I've noticed a change in the air, and it ain't muck spreading........





The title ain't got nuffin' to do with this blog....Oh crap, as its in the title, I suppose you have to put something in about it....No I don't, my blog, my rules......

Ally picked me up from work the other day, which was nice, but whenever she does there's always an ulterior motive ....... Sometimes, shopping, sometimes, she wants me to go with her, but, mostly to unload groceries from the fooking car, this week she wanted something sinister......... Sorry, similar not sinister, well it's not even similar it's the same, but much worst.........


She wanted me to go to the bank and do a bit of running around and then shopping, but in the worst place imaginable, this part of town used to be nice but, lately its gone to shite, nearly every shop is either, a, cash a cheque / pawn shop or, a, bring a pound buy anything shop and the people are all dressed alike, the women wear, either pink and purple track suits or sallapets (one size fits all.....Do they heck !!!) but, no matter how different they are, it is always, topped off with a fag hanging like a stalactite from grumpy faces, with too much war paint and enough cheap jewelry dangling of ear lobes to destabilize their whole body, their hands, amass of blue, badly written, "I luv kov" and distorted crosses.

The blokes, don't fair much better, pot bellied, saggy arsed dossers, greasy hair and unshaved faces, but, again, a fag stuck in their gob. I've actually seen people here smoking and eating (always a greasy burger washed down with oodles of fizz pop) at the same time, even their off spring have the obligatory cigarette stuck in their pie holes, and, if, they themselves have kids, which most do, I wouldn't be surprised, if they didn't suck on a cancer stick whilst suckling from their mummy's fun bags, now, don't get me wrong, I ain't no snob, but come on, you can wash your bloody clothes now and again, would it kill them to wash their troll like feet and their big banana hands, no of course not...... And, it's not the case that they are poor, I'm from a council estate and growing up, we didn't have a lot of money, the carpets didn't meet the walls until I was 28 I thought that's the way carpets were!!!! But we were always clean, our clothes, mine especially were hand me downs, but we had respect and a bit of pride, even now, many of my kids clothes are from a car boot, but, they look and smell good, well, until they do a whoopsy in their nappies!!!

Anyway, off we went to the land, that time has gave up on, we went to the bank and even these, so called professionals, are grumpy, rude smegmas, with as much customer care as a hangman with a hang over !!! Upon entering the supermarket, we are greeted by hordes of hungry goblins all queuing for their favorite Mc Crap in bun with skinny assed chips (the chips are the only shiny (shiny what the fuck is shinny that my friends is skinny and not fooking shiny, shinny fucking shinny!!!! grrrr!!!) thing in the place!!!) and a liter of sugary goodness (don't people realise they fill 90% of the cup with ice and 5 % with the drink the other 5% is air?)
After fighting our way around the shop, avoiding gaggling grannies who stop suddenly in front of you and talk to Vera about their latest operation, retreating from Roger, the gut retching residential alcoholic, we finally make it to the check out,



where, yes you guessed it, pimply Paula with more metal in her clap trap than a scrap yard sits cross eyed, cheap gold dripping from her body, a face on her, like a pit bull licking the piss of a thistle whilst being stung on the nuts by a wasp, every, item she has to get a price check, then the piss smelling granny, with the hairiest chin counts out her money, then moans about the cost of living these days and how good it was before decimlisation. Paula, sits there thinking about Kev and his hunkyness and, how tonight is going to be the night they finally make a baby, after trying for the whole month they've been together. Eventually, the granny fucks off, leaving us, at the mercy of panting pimply Paula, her mind on tonight activities every sausage, every banana and even the cucumbers a stark reminder of Kevin, three hours later, we emerge from the gloom into a barrage of cigarette smoke, it's like a bloody hobby the whole family can enjoy together, gangs of people huddle together puffing away...............

God welcome to hell...