The thing I like about posting blog stuff by Posterous is that you can pretend you are simply sending an e-mail to a good friend, the sort of friend who wouldn't mind if you had a good old whine and, you know, let rip about something that was really getting on your tits. Take, for instance the snow. This is not a snow-moan - there has been enough of those. My message to anyone who moans out loud about the snow is this: WE ALL HAVE THE SAME WHITE STUFF. IT BUGS THE SHIT OUT OF ALL OF US, NOW GET ON WITH LIFE DESPITE THE SNOW LIKE THE REST OF US. That wasn't my rant. My rant is about car drivers, sorry, that's not fair. Some of you (I include myself in this category) are quite good. You slow down or move aside for a pedestrian who, due to three feet of snow on the footpath, finds it safer to walk at the edge of the clearer road. No, this rant is about the rest of you idiots who seem to think that once you climb inside your metal cocoon you are only governed by the bits of the Highway Code you can remember from when you passed your test, probably thirty of forty years ago, oh except of course you didn't read the bit about pedestrians having right of way and being rather more vulnerable - due to their lack of a metal box protecting them. These motorists seem to have separated their behaviour from things like 'good manners' or 'common decency' to a kind of arrogance that transcends gender, race, sexuality and binds them together in a one-worldliness based around a common value of behaving like an arsehole. So, if you were the man whose wing mirror clipped me as I trudged wearily through the snow to work the other morning and thought that shouting at me in a loud voice questioning why I was walking in the road (duh!), and who I shamefacedly admit got the brunt of some rather ungentlemanly ripostes on my part, if you are that man, this is for you.
I appeal to the British public at large to seek new role models of motoring that are not modelled on Mr Toad in Tales Of The Riverbank and whose response to pedestrians was to bawl "Get out of my way!", or role models that don't aspire to the epitome of masculine arrogance Jeremy Clarkson who seems to be breeding arrogance of a scale that rides roughshod (or should that be drives in some sort of four wheel drive monster truck) over any semblance of an idea that the idea of the internal combustion engine doesn't equate somehow to a deity, preventing us from considering that life might, some day, actually continue without motor cars. There now, that's better, thanks Posterous. PS The superb image is from Flickr, here's the link:
I appeal to the British public at large to seek new role models of motoring that are not modelled on Mr Toad in Tales Of The Riverbank and whose response to pedestrians was to bawl "Get out of my way!", or role models that don't aspire to the epitome of masculine arrogance Jeremy Clarkson who seems to be breeding arrogance of a scale that rides roughshod (or should that be drives in some sort of four wheel drive monster truck) over any semblance of an idea that the idea of the internal combustion engine doesn't equate somehow to a deity, preventing us from considering that life might, some day, actually continue without motor cars. There now, that's better, thanks Posterous. PS The superb image is from Flickr, here's the link:
4 comments:
Ah Mr Croft, welcome to the day to day life of the average idiot that chooses to ride a bike regularly on our fair(ly crap) roads.
I am routinely both ladys parts and mens, an anus of varying descriptions, regularly engaging in sexual congress with my mother. Seemingly I am a test of motoring accuracy and targret practice. There would appear to be some sort of unwritten prize for overtaking me and then turning left as soon after as possible. I shouldnt be on the roads/pavements/planet. I have been abused whist parked on the road waiting aat traffic lights for being a C*** who always jumps red lights on the pavement. It would be great if we had more snow and more erstwhile drivers had to run the gauntlet of the motorised demi-god who obviously does have the receipt for that paticular bit of road in his/her (but usually his) pocket. It's a harsh lesson to learn but one that many people could do with, especially the unique brand of homicidal lunatic that makes Oldham Road slightly more dangerous that jogging through the Lion enclosure at Knowsley Safari Park wearing only a coating of Bisto.
Signed shouldbeinbed (who's forgotten his password again)
So it was you! You blighter! Don't you realise that there are footpaths for pedestrians? That is where you walk while those of us in cars travel on the roads. As that irritating meercat says - it's simplez! You will shortly be receiving an invoice re. my damaged wing mirror. May I also advise a few appointments with a psycho-therapist with regard to the venomous abuse you expleted upon me after you had damaged my car.
Ah, Crofty I fear you may have some Woppit alleles lurking in your genome. All goes back to my theory of a single very very grumpy ancestor - bless him. Here's another thing. It's the bloody news reporting of the snow that makes my shit hang sideways. You know what I mean - the "your pictures" section of the news. Always full of tittering cretins standing next to a snowman. Always the same, always crap.
Knowsley Safari Park is no place to mess with. I remember reporting on a council debate when they were considering opening it.
One concerned councillor was worried about what might happen if a lion esczped.
"They'll just have to take their chances, like everyone else" was the response.
Post a Comment