The Curate's Egg III

Egg of the Day: Political

So, May has been a little monochrome in terms of posting, so I figured that a return to form was called for. So, back to those things that chuff me right off ...

General Election: It is always good to see the mechanism of democracy working hard and we now watch fearfully on the events of the next day or so. However, it isn't this that is giving me the rub, it is the effects of said mechanism. I have done a few miles in the Pocket Rocket this last week and there is a factor in the election that needs addressing - the Tory fly-posting of our beautiful countryside. Every sodding field between Aylesbury and anywhere else is peppered with the super-sized, morbidly obese, smacks of 'look how much land we own' and 'what we don't own we can pay off', multi-colour Conservative bill-boards. "Vote for Change" they say - I will vote for my beautiful countryside to be cleared of all this Tory litter. They all seem to be bigger than those from the last election - get orf moi larnd, you parsh townies. Moi lettle larms 'ave banged therrr hehdds on yoh-wer beg ole soins. Meh ...

Moto Wi-Fi: It is 'free, every time you visit' - yeah, what else would it be, free every other time you visit?

Drivers who use mobile phones when driving (at speed in particular) - I confess here and now that, when it was legal, I babbled like a brook on my brain-frazzler all the while I was fracturing other traffic laws, specifically those tailored to moderate speed. But like a reformed smoker, I have become an angry bigot in regard to those who talk on their phones when driving. As I tore past people on the M25 today, I passed loads of them who were yapping on their Nokias. It isn't just themselves that they will kill, it is my kids in the back of my family car that will pay the ultimate price. Bastards (not my kids, the phone-ists). If you are that important that you need to sign into the office while you are driving, then you are important enough to deserve a chauffeur - get a chauffeur, don't kill my babies, my beautiful babies.

Theatrical luvvies: Don't even start me off on that one

I ask you ....