Frankly I’d prefer if people stopped the nonsense for the 6 weeks around 5 November. Waste your money on 5 November if you must and Diwali if that’s your religious belief, otherwise enough already!
Christmas Day, New Year’s Eve , fine
Do you really think the people in urban areas setting off fireworks every night for what seems like 6 weeks purely do it for the pleasure of it and not to some degree to annoy? Call me cynical if you will. And in that way they are a waste moneyIf something brings you pleasure is it wasting money? Not keen on the things myself but not wanting to deny others.
Do you really think the people in urban areas setting off fireworks every night for what seems like 6 weeks purely do it for the pleasure of it and not to some degree to annoy? Call me cynical if you will. And in that way they are a waste money
Then they’re just nobbersMaybe they get pleasure from annoying people with the fireworks, in general I agree with you.
You forgot cyclists who don't wave.You missed a few
"Bus drivers who don’t wait for people to sit down before pulling away from the bus stop;
Taxi drivers who use their horns instead of knocking on the door;
People who moan at the council about the streets being full of litter, not stopping to think that it is people who drop litter, not the council;
A room full of drama teachers listening to Björk;
Grown men with replica shirts worn over their jumpers, who stand up and stretch out their arms when the opposing team fail to hit the target;
An assortment of scriptwriters, novelists and playwrights who own Agas but don’t know how to use them;
A musical equipment reviewer responsible for an article titled “Microphone of the Month”;
A woman who described herself as “A little bit Bridget, a little bit Ally, a little bit Sex And The City” and chose to call her baby boy Fred as a childishly rebellious attempt at a clever reaction to those who might have expected her to call him Julian or Rupert. Bit of advice: call him Rupert, it fits, and besides it’s a good name. Don’t be calling him Fred or Archie, with all its cheeky but lovable working class scamp connotations, unless you really do have plans for him to spend his life in William Hill’s waiting for them to weigh in at Newton Abbot.
Also being held is a whole wall full of teenagers spitting needlessly;
An amateur thug in camouflage trousers whose Japanese fighting dog had run amok on a Swindon council estate;
A man from the record company who said that George Michael continues to challenge social taboos through his music;
Lisa Riley;
Continuity announcers introducing comedy shows;
A pub band who get uppity when everyone goes to the bar during a song they’ve written themselves;
A group of football fans referred to as Commodores, as in once, twice, three times a season, who feed sugar lumps to police horses at Cup Finals;
An artist who said his next album would be more “song-based”;
A man who informs people that he gets up at six am every morning and seemed to want a medal;
People who say they speak as they find and are somehow proud of it;
Journalists who try to spell an interviewee’s laugh;
An organisation who declared an awareness week for awareness weeks;
And a council worker who dropped litter."
You missed a few
"Bus drivers who don’t wait for people to sit down before pulling away from the bus stop;
Taxi drivers who use their horns instead of knocking on the door;
People who moan at the council about the streets being full of litter, not stopping to think that it is people who drop litter, not the council;
A room full of drama teachers listening to Björk;
Grown men with replica shirts worn over their jumpers, who stand up and stretch out their arms when the opposing team fail to hit the target;
An assortment of scriptwriters, novelists and playwrights who own Agas but don’t know how to use them;
A musical equipment reviewer responsible for an article titled “Microphone of the Month”;
A woman who described herself as “A little bit Bridget, a little bit Ally, a little bit Sex And The City” and chose to call her baby boy Fred as a childishly rebellious attempt at a clever reaction to those who might have expected her to call him Julian or Rupert. Bit of advice: call him Rupert, it fits, and besides it’s a good name. Don’t be calling him Fred or Archie, with all its cheeky but lovable working class scamp connotations, unless you really do have plans for him to spend his life in William Hill’s waiting for them to weigh in at Newton Abbot.
Also being held is a whole wall full of teenagers spitting needlessly;
An amateur thug in camouflage trousers whose Japanese fighting dog had run amok on a Swindon council estate;
A man from the record company who said that George Michael continues to challenge social taboos through his music;
Lisa Riley;
Continuity announcers introducing comedy shows;
A pub band who get uppity when everyone goes to the bar during a song they’ve written themselves;
A group of football fans referred to as Commodores, as in once, twice, three times a season, who feed sugar lumps to police horses at Cup Finals;
An artist who said his next album would be more “song-based”;
A man who informs people that he gets up at six am every morning and seemed to want a medal;
People who say they speak as they find and are somehow proud of it;
Journalists who try to spell an interviewee’s laugh;
An organisation who declared an awareness week for awareness weeks;
And a council worker who dropped litter."
These non moany types are annoyingSeems to me that most folk aren't happy unless they are moaning.
Seems to me that most folk aren't happy unless they are moaning.