do we need punctuation many things wind me up people mainly but some of the things that come across my desk make me want scream at the world part of my current work occasionally brings email from the great british public into my gaze on the whole I would say most people have got to grips with the language and the use of punctuation now before you think not another rant about punctuation then youll be wondering what i am talking about whats more if you have reached this far without having to start reading this again then your brain just works in a different way to mine
Have a look at this –
An English professor wrote the words
“A woman without her man is nothing”
on the chalkboard and asked his students to punctuate it correctly.
All of the males in the class wrote:
“A woman, without her man, is nothing.”
All the females in the class wrote:
“A woman: without her, man is nothing.”
ANOTHER THING PEOPLE DO IN SOME EMAILS IS TO WRITE THE WHOLE THING IN CAPITAL LETTERS. HOW FECKING ANNOYING – IT IS LIKE SOMEONE IS SHOUTING INTO MY EYEBALLS.
Who plans roads? What qualifications do they have? Probably a First Class Degree in ‘winding people up’ if the new jumble of excuses for roads I have seen recently are anything to go by.
One catastrophic example of road planning I see all the time is single carriageway roads that split to two lanes as they approach a set of traffic lights. Only to go back into one lane in each direction shortly after the lights. This seems to invite road rage each time the lights turn to red as people jostle for position and try to get past that lorry. One road I know (the A38 heading towards Mansfield off the M1) has exactly this mind-blowing arrangement every half mile or so. I ventured onto this road once only to find mind-numbingly boring crawling traffic interspersed with a few seconds of excitement as people swore at each other or, on a couple of occasions, get out of their vehicles to have a not-so-friendly word with the poor old granny who finds herself sandwiched between a large lorry and a boy racer.
Another demented road planning trick is to start placing traffic lights at junctions along roads that are actually dual carriageways for a couple of miles or longer. From what I have seen this leads to almost everyone under the age of 80 being invited into a race from each set of lights as we all progress down the merry way.
Finally, a bypass was recently built around Mansfield – the new A617 from Rainworth to the afore-mentioned A38. I would like to meet the bright spark who looked at the future traffic needs of the area and decided that this would only be one lane in each direction. What a fecking plonker. This road is already full to the brim. Not only that, the number of traffic lights one encounters is staggering. On top of this, they have decided to build a new business park at the side of it. The business park will have two entrances and in a move that stuns the very breath from your lungs and pounds the senses into submission, they have decided to place traffic lights at both of them. All on a single carriageway bypass.
The fecking bypass will soon need a bypass to bypass it!
I like to laugh. I’m quick to laugh and this has got me into much trouble in the past.
Anyway, one of the biggest laughs I have had in the past couple of years was when I saw the chosen logo for the London 2012 Olympic games.
It is astounding to thing that a bunch of self-important people all sat around a nicely polished and presumably wooden table and agreed (on our behalf) that this would best project the image of Great Britain that we would most like the rest of the world to see.
What the feckety feck were these deluded people thinking? Are they blind? Maybe they are so blind they needed a logo you can almost hear? Maybe they just don’t care?
Then I read this article in the Guardian on-line and I had to laugh some more. Now every time I look at this logo I just see Lisa Simpson kneeling down.
But whilst this may be funny to a point, it is not something that I want the world to be laughing at in 2012. I still have a little pride left in the country I was born in and that my Grandfather fought to protect in the 1939-1945 conflict with our sausage eating European neighbours.
So what can be done about it? Well, nothing it appears. The London 2012 Organising Committee is determined to simply brush aside any objections to the logo whilst the rest of us are just waking up from some kind of stunned coma, induced by the blinding, stomach churning, sherbet colours slammed into your eyeballs when viewing the offending image.
Whilst browsing the internet, I had a quick look to find out what other people think. Interestingly, I came across a Downing street petition that had over 500 signatures. You can see it here but the petition is now closed and you cannot add your name.
Staggeringly, I also came across nearly 50 petitions that had been rejected. You can see the list here. I have applied for another petition. If it is accepted I’ll post the address here.
Everyone I speak to does not want this logo. Surely we have time to change it?
29th October – I am suitably surprised to find that my petition to Downing Street has been accepted. See here – http://petitions.number10.gov.uk/demand-new-logo/
I like the occasional drink and cigarette. I enjoy them but both these things are bad for me.
I do not like running, going to the gym or eating fish. But these things I know are good for me.
Why is the world built this way? All those things I enjoy will probably kill me one day. And all those things that might improve my life and keep me alive a little longer I do not enjoy.
The list goes on.
I enjoy pizza. The odd McDonald’s Big Mac or Burger Whopper with Cheese.
But I do not like parsnips. Or broccoli.
I like beer, whiskey and cigars.
I do not like running, yoga or rock-climbing. (I do like cycling, keeping generally fit, walking in the countryside, swimming in the sea, jet-skiing, skiing, sky-diving amongst other things – I am not a complete couch potato).
But some people must like these mundane foods and exercise. How is it that some people are born with an in-built need to do these things to themselves.
Whilst others, like me, seem to be born with a built in aversion to the downright boring.
Maybe it is upbringing. Maybe it is the school I went to. Or the town I grew up in. Is it my fault that I will probably die younger than someone who went to a better school? In a more prosperous town?
I’m fairly sure that it isn’t my fault.
But I’m fairly sure that I’m going to end up paying for it.
The Turner Prize for art is a tribute to the wasting of time, money and space and an opportunity for the well-off, upper middle classes to have a laugh at the rest of us. And the well-off, middle classes laughing at me really fecks me off.
The artist, along with most of us, knows the crap on display could be done as an after thought by a one-eyed, epileptic monkey on it’s way out of a tornado.
The only reason they get the chance to do this every year is because ‘bemused’ television news presenters get a chance to gawp at the pap on display and act incredulously on ‘our behalf’.
Well DON’T. As soon as the well-paid television news people stop paying attention to this baboon turd, the sooner these people will stop laughing at us. And maybe they can go away and contribute to society in a way that will benefit us all.
I used to have an irrational aversion to anything to do with Rugby. I just saw that it was an elitist game for insufferable rich people from inaccessible public schools. Not something that a working class lad from Mansfield could get involved with.
So, football was the way forward for me and the lads I grew up with. And I’m talking about good old English football (or soccer) here – not the mamby pamby American version that looks like a girls version of our Rugby. I ask you, why do grown men need to pad themselves out with that much protective clothing? But comment about our American cousins is for another post.
In later life I met girls. By this time, I was well past the point of being able to choose what kind of sport I could partake in. My choices were limited to about none. Especially team sports. People used to say to me “There’s no ‘I’ in TEAM”. “Feck off” would be the wittiest riposte I could muster, “There is an ‘I’ in TIM”.
But the girls seemed to be more interested in Rugby than in Football. Now, please don’t think I am a huge football fan – I’m not. It’s been years since I have been to watch a match. And I left that at half time because of the yob behind me was inviting the visiting guests to ‘*&!? OFF & COME ON YOU £$%?!ERS & WHAT A C*?T T&^T AR$E FECK BLEEEUURRGGH’ (amazingly, this was in the FAMILY stand!). On top of that it was freezing cold and raining directly into my face.
But anyway, girls were into Rugby. So this obviously needed further investigation and a possible re-evaluation of my standing regarding the game with the odd shaped ball (how can you play a game with a ball that could go in any direction when it hits the ground/boot/face?).
The first thing I realised was that Rugby had staggeringly complicated rules. As I write, there is uproar because it appears that some rules have been changed but only for certain leagues or countries. Anyway, I asked a girlfriend of mine if she could explain the rules to me. Such as the scoring system perhaps?
No chance. She admitted there and then she only watched rugby to look at the players legs. Ye gods. So I asked another girl. I got the exact same answer. I asked several more and got the same reply.
It appears that women and girls do not watch rugby. They do not follow rugby. They just look at rugby.