others bother me

We can`t smoke in the pubs. Pubs that stop serving beer at 11 o`clock. Should we fancy a quiet pint after 11 o`clock, off to the busy and noisy town centre we have to go. It`s always raining. Yes, this is England.
So o.k. we are fed up with this place, let`s go to Spain. A couple of hours away by plane. Nice warm weather. Bars open past 2 o`clock in the morning. A relaxing atmosphere. It`s a break from this bleak country. Lifts the spirits and makes us feel well and less depressed for a couple of weeks.
Other people have different ideas. They put more airport tax on us. A group called Plane Stupid who don`t like the aviation industry want to trap us on this damp island when I want to go to the island of Majorca.
I want to go away. So do millions of others. Don`t price the average person out of going on a foreign holiday. Fine, if somebody doesn't like airplanes, let them go to some British resort and suffer it`s unpredictable climate. Let them stop drinking at 11 O`clock. Let them drag their kids, kicking and screaming out of the pubs at six because the laws say so. Please leave the aviation industry to provide us with cheap get aways. The rain is belting down outside and the pubs are shut. Just past midnight now and I wish I was in Spain.

Members of Parliament. These are interesting people (joke) that are always bothering people. The question is this: If I picked out one-hundred people off the street at random, how many of them would have over one million quid in the bank? If I were to pick one-hundred members of parliament at random, how many of them would not be millionaires? How dare these rich people force laws upon us? Put up the price of a pint, tell us to stop smoking and make us pay dearly for a shag that procreated a child. Of course the payment for a child only takes into account £125,000 of income (or whatever it is) and ignores the millions earned after it.

The grass is always greener

Not always. Not sometimes. Very rarely is greener on the other side of the fence. It`s an old saying but relevant to me. I cut grass for a living. Fuck sake, writing this blog is as boring as the job it`s self. What makes it interesting is the people involved. Having an anally retentive supervisor, Garry Wellis, is a real pain in the arse. At present he is off sick with a willy (penis) problem. Poor chap. No sympathy from me. I hate him. No, don`t even think its a personality thing just with me. Nearly everybody hates him. Every month or so he gathers all the personnel together for a meeting. He stands there talking. Holding his poo in. Contracting his ring piece just in time. Stopping it before he soils his under ware. He tells us all what we should not do. Which is usually the things he did, when he was a worker (that`s a laugh). Poacher turned gamekeeper, he was a lazy argumentative sod.
I work for a private contractor whose name I shall not mention. This is the north west of England, in and around Manchester. Wet and windy.

Well just trying it out. Another day of arse holes (other people) that make honest decent people`s lives hell. Hope this blogging works as I could have some fun here......