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:
