Saturday 09 June 2012

Generic Complaining Passage About Car Parks

I got to see both sides of my own impatience with car parks today; Firstly (at the Trafford Centre) coping with the fact that all the lines mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. People park across spaces, outside spaces and places where it says ‘do not park’. And all this seems to occur with no punishment from the Trafford Centre. I’ve seen people sneaking on the end before but some of the places people were parking today was insane. It would seem that heavy rain is basically the green light for people to do whatever they want with their cars.

Secondly, that many car parks are just places to park near the place, in this case a Supermarket, for which they offer parking – with no real thought as to how people get from the roads to the car parks, or from the parked cars to the supermarket. The entrance always involves a mini-roundabout which is as lawless as every one of the 15 junctions created by the lattice of parking blocks. No-one lets anyone in or out. I’m no driver but aren’t their rules for this kind of thing on the normal roads? One in one out, or something. So why in ASDA carpark does it become ‘one in and that one is fucking me because I am the only fucking one that fucking counts and I couldn’t give a fuck about anyone else’?

Even More Generic Aren’t People Annoying When You’re Shopping Passage

I’m all for people allowing their kids to express themselves and to be able to be free and all that fucking bullshit. It’s just when a three-year-old is allowed a certain amount of freedom they haven’t necessarily developed the people skills you might expect of an adult – or the spatial awareness. What I’m saying here is, it’s all well and good letting kids run about but when they run head-first into my knee it is me who has to deal with the guilt of kneeing a child in its skull (and, less importantly, a child could be injured).

I went from being annoyed at this amount of liberty being granted to wondering about the human rights of a lad of about seven in Marks and Spencers. His dad seemed to be annoyed at him doing a voice that wasn’t his own. Given all the things errant children do in public surely the amount of scorn one should receive for displaying mild vocal creativity should be limited at (not much above) nil.

I also overheard a woman saying to her friend that “we should check where the socks are to see if they are there” when I was in JJB Sports. Now unless she was looking for socks, in which case then she is looking in exactly the right place (but why would you say it if that was the case? I’m going to look for socks where the socks are stored), I am not sure why she would look where socks are. Unless her semantics is all gone to cock.

ANOTHER whinge about Twitter

You could describe the  content of the Twitter account of the Irish bookmaker Paddy Power has capturing a specific part of a socio-cultural zeitgeist. You could also maybe say that the firm has identified a specific customer type and uses the tone and register of this type in order to appeal to more people like that. I would say it’s a cunt talking utter fucking shit and people who like it are dicks. Fucking dicks.

And yes I know I don’t have to follow them, and I don’t, but I do check the page regularly to see if there any good betting offers on. For Paddy Power is a fucking bookmakers and they put stuff on there about betting in between putting jokes about: John fucking Terry celebrating stuff that he wasn’t involved in winning in the outfit of the people who did (we fucking get it – it was funny THE DAY AFTER the Champions League final and then only mildly);  references to ‘her indoors’ not understanding football – simultaneously maintaining some 1950s gender stereotype and maintaining that, yeah, of course he’s got a wife/girlfriend to demean ‘cos he’s  a ruddy bloke; doing a tweet about City paying £50 million for someone who does anything good in a game – alternatively if someone who is already recognised as good does something bad then they will do a tweet about City cancelling a £50 million bid; endless childish remarks about someone being ugly to the point of it seeming that whoever is in charge of these tweets might be in love with Dirk Kuyt because there could be no rational reason for an adult to tweet 49 pictures of various ugly people with a strapline about it being Dirk Kuyt.

Another Fucking Brilliant Trailer from Quentin Tarantino

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