Please, just make it stop.

Why is it that supermarket car parks are full of brainless and incredibly lazy people who’ll happily spend five minutes trying to find a parking space 25 yards closer to the store than to park in one one the several hundred empty ones less than 30 seconds walk further away?

I find that these days it’s far easier to park 2/3rds of the way out of the car park as you tend to completely avoid the brainless lazy fuckers mentioned above who are all busy clogging the arteries of the car park while waiting a minute or two for someone to reverse out of a parking space three spaces closer than the empty one they drove past a second or two earlier…

I can park 100 yards away, still get into the store a couple of minutes before them, stand far less risk of getting my car damaged as they try to get the car doors opened wide enough to squeeze their fat arses out, and ultimately get out of the car park a fuck of a lot faster too!

Dicks.

L

…tell that prick from ‘Polaris World’ that his company would be considerably more successful if they replaced his shitting terrible presence on his adverts with that of someone capable of uttering something intelligible and perhaps even capable of separating words in some meaningful way.

It seems that appears on his own adverts because he’s hoping to achieve some notoriety and fame in a vain attempt to draw a line through his appearance as that of a rich frustrated 40-something virgin who can’t even buy a fuck.

I feel I need a little more phlegm to denounce his awful presentation skills in an appropriate manner.

Is there a welshman in the house?

It seems that they have an almost parallel existence apart from the weather – they have similarly phlegm-reliant languages, a similar devotion to ovine and caprine cruelty, no sustainable independent economy etc…

L

Anyone who refers to espresso as ‘expresso’.

Please Die.

L

I was out somewhere grotty with work recently – the place I was at having something of a reputation for being a bit of a hole, and from what I’d seen of it on several visits this was a reputation that it had earned entirely on its own merit, through true and unswervingly persistent dedication to the cause – quite how I’ve escaped from this place on several occasions without dying of several aggressive forms of cancer simultaneously while still on-site I will never know – suffice to say, I can only hope this lucky streak of mine persists. Anyway, I digress…

Imagine my surprise when, on summoning up the courtage to visit the toilets in this particular establishment, I found them to be the only impeccably clean area in a place otherwise thoroughly rotten with decay and filth.

My dilemma was brought about by this simple sign:

I pondered smearing excrement up the walls and pissing in the towel dispenser but decency won out in the end, sadly.

L

L

…surely I’m not the only one amused by the fact that we as a nation have a cabinet minister called Ed Balls?

L

…for anyone in this country to walk around a supermarket unaided. It seems that every Thomas, Richard and Harriet finds solo shopping so unpalateable and unpredictable that their only option is to phone a loved / liked / tolerated / despised one to assist them in their pursuit of grocery ownership.

Although this in itself does not necessarily constitute a problem, it does lead to a proliferation of dazed zombified pricks wandering the aisles and most importantly of all, said dazed zombified pricks constantly getting in my fucking way.

I call on Tesco, Sainsburys and all other supermarkets to invest heavily in radio jamming technology to rid our shopping emporia of these ballbags once and for all.

This menace must be eradicated.

L