there's equally people walking around on their two excellent legs who make it impossible for the rest of the world to pass, and they're just as bad. And I'm such a sweetheart I hardly ever run into them with the wheelchair -- well, only after saying "Excuse me" twice and getting no response. Screw them all. My wife won't say a word, except to complain about the ambulatory assholes who take up the wheelchair parking spots (I can't get her out of the car without enough space on the side).
The only reason I don't carry a crowbar around with me is because I'm afraid I would use it.
Vehicle-activated IED.
I'm using the infra-red sensor off an electric garage door for the trigger.
A: Yes, I'd forgotten about the supposedly completly able examples of humanity whith so little sense of their surroundings or even any basic concept that OTHER PEOPLE MIGHT BE TRYING TO GET SOMEWHERE THIS CENTURY you often wonder how they live through the day. And begin imagining amusing scenarious in which they do not.
Overnight. Fuck me. I had to look that up. Jesus, people say I have problems. VERY WELL DONE.
Slash the tyres. No point slashing the throat they've not long anyroad.
What are they called? That the police use? Stingers?
That would be good.
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home