Please, just make it stop.

Bragging, elephant-murdering bum-faced buffoon Bob Parsons of GoDaddy, the worlds largest domain name registrar apparently finds murdering elephants with a high-powered rifle to be particularly satisfying. As one of the WWF’s largest global affiliates, my company thinks otherwise and so today I’ve decided that I can’t possibly keep our domains with this gormless prick any longer and in doing so pay for his dim-witted shootathons.

With immediate effect the 52 animal charity-related domain names that we have with his company are being moved to domainmonster.com, and hundreds more of our domain names will follow – this will cost him 500USD each year with immediate effect since the domains in question are due for renewal in a few days time – once the others have moved he’ll be down a few grand of our money every single year from now on and I won’t be darkening his doors again.

Reading the comments on his blog has only reinforced my position.

I’m not one for moral crusades in the slightest but I’m not going to fund his antics and I’d urge anyone in a similar position to do likewise. Yeah they’re cheap, but I’d rather pay a little bit more per domain to know that my money is not only staying in the UK, but isn’t lining the pockets of an unprincipled, macho, sexist cock-end with an ill-advised earring. Hope you go hunting with Donald Rumsfeld sometime soon you beady-eyed ballbag.

GoDaddy – GoFuckYourself.

L

Just reading a couple of hotel reviews on Trip Advisor. You know you can discount comments from a certain reviewer when someone says something like this: “The staff are very polite and well mannered. At dinner you get seated and a waiter gets your drinks, it is all very professional”.

Fu-cking-hell. Now that’s service…

Where in the name of arse do you normally stay?

“normally where we stay it’s self-service and we have to add water to a variety of pot noodles so this was a real treat. We felt like royalty for the whole week.”

OK, so I made that bit up, but still….

L

The modern day equivalent of “the cheque’s in the post”.

Why is it that someone will ask you to get something for them and then be completely unable or unprepared to pay you for it? I don’t wish to sound petty, and anyone who knows me will hopefully know that I am a pretty generous person with both my time and what little money I have left each month – but I do get a bit sick and tired of people asking me to go out of my way to pick things up for them and then having no means of reimbursing me when I rock up with the goods, and then subsequently conveniently forgetting all about it.

This leaves one with 2 options. Nag them about it and potentially appear petty, or get over it and pay for it yourself.

Too often I seem to wuss out and see the latter as the easy course of  action. It’s ok when it’s a one-off but persistent offenders are plainly either taking the piss, or are just clueless dicks. Or both.

Henceforth I shall not allow the piss to be taken and will go out of my way to take option 1 and potentially appear petty.

Family and close friends are excluded from this rant as I love you and you’re welcome to anything I have. Randoms and casual acquaintances are not. I don’t do it to others, so don’t do it to me. If you expect me to go out of my way for your benefit I ask nothing more than to be compensated for what it cost me – and perhaps a thankyou. I don’t think this is too much to ask.

Failing that just be honest: “Will you please buy this for me?”

I might, I might not, but at least we’ll both be being honest.

L

I have just walked past 2 children, one on a perfectly normal bike, the other peddaling a small plastic tractor along the pavement.

I had an (almost) overwhelming urge to swagger up to the wannabe Young Farmer, grin smugly, and utter the words ‘mate, that’s a shit tractor’, before walking away, leaving a disillusioned child in my wake.

I don’t  know why I felt compelled to do this, but the very fact that I did not makes me feel slightly less evil and joyless – on the outside at least.

To be fair though, it was a particularly shit tractor.

L

Dear Old People,

Why do you insist on going supermarket shopping weekday lunchtimes? You can go shopping whenever you like, so why pick the busiest time of the day when every wage-slave in the country is running around like a blue-arsed fly trying to buy a sub-standard sandwich from somewhere before returning to an afternoon of facebook, clock-watching and tepid office flirtation.

You could go in the mornings or the afternoons when all you’d have to contend with is the unemployed buying scratchcards and shiny pink sandwich ham and value bread, but no – you all go shopping at peak times and womble around cluttering up the aisles like heavily-sedated telepathic bollards.

Granted, you’re pre-programmed to a degree – you’ve probably become conditioned to shopping at lunchtimes back when you had a similarly soul-mangling job and made a valid contribution to society, but now that sole purpose of your days is propping up the teabag and cake industries and talking about your ailments you could probably do this during quieter periods – for your sake as much as everyone else’s. Dont wibble about tutting loudly at anyone who appears to be in a rush – you’re actually the reason we have to dart about like coke-fuelled meerkats for an hour each day.

Thanks for that. Thanks a lot.

Oh, and get off the roads please.

That would be awesome.

L

PS. I got through that tirade-ette without having to resort to mentioning the fact that some of you smell a little bit.

I just wish… I just wish… I just wish Scouting for Girls would fuck off.

I just wish… I just wish… I just wish Scouting for Girls would fuck off.

(But I’ll get by without your shite, and I’ll get through without you)

L