IMPOTENCE

no, i’m not talking about swigger’s-droop or that most fascinating stage of long-term diabetes that i have to look forward to. i’m talking about the thing that really does get me going and that’s impotent rage.

i was walking towards the pub in a break between downpours. there were puddles. trouty had called my mobile and i was temporarily distracted and didn’t, until it was too late, see the yob on a bicycle headed my way on the pavement. he missed me by about an inch and sploshed me with dirty puddle water. i turned and offered him some kindly avuncular advice, ie. ‘you fu(’scuse me, i think there’s someone at the door)ing knob’. there was a lady coming the other way and when she passed by she said ‘you should have pushed him off’. how right she was.

well, half right really. when these things happen, when little scummers take the piss out of me or evil turds scream at me out of lorries (see my ‘trip to the council offices’ blog) and there is nothing i can do about it i just want to get my big gun out and shoot them to mush, starting at the goolies, and blasting them right in the spotty face when i have enjoyed them screaming for mercy for just long enough.

when i got to the pub i was not in the best of humours. i hate these little bastard kids SO MUCH and i poured by heart out on the matter to john the bosh who i was pleased to see there enjoying some peaceful swiggitude after the travails of his day. bosh is a man after my own heart on this subject (little bastards, i mean) and he told me about something he had seen that had sickened him to his stomach…

he had been in guildford, on the towpath near where a wooden footbridge crosses the canal near the big, brick railway bridge. he saw two little bastards carry their BMXs up onto the bridge and suspected they were up to no good. about 14 or 15, not at school, evil in their hearts - that sort of thing.

then bosh saw the narrowboat coming down the canal.

he said that he tried to attract the attention of the helmsman and i like to think that when he did so he must have looked like the scarecrow out of the wizard of oz, sort of flailing about and falling over with all his straw coming out of him. but his efforts were all in vain.

as the narrowboat passed beneath the bridge the little bastards rose up over the parapet and gobbed copiously upon the boatmen at the stern. the unfortunates were well coated in a mixture of sunny dee, alcopop and cheap fag flavoured gob.

then, the little bastards came down and wheeled along on their BMXs in a gloating fashion. the helmsman proffered avuncular advice along the lines of ‘you little cu(’scuse me, doorbell), to which one of them replied ‘nah, you’re the cu(hang on, phone’s ringing)t because we done yer’ and then they pedalled their bikes off laughing.

you remember the foot and mouth thing when there was all them cows killed and set on fire and bulldozed into pits? when i’m president of englandshire and the same thing happens to all the little scummers then it will be me that rides off on my golden presidential bicycle laughing my head off. until that happy day i will just have to live with my impotent rage.

on a happier note, i have just finished camouflaging a rather nifty container for ‘weyside wander2′. i might just have it in place in time to sorely vex merman when he comes to stay on thursday.

the stat machine is still broken. i think the swig stats explodified it.

good night, dear reader, goodnight.