This 'nanny state' is fucking pathetic. Cunts in charge of shops now give "guidance" to checkout staff which leads to lunacy at the tills. Oh, I accept that there needs to be some sort of check on underage purchasing of some items, but come on - we've taken the cuntin' exercise to extremes now. Also, we have given malicious and/or over-zealous twats on the checkout the power to display cuntishness!
I read in today's paper that Arlene Phillips was asked for ID by Morrisons a couple of years ago; she's 68 years old! I can well believe this, as I recall Morrisons being the offending retailer when a 72-year-old was challenged when buying whisky.
Sainsbury's is certainly no better, judging by the story yesterday, reported by the Daily Mail (online). A 25-year-old woman was asked for ID when she tried to buy a pack of six teaspoons. Apparently the twat on the tills used zero common sense. The story explained the view (as if!) that the spoons could have been for use in the preparation of heroin. Fucking criminal - not the spoon-buyer, the fucking supermarket. Apologies always come far too late, and after the would-be purchaser has been declined service. The mad thing about this online story was the comments posted underneath. Someone in Scotland was asked for ID in Tescunt when buying a wooden cutlery tray!
"Think 25" is the slogan for this flawed fucking policy. The '25' refers to the IQ of the person in charge if ID requests, in most cases. I have previously ranted about my son being declined when trying to buy a cigarette rolling machine when he was 19, because he didn't have ID with him by cunts at the corner shop.
Do we know have to make weird connections to establish whether any purchase is allowed? Could the fifteen-year-old who wants to buy a bottle of Evian and some Homepride Flour secretly be plotting to mix them, make glue and sniff? Should toothbrush sales be restricted because a bored teenager might scrape the handle on the pavement while waiting outside the local off licence, and in effect whittle it to a point, then march in and threaten to stab the eighteen-year-old ex-school mate who is serving at the tills on minimum wage? Should a pair of Marigolds be available to a fifteen-year-old, because they might be 'converted' into a condom, and by selling the gloves, the shop would be promoting underage sex!
If any cunt on a checkout messes with me, I will abandon all shopping - after taking photos for publication online, through social network sites and of course this blog. We know that those who even help pack a bottle of gin need to be of a certain age, because of a cunt at Morrisons who would not let the granddaughter (aged 21) pack Grandma's gin !!! Apparently it was more than the checkout operator's job was worth to leave herself exposed to a fine for endorsing underage drinking. Fucking TWAT!
In the local area, one now has to be 25 to buy alcohol without being asked for ID - unless of course you use Olay or some other expensive shit, and look young for your age. So, a woman could be 30, look 24 as far as the spotty cunt on the checkout is concerned, and be asked for ID. If she hasn't got it, then the thirty-year-old will have to go without a glass of wine.
The same approach could be adopted for someone wanting 10 Silk Cuntin' Cut. In you throw a crust of bread to a pigeon in Redcar, you'll probably be fined £80 because that is classed as littering. The fact that the bird will eat it is neither here nor there. If I am stopped, I will be tempted to shit on the path and get my £80 worth. Of course, if I am a cunt who throws from a car window a McDonald's carton, I'll not be chased. Easy pickings then for arseholes who watch shoppers, looking for things being dropped. What's madder than anything else is that an old dear who throws a spare chip to a seagull will be fined £80, yet the pre-meditated actions of a shoplifter who is caught with a trouser-load of cheese and razor blades will be 'penalised' also with a fine of £80. ???
If a twenty-four-year-old buys a DVD that's a 'Certificate 15', will he/she be challenged? I reckon shops need to train staff properly, and not belatedly apologise for some dimwit who loved to be controversial with a shopper the day before. If I were still 18-25, I'd be so pissed off to have to prove myself to every fucker when I want a fag, a drink, go to a film, club, or some other age-restricted venue.
All this has given me a headache. I am over 25, but still I must make sure I do not buy more than 32 paracetamol in one transaction, or I'd be most definitely on a suicide mission. So, "Suicide Watch" is the sister slogan to "Think 25".
...
Tuesday, 31 January 2012
Monday, 30 January 2012
30.1.12 Bishop Pricks in Bishoprics
Bishoprics in the Church of England seem to be in many cases very well named, considering the fact that it is often pricks who take the role of Bishop. As with any organisation, there's a certain level of infighting, ambition and egotism in the church. None of this would be of too much concern to the masses (forgive the pun) who these days don't give a fuck about attending church. Rowan Williams (the loony left's biggest ally) leads the church with a weird but certainly not wonderful 'flair' that marks (pun intended) him out as a Marxist. He dabbles in politics and pisses people off - excellent credentials, you might think, for one in charge of the Anglican Church! Telling him and his bishops to piss off would be a whole lot easier if there was not an atrocious anomaly - there are bishops in the House of Lords, and these twats vote on matters with a 'slant' that means they support their leader's gauche views.
There is no place for pricks in politics, but we do unfortunately have very many in both houses. However, those that do get involved in running the country are mostly elected, and in other cases have a 'rounded view' of the world. Unfortunately the same cannot be said of bishops. I have no idea what the collective noun is for a 'group' of bishops - a gaggle, a troupe, or perhaps an abuse ??? Whatever it is (and I really favour the last option) this abuse of bishops in the Lords should be ousted; I think you can now get a spray called that. They have no place in blocking government legislation.
...
There is no place for pricks in politics, but we do unfortunately have very many in both houses. However, those that do get involved in running the country are mostly elected, and in other cases have a 'rounded view' of the world. Unfortunately the same cannot be said of bishops. I have no idea what the collective noun is for a 'group' of bishops - a gaggle, a troupe, or perhaps an abuse ??? Whatever it is (and I really favour the last option) this abuse of bishops in the Lords should be ousted; I think you can now get a spray called that. They have no place in blocking government legislation.
...
Sunday, 29 January 2012
29.1.12 Dancing On Ice - Wk4
So, we've had another instalment of Pissing About On Ice. There are a few contestants who are actually skating and dancing, but most are pissing about. This week's pathetic "Duel" idea was a complete waste of fucking time, and totally pointless. The two worst skaters were likely to be Corey (obviously) and Charlene. What happened? Despite all the 'Duel' crap, they were left to wind up the show. I am not even watching, as Corey is so dire that it's a formality he'll go.
Gubba was only 'reasonable', this week, with the following (amongst others):
Pressure Plank Lift
Reclining Showgirl Lift
Isle of Man Lift
The Angel of the North
Flying Teapot
Thread the Needle Lift
Attitude Lift
Inane comments of the week were everywhere, but I did pick out two that I had to log:
"On the night it's going to come down to who gives the best performance" - Jayne Torvill. Thanks for that, luv, because it's made the whole thing so much clearer now.
"If you want to save [insert name here] and [insert name here], they will need your votes" - Christine Bleakness. Amazing insight you have there, Blokey!
I suppose we ought to expect Charlene to exit next week; let's face it, she's not good to watch. I'd love to say it's in the can. In fact, for a unique "can" analogy, I'd say that if Heidi was a tin of beans, Charlene was a Fray Bentos !!! It does seem that she has adopted a TV format that's not 4:3, nor 16:9 but more of a squat-looking 22:7
Desperation On Ice returns next Sunday
...
Gubba was only 'reasonable', this week, with the following (amongst others):
Pressure Plank Lift
Reclining Showgirl Lift
Isle of Man Lift
The Angel of the North
Flying Teapot
Thread the Needle Lift
Attitude Lift
Inane comments of the week were everywhere, but I did pick out two that I had to log:
"On the night it's going to come down to who gives the best performance" - Jayne Torvill. Thanks for that, luv, because it's made the whole thing so much clearer now.
"If you want to save [insert name here] and [insert name here], they will need your votes" - Christine Bleakness. Amazing insight you have there, Blokey!
I suppose we ought to expect Charlene to exit next week; let's face it, she's not good to watch. I'd love to say it's in the can. In fact, for a unique "can" analogy, I'd say that if Heidi was a tin of beans, Charlene was a Fray Bentos !!! It does seem that she has adopted a TV format that's not 4:3, nor 16:9 but more of a squat-looking 22:7
Desperation On Ice returns next Sunday
...
Saturday, 28 January 2012
28.1.12 Take Me Out (& Shoot Me)
Why oh why oh why has ITV decided that the clown known as Paddy McGuinness is worthy of using up even more of our lives. I now have to abstain from ITV for an hour-and-a-quarter while 'Take Me Out' is on. How the cuntin' fuck did this shit get endorsed for a pissing slot that's bigger than the cunts participating in this bollocks? ITV - you have lost the fucking plot, big time.
As for Jonathan Ross interviewing The Muppets, takes one to know one. Waste of space shit!
...
As for Jonathan Ross interviewing The Muppets, takes one to know one. Waste of space shit!
...
28.1.12 Fucking Sofas
As If the World Depended on a Couch
What we need for Christmas is a corner sofa, white
And leather would be good for keeping clean
I know we need a sofa as I’m brainwashed every night
Bombarded by the adverts on my screen.
I sit and watch the telly but I cannot quite relax
Unless I stick to watching BBC
Commercial breaks are full of people spelling out the facts
A four-year deal, completely interest-free.
Celebrities employed to tell me how amazed they are
Invade my space with rather stupid grins
They sit around and pose in ways so overly bizarre
And tell me when the season’s sale begins.
They tell the viewers (yet again) to come on down and buy
Before the brilliant offers disappear
Our lives depend on sofas is the message they imply
Though payment won’t be needed for a year.
Of course, there isn’t any point in rushing to the store
With ‘Sales’ extended every single time
So ‘Ends On Sunday’ means of course another week or more
Before the prices might begin to climb.
And even then, another range is worthy of a tout
Designer sofas with reclining seats
And so we are reminded what the world is all about
Four years to pay for bloody three-piece suites.
With Christmas gone there’s no relief from sofas in your face
The January silly season kills
For every slot available in advertising space
Is one more slot that sofa-madness fills.
The double discount mania invades and batters lives
Convincing us of needs we haven’t got
And if we make it through to Spring, the Easter Sale arrives
To drive us mad until we lose the plot .
There’s much to do in Summer time, but ‘sofa makers’ pray
For cloud and rain to keep us all inside
So as we watch the telly we can dream our lives away
On comfort that a sofa would provide.
For those of us who last the Summer, those who still resist
The Autumn brings another strong campaign
Another round of offers and of deals that can’t be missed
To drive the public even more insane.
And so it’s nearly Christmas as my palms begin to bleed
The adverts start again with no remorse
If ordered now, delivery in time is guaranteed
I look at what celebrities endorse.
A load of crappy furniture, just dodgy wooden frames
All covered with material and foam
A pile of tacky merchandise to which they lend their names
Yet much of it does not deserve a home.
Please save me from insanity, from Courts and SCS
From World of Leather, please, I need a break
And worst of all I crave escape from fucking DFS
And all the false reductions that they make!
Epilogue
I never turn my telly on, I sit and read instead
I thought that was enough, well wouldn’t you?
But still they found me, through the post, the invitation read:
‘There’s cheese and wine in-store, please come and view’.
...
©TMWSC
28.1.12 Buscopan and Toothpaste
What the fuck did we ever do before the arrival of Buscopan ??? We must have been suffering enormously for decades, and in the background, scientists and pharmacists have worked tirelessly to put us out of our misery and the pain caused by stomach cramps. This must be so, as there's now a fucking fanfare and hundreds of adverts for Buscopan Cramps cramping our style and relaxation time in front of the TV. How did we ever get by without it? Easily.
Meanwhile, in Morrisons, the price of value pasta twists remains at 40p. There's no offer for buying two anymore. Asda's version is at 30p. However, a more serious issue has arisen in the last week, surrounding toothpaste. 'Emergency Toothpaste' as I like to think of it, is the cheapest 'saver' version, and proves useful (and almost disposable) for overnight stays, and as a backup. The attractively low price means one can have a tube for emergencies for little outlay. The going rate was 17p - 20p depending on the supermarket - until a week ago. Yes, there's been a development at Morrisons whereby the 17p no longer applies, and the new rate is 30p! That's an instant 76% increase because the cunts felt like it! Disgusting approach, Morrisons.
Over at Asda, things are worse. This week, there was NONE on sale. That's right, the 17p green and white tube of paste was nowhere to be seen. Removed from the shelves, no doubt to encourage purchase of brand name versions. I had Macleans already, bought at Morrisons instead of the madly priced basic stuff at 30p, and I was simply checking the Asda policy. I suspect something may be going on, just as happened a few years ago with washing up liquid. **
** You may recall that the cheapest WUL was around 13p for one litre, in the classic shape plastic tubular container. The squirty bottle contained a runny liquid that allowed liberal dispensing. Then about three years ago, all the supermarkets stopped selling it. It was clearly a conspiracy. I suspect we will see toothpaste go the same way; I will keep you updated.
Ten blades for my Fusion razor were available at Asda, on offer at the special price of £25.00! That's right, twenty-cuntin-five-quid to shave! The world is fucking mad; it'll be five quid for a dozen rolls of paper next, to wipe my arse. Oh, it already is! Shit!
Finally, getting out of Asda was not straightforward. I joined a queue at the checkouts; a woman was just about to pay, and one woman behind her had placed items on the belt, leaving a two-foot space for me to make a start with my own shopping. Nothing moved for fuckin' ages. Now, I appreciate that twats who run supermarkets have decided it is a good tactic for checkout staff to chat with customers, show an interest in stuff, and generally be all pally-pally. However, some twats take things a bit far. I waited while the old woman who should have been living in a shoe but instead had a part-time job at Asda, conversed with the woman who was paying, and continued to talk to her even after she had paid. I was just getting to the point of threatening to abandon what turned out to be £140 worth of shopping when the shopper escaped the verbal lasso of the checkout biddie. The next line, directed at the woman in fornt of me, was amazing:
"Sorry about the long wait"
Stupid cow! It was all of your own making, you deceitful fuck! When my turn came, she asked me if I was all right packing (I was tempted to ask if she was all right breathing) and then asked me if I wanted any bags. I said "Yes" rather than "What the fucking hell do you think, you doughnut". Then, she was relieved by a replacement operator (not as relieved as I was!) because it was 'break time'. The newcomer was a female 'Jeeves' as in Jeeves & Wooster, and condescendingly but 'nicely' made twittering comments, and as I made my escape after paying, she stopped just short of bowing (there being no room to curtsey behind a till).
Any regular readers of my blog will know I am avoiding Sainsbury's after the 'gloves' incident, and Tescunt (Tesco if you really do prefer) is just no good anymore.
...
Meanwhile, in Morrisons, the price of value pasta twists remains at 40p. There's no offer for buying two anymore. Asda's version is at 30p. However, a more serious issue has arisen in the last week, surrounding toothpaste. 'Emergency Toothpaste' as I like to think of it, is the cheapest 'saver' version, and proves useful (and almost disposable) for overnight stays, and as a backup. The attractively low price means one can have a tube for emergencies for little outlay. The going rate was 17p - 20p depending on the supermarket - until a week ago. Yes, there's been a development at Morrisons whereby the 17p no longer applies, and the new rate is 30p! That's an instant 76% increase because the cunts felt like it! Disgusting approach, Morrisons.
Over at Asda, things are worse. This week, there was NONE on sale. That's right, the 17p green and white tube of paste was nowhere to be seen. Removed from the shelves, no doubt to encourage purchase of brand name versions. I had Macleans already, bought at Morrisons instead of the madly priced basic stuff at 30p, and I was simply checking the Asda policy. I suspect something may be going on, just as happened a few years ago with washing up liquid. **
** You may recall that the cheapest WUL was around 13p for one litre, in the classic shape plastic tubular container. The squirty bottle contained a runny liquid that allowed liberal dispensing. Then about three years ago, all the supermarkets stopped selling it. It was clearly a conspiracy. I suspect we will see toothpaste go the same way; I will keep you updated.
Ten blades for my Fusion razor were available at Asda, on offer at the special price of £25.00! That's right, twenty-cuntin-five-quid to shave! The world is fucking mad; it'll be five quid for a dozen rolls of paper next, to wipe my arse. Oh, it already is! Shit!
Finally, getting out of Asda was not straightforward. I joined a queue at the checkouts; a woman was just about to pay, and one woman behind her had placed items on the belt, leaving a two-foot space for me to make a start with my own shopping. Nothing moved for fuckin' ages. Now, I appreciate that twats who run supermarkets have decided it is a good tactic for checkout staff to chat with customers, show an interest in stuff, and generally be all pally-pally. However, some twats take things a bit far. I waited while the old woman who should have been living in a shoe but instead had a part-time job at Asda, conversed with the woman who was paying, and continued to talk to her even after she had paid. I was just getting to the point of threatening to abandon what turned out to be £140 worth of shopping when the shopper escaped the verbal lasso of the checkout biddie. The next line, directed at the woman in fornt of me, was amazing:
"Sorry about the long wait"
Stupid cow! It was all of your own making, you deceitful fuck! When my turn came, she asked me if I was all right packing (I was tempted to ask if she was all right breathing) and then asked me if I wanted any bags. I said "Yes" rather than "What the fucking hell do you think, you doughnut". Then, she was relieved by a replacement operator (not as relieved as I was!) because it was 'break time'. The newcomer was a female 'Jeeves' as in Jeeves & Wooster, and condescendingly but 'nicely' made twittering comments, and as I made my escape after paying, she stopped just short of bowing (there being no room to curtsey behind a till).
Any regular readers of my blog will know I am avoiding Sainsbury's after the 'gloves' incident, and Tescunt (Tesco if you really do prefer) is just no good anymore.
...
Friday, 27 January 2012
27.1.12 Fifteen Kids and Counting
I saw this programme the other day, as well as the one the week before. The dynamics and likeability of families with numerous kids are widely variable. This week we had Mrs Lewis, a woman with a slightly warped view of her offspring whose apparent purpose in life is to satisfy a mother's wish to win 'beauty' competitions. These tragically naf pageants and low-level 'competitions' bring out everything that's wrong in girls. Encouraging them is hardly sensible, and these endeavours always seem to highlight the not-so-attractive in the participants, rather than the attractive elements. Get a life, woman, and leave the kids alone. The one male seems not to have been nudged into competition, unlike the twelve females.
The other family this week was a weird collection, with various kids from different relationships and families all under one roof. The family name was 'Bland' but life was anything but! Anyone trying to live in such an atmosphere would struggle, so these kids are on an uphill journey. It was the incessany bickering, fighting, shouting and squabbling that made me feel claustrophobic just watching.
More interesting though was the previous weeks episode. The first family featured (the Radfords from Morcambe) was marvellous. Fourteen kids, and one on the way! The parents were wonderful, the kids were totally decent and all worked together. It was actually amazingly uplifting and everyone worked so hard as a team. Fair play. However, down in Kent, the other family, the Sullivans, was skewed. Sorry, luv, but you cannot 'home school' kids ranging from age four to age thirteen round the same table in the kitchen, and expect a decent standard of education to be gained. Nine kids, with twins just being born, is hardly sensible if you're going to deny them the chance to mix with others of their ages. Denying access to TV, school, and insisting on reading the bible is not something I am applauding you for! Spouting shit about 'what God wants' and making yourself out to be some sort of saint for having loads of Catholic kids is not going to get you into heaven. I notice that you're against condoms because 'what will be will be' and there 'shouldn't be intervention' - but it's rather two-faced then to accept a caesarian birth because it suits! Divine? No, fucking mad. Talk about cherry picking your ideals.
Having loads of kids can certainly work, and be good for some. However, whether the families themselves realise it or not, most are well fucked up. For every wonderful example, as in the Radfords, there are many which raise severe doubts about the sense of large families, and the mental state of the parents.
...
The other family this week was a weird collection, with various kids from different relationships and families all under one roof. The family name was 'Bland' but life was anything but! Anyone trying to live in such an atmosphere would struggle, so these kids are on an uphill journey. It was the incessany bickering, fighting, shouting and squabbling that made me feel claustrophobic just watching.
More interesting though was the previous weeks episode. The first family featured (the Radfords from Morcambe) was marvellous. Fourteen kids, and one on the way! The parents were wonderful, the kids were totally decent and all worked together. It was actually amazingly uplifting and everyone worked so hard as a team. Fair play. However, down in Kent, the other family, the Sullivans, was skewed. Sorry, luv, but you cannot 'home school' kids ranging from age four to age thirteen round the same table in the kitchen, and expect a decent standard of education to be gained. Nine kids, with twins just being born, is hardly sensible if you're going to deny them the chance to mix with others of their ages. Denying access to TV, school, and insisting on reading the bible is not something I am applauding you for! Spouting shit about 'what God wants' and making yourself out to be some sort of saint for having loads of Catholic kids is not going to get you into heaven. I notice that you're against condoms because 'what will be will be' and there 'shouldn't be intervention' - but it's rather two-faced then to accept a caesarian birth because it suits! Divine? No, fucking mad. Talk about cherry picking your ideals.
Having loads of kids can certainly work, and be good for some. However, whether the families themselves realise it or not, most are well fucked up. For every wonderful example, as in the Radfords, there are many which raise severe doubts about the sense of large families, and the mental state of the parents.
...
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