When shitness conspires to make things more shit. I was picking up ms pap from the train station the other day. Iād arrived with about 5 minutes before her train was due in, and saw that short stay parking was free for 20 minutes. Happy days.
On arriving at the platform, her train is listed as being 3 minutes late. Disappointing, but still workable. Thirty seconds before the parking expires, the train finally rolls into the station, 12 minutes late. There is no time to get back to the car; I end up bunging Ā£2.60 into the meter because whether through conspiracy or chaos, people make money from crapness.
Having kept to the spirit of the agreement, I still wouldnāt be surprised to receive a parking ticket because I bought my 40 minutes after the original 20 had elapsed.
Timid old fuckers driving at 35mph on a rural road with a 60mph limit. Iām still a confident and quick driver at 65+ yearsā¦timid drivers of any age are more of a danger on the roads.
I was in a pretty nasty car crash on a country road about 4 years ago. Friend was in hospital for several months because of his injuries, and is still having operations on his face/hip to repair stuff all this time on.
As a result, I am totally and utterly terrified of country roads and get no where near 60 on them.
Yeah me too I only go approx 20mph on rural roads but what i do is drive them in reverse gear so if lifeinslowlane is following me + he gets too close i can flip him bird + make wanker signs right to his dumb FACE
When you go around to your old house (that you still pay for) and your estranged wife (who has just about got back on an even keel after you left) finds nudey photos of your new bird on the home computer because when you left you forgot to turn off the homeshare thing on your mobile phone and they uploaded when you went around to pick up the kids the week before.
And the snaps of the weekend abroad with the nudey bird after you told the estranged wife you couldnāt afford to give her extra for family presents.
French ppl. French ppl are tres rude imo. I remember one time i was working part time at a hotel on the front desk, and this French guest come up, moaning on about something or other. I couldnāt tell you what he was moaning about exactly cos i donāt speak word of French & he didnāt speak word of English. Well I say he didnāt speak English, he knew one word, because he kept calling me a ādoucheā.
He prob though he would get away with it cos itās not v.common insult in England, but my mum is American, so I know full well what a douche is, and I donāt have to take that shit. I was like, listen mate, Iām just trying to do a job here. Call me that one more time and you and I, weāre gonna have a problem. But he did, with virtually his next word: āDoucheā. So Iāve vaulted the counter and landed one on him, right on his garlic mouth, dislodging his beret, and string of onions, and whatever else.
My manager tried to defend him, typically. She was like, his shower is broken. I was like, so what! Thatās no excuse! Heād smell like that if he took 4 baths a day, I guarantee it, stinky French cunt RIP.
OK you timid fuckersā¦let me put this right. The āruralā roads to which i refer arenāt the narrow, winding country lanes they are wide āAā roads. I use the term āruralā to differentiate from āurbanā roads.
Iām not daft enough to drive at 60 along said winding country lanes nor do I tailgate. My username refers to my daily routine and the acceptance that my 1958 alternative conveyance is unlikely to get me anywhere fast.
It is very amusing to watch English people in Amsterdam, stoned off their trollies and rigidly sticking to the left of the pavement, getting gradually more irate as they keep bumping into people head-on. Switch to the right and enjoy a wholly more pleasant stroll stoners!
