D4D

I said "fuck off, bollocks, you're a cunt"

Archive for the category “MOTB”

Celebrity Sharktank

Over on Twitter today, I was having a conversation with a couple of friends, and an idea came to.  It would never be made – but we can dream…

The idea, as the title of this post suggests, would be Celebrity Sharktank. (Or Celebrities Swimming with Sharks – either way)

The premise – and this is the good bit – is to take ten ‘celebrities’, and let them go swimming with a whole swarm of sharks. Great Whites, Makos, Hammerheads, all the good ones.  Throw in a bit of chum (bloody meat/fish, if you didn’t know) and you’ve got a TV programme to be proud of.

The ‘Winner’ of the programme would be the last one alive. Of course, if the recovery crew were really slow at getting to the ‘Winner’, would anyone care?

In my mind, the contestants for the first episode would be :

  • The Kardashian sisters
  • Jedward
  • Simon Cowell
  • the cast of TOWIE (The Only Way Is Essex) and
  • the cast of Jersey Shore

The first episode would be called “Feeding Frenzy” in honour of there being rather more victims (sorry, contestants) than usual.  I suspect Cowell would “Win”, but only because there’s a limit to the shit that even a shark can eat.

I suppose the only downside of this would be the potential for complaints about cruelty to animals…

Tactical Driving

Over the last few days I’ve been taking part in a fun new game I’ll call “The Tactical Driving Game”.  It’s also called “the 505 game”, because it’s currently taking place on the A505.

Basically, find a route with several speed cameras on it. The A505 between Baldock and Royston is good for it, and I’d imagine that the A1 around Elkesley is another gem.

While driving at normal speed, end up with some titbag trying to intimidate you into shifting and letting them past.

Pull in when you get a chance – but particularly at certain spots along the road.

Titbag then goes blasting past, attempting to intimidate/impress with their speed/acceleration/car.

And *flash*, off goes the speed camera.

It’s a joy, I tell you. A joy.

Train Seats

There are some occasions where being a bastard really amuses me – and one of those occasions is when I can upset selfish tosspots on the train.

Yesterday morning was a prime example – the train was busy, with no free pairs of seats. Not that I need a pair of seats particularly, but if there’s a free pair, you sit in one of them rather than cramming in next to people. If there isn’t, hey ho, you just have to sit next to someone. No big deal one way or the other, really- or at least, that’s my attitude.

However, there were a couple of tables where two people were trying to fill up the entire four seat with their stuff, and that always annoys me. If you’re going to do that, pay for all four tickets. Or pay to sit in first class – there’s no other sod in there most of the time, so just go for it. But just trying to block up the seats with a bag, or a jacket, that’s always going to be a target for me, I’m afraid.

So that’s where I sat. I was polite, I didn’t intrude into their conversations, I just sat and got on with stuff on the laptop. But man did it annoy them to have their nice plan to secure some space ruined. As the man said, “My work here is done”.

Mood Change

While MOTB may now be officially over, I notice that still there is nothing that changes my mood from OK (if “Oh God it’s early”) to Growl quicker than some stupid little smeghead cunt cycling up behind me on the path and ringing their bell in order to make me get out of the way.

In fact, it’s like flipping a switch. One little *ting* from that bell and Bastard returns, slowing down, making sure that the shit-for-brains arsewipe fucker behind me can’t get past.

In the end I didn’t quite slow down enough for them to fall off their bike, but they had to go off the path and onto the road in order to get past. And didn’t quite dare yell anything at me, as they’d been in the wrong anyway. (not that that appears to matter to Cambridge cyclists most of the time)

Really quite satisfying.

Trying to Die

This morning, due to a work-related fuck-up of epic proportions (which is too depressing and dull to bother going into) I had to drive in to work, in order to get here for 7.30. And for the first time, I really thought I was going to see some idiot die on the roads.

No, not me. And no-one because of me.

I was driving along the single-carriageway section of the A11 around Elveden, which was pretty foggy. On a ‘clear’ section of road – bearing in mind the visibility of maybe a hundred feet at best, although I’d probably reckon on maybe half that – I saw in the mirror the idiot in a Subaru coming belting past the three cars behind me.

Looking forwards, I could see the headlights of a truck coming the other way…

Dickhead did manage to survive – just – because in a distinctly anti-MOTB moment, I slowed down, so he could cut in ahead of me, without splattering himself across the front of a 40-odd ton artic. Of course, in the next gap, he decided to do the same thing again – no idea of mortality, or just how close he’d actually come to being a statistic.

MOTB #3

Last night on the train…

Announcer on the train’s PA system : Ladies and Gentlemen, this is the train for Norwich, stopping at Brandon, Thetford, Attleborough, Wymondham and Norwich.
Idiot, having listened to the announcement : Excuse me, is this the train for Birmingham?
Yours Truly : Yes, I think so.

Month of the Bastard is turning into real fun…

MOTB #2

Isn’t it fascinating just how difficult it is for cyclists who insist on using footpaths to steer around people?

In fact, you could almost think they try to intimidate pedestrians into getting out of the way, rather than having to steer at all. And it really befuddles them when someone (can’t think who, of course) refuses to move aside for the bell-tinkling fuckers.

However, no matter how pissed off that cyclist may get, it’s really not a good idea to then try swiping said pedestrian with the handlebars as the cyclist goes past. It really buggers up their ability to steer forwards, and tends instead to result in said cyclist wobbling all over the place, then coming off their bike completely.

All together now, “Aawwwwww, shame“. *grin*

Post Navigation