When I planned to blog today, I had every intention of this entry being rant free and almost xenophobic free. Ah well the best laid plans of mice and men and all that.
The first rant is seriously unPC, so if you have a liking for frogs’ legs, whiffy cheese and are highly skilled at running away screaming wah blub I want my mama! Then I wouldn’t read any further.
Right then, you have been warned. Apparently the folk across the channel have decided that the problems in Calais are the responsibility of the British people. Their view point is that because the immigrants are trying to get to England, England should deal with them. It seems French are simply trying to pass the buck, nothing new there then. The buck was passed in 1914-18, again in 1939-45. In fact whenever there’s been a conflict of any sort the French have always been on the rear line, the yellow lines down their backs clearly displayed. In fact, if you check the history books, the only time the French have been able to legitimately claim a victory was the French revolution (1789–99) the reason for the victory? They were fighting the french. Of course the french have grown a pair over the last few years, their dock workers go on strike for almost any reason they can find. In fact if they were told that some bloke had got a splinter opening a box of matches they’d be all out. The last strike was amusing. There was some silly bugger in a rowing boat paddling around in circles in the harbor; this prevented the ferries getting in and out of the port. Now hang on just a mo, rowing boat v ferry? I know where I’d put my money. Ginormous bloody ferry, tiny little wooden boat. The choice is simple, get out my way or you’re swimming home! Sorry mate but Calais is not Sovereign soil, well not since 1358 anyway, so the problem lies with the country of origin. It’s a bit like your next door neighbour’s dog running riot in your other neighbour’s garden and you’re expected to sort it out. That really wouldn’t happen. So instead of plonking men in little boats and causing disruption because your mops aren’t big enough, sort out the issues with the poor saps living in poverty, hoping that they can get a better life on the other side of the channel, and give them some sort of decent environment. Our problem indeed!
Part two is not so much a rant, more a chance for me to express my regret over a decision that has been made by someone I care deeply for. Yesterday I got a text from an ex suggesting that we meet up for a coffee after I finished work. To be honest something wasn’t sitting right. We haven’t spoken properly for about six years, so for her to, out of the blue, say she wants to meet up and have pally type chats. In all honesty it wasn’t as bad as I’d been expecting. The reason for the get together was to say that she was not happy with the thought of her son, who I raised for over nine years, being best man at my wedding. it was pointed out that he’d said that he wasn’t keen on the idea. She was also unhappy with the thought of him coming with me for an evening out to celebrate the end of my days as a bachelor. However, whilst sat drinking coffee, she was talking to a friend about whether or not he’ll be able to get into a bar on Saturday night, double standards me thinks! So I have some serious thinking to do. To be honest the primary thought in my head is, do I need a best man? To be honest I think that no matter what choice I make, I’ll put someone’s nose out of joint. So I wonder if it’s best not to. So that’s about it, apart from a particularly crappy day at work. Still maybe I’m another entry closer to a rant free blog, although I somehow doubt it.
Peace and long life!