This next topic is a bit of a controversial one but it's something that is very personal to me, so here it goes: Faith Schools.
Faith schools in Britain are on the rise. Around 7000 public-funded schools (1 in 3) now has a religious affiliation, and our current con-dem government wishes to increase this. Why? Yes I am aware that David Cameron is a stuck-up prick and Nick Clegg is like the majority of men on this planet; a lying, cheating, two-faced, back-stabbing spineless bastard, but more faith schools is the last thing that we need.
Now as some of you may know, I am an atheist, I don't believe in any sort of God, higher power or afterlife. My view is that religion was created through a lack of education and a fear of death, and is nothing but a large inconvenience that causes prejudice and wars.
However, my grandad, my mother's father, was a strict catholic. When I say strict he went to church every Sunday and forced my Mum, my aunts and uncles to go to midnight mass even when there was 2-foot of snow on the ground. My mum isn't as against religion as me, but because it was forced upon her at an early age she didn't want the same for me so chose not to have me baptised (thank god - pardon the pun). But, because of my grandad's wishes, I still had to go to the Roman Catholic primary school that my mum had attended.
Now I've decided against naming and shaming this school, but it is an absolute disgrace. At the time I was way too young to realise that their practices were very wrong and discriminatory, but I now know that when I have children I will never allow them to attend a faith school. And you know why? Because I want them to have a good education and not be exposed to prejudice and unfair treatment from an early age.
Reception class, pre-5, whatever you call it, is meant to be an exciting, educational first experience of school for a child. For me, it is when the bullying started. Not from the students, from the teachers.
I was never naughty or misbehaving as a child, I was just how I am now, cheeky, opinionated and slightly rebellious. I couldn't read until I was 7. Now, I am quite an intelligent and literate person, so clearly this was through no fault of my own. I wasn't Dyslexic either, my teachers just cared more about prayers and Jesus than making sure I was getting the basic educational needs. Yet the blame was put upon me, I recall my Reception class teacher telling me that I was lazy and an embarrassment to the school. I was 5 years old.
And that's not all. There were only a few non-catholics in my school. I remember one day we had an assembly and they segregated us all and told us how lucky we were to be in a Catholic school, and that this might mean that we might be lucky enough for God to forgive our 'sins'. When I think about it now, what the fuck?!
We also used to have to go Church once a fortnight as a collective. Us non-catholics were made to sit on a separate bench, we weren't allowed the bread and wine, we had to make a different signal with our arms to inform the priest that we weren't catholic and we would instead receive a blessing. Again, what the hell?
When I got to about the age of 9, I started to get really frustrated. I was a geek, I actually enjoyed learning things. And it used to annoy me greatly that valuable education time was constantly taken up by the unnecessary need to say prayers ten times a day. So there came a day when we were having to say mid-afternoon prayers and I just said no. I said no, I'm not saying prayers, it's stupid and there's no Jesus and there's no God so stop lying, I'm gonna go sit over there and read a book instead. My mum was called in to speak to my teacher, and my mum as always actually defended me, and just gave them the reply of 'it's a free country', what a legend <3
I've found that as I've gotten older, I have done everything in my might to rebel against that awful school. We used to have handwriting lessons where we were made to trace intricate calligraphy writing with a fountain pen and practise our perfect joined-up writing, because joined-up writing shows that you are a Catholic. Erm what? That is a load of bollocks. I still refuse to join up my handwriting now as a further 'fuck you'.
We also used to get punished for using the lord's name in vain. 'Oh my god, for god's sake, jesus christ'...if we said anything along those lines we were made to skip playtime and write 200 lines of 'I shall not use the Lord's name in vain, Jesus Christ is great'. If I'd known back then what I know now I'd have told them to shove their lines up their arse.
The final point of discrimination came in year 6 when we had to choose which high school we wanted to go to. It was the norm for people from my primary school to attend the local Catholic high school which was about 7 miles away, meaning I would have to get on the school bus there and back. My grandad was again insistant on me going there, but my mum was more keen on the idea of me going to the normal high school in my town. Lucky we chose that option really as we were informed that if I'd wanted to attend the Catholic high school, my mum would have to pay £200 a year for a bus pass, whereas Catholics received a free bus pass. But it was ok, we were told, because if I got baptised within the next two months I too could have a free bus pass. How unfair is that? Even though that was my mum's old high school she too agreed that it was absolutely disgusting.
I am so glad that I stood up to that vile, discriminatory school, I'm just annoyed that my Mum didn't get me out of that shambles of an education establishment before my primary education was complete as I still firmly believe that I could have done a lot better in school and college if I'd received adequate teaching at primary levels.
I came out with the best results in the school in the year 6 SATs, not bad for a girl who couldn't read and was an embarrassment to the school, but if I'd been taught better from the start I could have done even better and been able to gain a free scholarship to a private high school, which other people of my intellect were given from their primary schools. This still angers me. I came out with decent GCSEs and A-Levels but I was never a straight A student, I should have been though.
David Cameron and Nick Clegg shouldn't have bothered raising university fees if they plan on increasing the number of faith schools in Britain, I doubt there will hardly be any adequately educated students to get accepted into university, especially if they're non-catholic.
It's no wonder I think Jesus is a complete and utter wanker, and so is his imaginary dad in the sky.
Thursday 30 December 2010
Monday 27 December 2010
Boredom will kill you. (It actually makes you read Betterware, the catalogue of useless objects, cover to cover)
So as usual I am irritated by something in this little world we call home. Today it is Public Holidays.
As we are all aware, Christmas 2010 is now over and gone (woooo). But why is the world still at a standstill?
You want to know why? Laziness and selfishness is what it is. Bank holidays? Just an excuse to spend another day lazing around the house in your pants.
It is now the early hours of Tuesday the 28th of December. Yes a Tuesday...but apparantly it is a bank holiday. Again. Even though we had one yesterday, along with Boxing Day on Sunday, Christmas Day on Saturday and logically Christmas Eve on Friday. Which means that buses have not been running a normal service and shops have not been open regular hours since Thursday. Whaaaat?! Along with the bad weather I have no idea how is this country is even still functioning.
I am even grumpier than usual at the minute (yes that is possible) because I have a cold. When I say I have a cold, I mean only one of my nostrils is in working order. I've also been unable to sleep at regular sleeping hours because of this slight problem of not being able to breathe.
Due to me being on my deathbed (slight exaggeration maybe?) and unable to retain a normal sleeping pattern, later on today I would quite like to pop to the supermarket at a reasonable hour which suits me such as 6pm to go and stock up on Vicks, Beechams and potatoes. But... the calendar says no. I have to drag myself out of bed at lunch time and go and shop amongst the hustle and bustle of panic-buying pensioners. Eurrrggghhh.
And I always get the 'you'd love bank holidays if you had a job' speech. Actually no I wouldn't. I used to have a job alongside my studies and I had to work every fucking bank holiday. Yes it was double pay but was definately not worth the stress of overcrowded skeleton-service buses, overly angry customers and lack of places open to get a decent lunch.
I am currently on a break from university until the 10th of January and I am already slowly and painfully dying of boredom. Being away from any type of routine, be it a break from uni, a break-up from a relationship, a lack of internet access... they all make me spiral into a downward fall of depression and self-pity.
I like routine, I like plans, I like having things to do. Right now all I wanna do is get back to uni, the prospect of spending one more day in my pyjamas watching Jeremy Kyle and checking the fridge every 5 minutes to see if any nice food has magically appeared makes me wanna cry a little bit. How do people actually sit and do nothing and not get bored?
Though, in theory, I always want what I can't have. As soon as I'm back at uni I will wish for some time off, it is guaranteed. And right now I do have an essay I should be getting on with, but I'm just too busy procastinating.
So people...bank holidays are not fun, if like me, you have nothing productive to do with them and when they come at a time when you have shitloads of time off anyway, they're just an inconvenience.
And now in April we have another one thanks to Prince William and Kate Middleton...you selfish royal pricks.
As we are all aware, Christmas 2010 is now over and gone (woooo). But why is the world still at a standstill?
You want to know why? Laziness and selfishness is what it is. Bank holidays? Just an excuse to spend another day lazing around the house in your pants.
It is now the early hours of Tuesday the 28th of December. Yes a Tuesday...but apparantly it is a bank holiday. Again. Even though we had one yesterday, along with Boxing Day on Sunday, Christmas Day on Saturday and logically Christmas Eve on Friday. Which means that buses have not been running a normal service and shops have not been open regular hours since Thursday. Whaaaat?! Along with the bad weather I have no idea how is this country is even still functioning.
I am even grumpier than usual at the minute (yes that is possible) because I have a cold. When I say I have a cold, I mean only one of my nostrils is in working order. I've also been unable to sleep at regular sleeping hours because of this slight problem of not being able to breathe.
Due to me being on my deathbed (slight exaggeration maybe?) and unable to retain a normal sleeping pattern, later on today I would quite like to pop to the supermarket at a reasonable hour which suits me such as 6pm to go and stock up on Vicks, Beechams and potatoes. But... the calendar says no. I have to drag myself out of bed at lunch time and go and shop amongst the hustle and bustle of panic-buying pensioners. Eurrrggghhh.
And I always get the 'you'd love bank holidays if you had a job' speech. Actually no I wouldn't. I used to have a job alongside my studies and I had to work every fucking bank holiday. Yes it was double pay but was definately not worth the stress of overcrowded skeleton-service buses, overly angry customers and lack of places open to get a decent lunch.
I am currently on a break from university until the 10th of January and I am already slowly and painfully dying of boredom. Being away from any type of routine, be it a break from uni, a break-up from a relationship, a lack of internet access... they all make me spiral into a downward fall of depression and self-pity.
I like routine, I like plans, I like having things to do. Right now all I wanna do is get back to uni, the prospect of spending one more day in my pyjamas watching Jeremy Kyle and checking the fridge every 5 minutes to see if any nice food has magically appeared makes me wanna cry a little bit. How do people actually sit and do nothing and not get bored?
Though, in theory, I always want what I can't have. As soon as I'm back at uni I will wish for some time off, it is guaranteed. And right now I do have an essay I should be getting on with, but I'm just too busy procastinating.
So people...bank holidays are not fun, if like me, you have nothing productive to do with them and when they come at a time when you have shitloads of time off anyway, they're just an inconvenience.
And now in April we have another one thanks to Prince William and Kate Middleton...you selfish royal pricks.
Friday 24 December 2010
If you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it. (Well, changed your facebook status at least)
So...I now get onto the topic which I have the most to say about, which annoys me and amuses me the most, which confuses the hell out of me - Men. So much so I've had to split them into chapters otherwise I could sit here and write for the next decade. Men (Chapter 1) - Commitmentphobes.
I've made this species of male the first of the chapters as it is what I've encountered (yet again) most recently, meaning I'm still pretty pissed off about the whole situation, which i guess makes good entertainment.
I have been unlucky enough to discover that there are men out there who are terrified of commitment, and I in turn, am terrified of those particular men.
Although it is a cliche to say it (but then again cliches are only formed because they are composed of truths), I've never been lucky in 'love'. I've only had one relationship that's lasted longer than a month, and to be honest, I'm not sure I can call it a relationship at all.
It was 3 years ago when it began, something bigger than crush, someone I really cared about. He literally was my world, I gave up everything I had to, my friends, the respect of my family, to be with this one person. Thing was, even though we spent pretty much every single day together since that first day, I was never his girlfriend, not officially anyway.
I loved him, even if he was a complete pain in the arse at times. From the little things, like when we went to the cinema and he offered to buy the pick & mix, but insisted we could only have 3 pear drops each as they're heavy and he wasn't 'made of money', and I accidentally ate one of his pear drops and he shouted at me and refused to speak to me for 3 days. I did the romantic reconciliation of showing up at his door with a huge bag of pear drops but he still sat there and ate 6 chocolate cupcakes in front of me and wouldn't let me have one as 'punishment'. What an arsehole. To the big things like lying, cheating, controlling... But somewhere between the silly arguments, the inside jokes and the hard times, i fell arse over tit in love with him. But when I said I loved him, he never said it back.
It took 8 months for him to finally make me his official girlfriend. I'd wanted it so badly that entire time, but when I finally got it, I ended it 3 days later. It was too late, I was too hurt by the fact that it had took him 8 months to realise what I'd known from the first few days. A month later he got a girlfriend, it took him 4 days to make it facebook official and they're still together now. I don't know if it's because he learnt his lesson from me or if he just knew with her what he'd been unsure of with me, but he's happy and I'm happy for him :)
Though I was devastated to lose him, I knew I'd done the right thing. Don't ever settle for second best, if someone doesn't like you for who you are, then you know what? Fuck them, fuck it. If someone makes you feel like shit, then don't make them feel like royalty, make them feel shitty too. Guilt-trip them until they cry if that is what it takes, but always make sure you get treated how you deserved to be treated.
Unrequited love forms the basis of my life, and you know what? I'd rather get teabagged by Ken Barlow than have to go through the misery of that ever again. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy (then again I actually would, she is a total bitch). Don't fall in love, fall off a bridge. It hurts less.
Though of course things aren't always crap, well they are for me, but some couples give real hope. Two of my friends are the most amazing couple I know, I would give my right arm to have what they have. They're not just a couple, they're best friends. But they don't forget that they're young and they have friends and a life to enjoy too, unlike some young couples who spend more than a year together and turn into oaps, they have the silliest arguments over chewing gum stuck in armpit hair, they bicker at times, but arguing only shows that you care enough to express yourself, and the way they look at each other makes you wanna gush and vomit at the same time :)
They prove that some men can commit, and feelings can be mutual. So why does it never happen to me?! I always get you're gorgeous, you're funny, you're intelligent, you're amazing but... there is always a but. I'm never girlfriend material with the guys I really wanna be with, I'm always the girl before the girlfriend.
I recently started seeing yet another commitmentphobe (though I wasn't aware of this until it was too late) and this time it was more than puzzling.
If I'm quite honest with you, I thought he was an arrogant prick. He paraded around uni in tight vests when it was -2 degrees outside, and always had an answer to every question in every lecture, an annoying little shit to cut a long story short. So when he flashed me a smile across the lecture room my first instinct was to flash him back a look of disgust. I hate him, hate him.
But then I remembered someone once telling me that when they first met me they thought I was ignorant, stuck-up and a prude. Now anyone who knows me knows that is the opposite to what I am, I respond to texts within minutes, I live in a council house and make fart jokes and very nearly gave my ex's mum an heart attack once when she walked in on us in a compromising position. So I thought, why not give this guy a chance? So I did, and it turned out, that he's lovely.
From buying me a cute pink & purple toothbrush when I forgot mine, to waiting in the snow for me and not even minding then when my train didn't come, to getting out of bed at 4am to go and shut the window for me because I was cold, to holding my hand in public and becoming obsessed with my favourite show.
It had all the trademarks of my friends' perfect relationship, but as I found out when I confessed I felt I was ready for it to be a proper relationship, it also had all the drawbacks of my disastrous 'relationship'. I can't actually remember a time where I've felt so torn between what to do, and being tempted to go against my own morals, but after knowing I'd tried my best and could do no more, it just made sense to just be friends. Seems to me like a huge waste of what could have been a great relationship, and also a huge waste of my mascara.
Here is a side of me which, as of usual, is grumpy and complains a lot, but who is also a hopeless romantic. If guys should learn one thing it's this: don't make a girl fall if you don't plan on catching her.
I've made this species of male the first of the chapters as it is what I've encountered (yet again) most recently, meaning I'm still pretty pissed off about the whole situation, which i guess makes good entertainment.
I have been unlucky enough to discover that there are men out there who are terrified of commitment, and I in turn, am terrified of those particular men.
Although it is a cliche to say it (but then again cliches are only formed because they are composed of truths), I've never been lucky in 'love'. I've only had one relationship that's lasted longer than a month, and to be honest, I'm not sure I can call it a relationship at all.
It was 3 years ago when it began, something bigger than crush, someone I really cared about. He literally was my world, I gave up everything I had to, my friends, the respect of my family, to be with this one person. Thing was, even though we spent pretty much every single day together since that first day, I was never his girlfriend, not officially anyway.
I loved him, even if he was a complete pain in the arse at times. From the little things, like when we went to the cinema and he offered to buy the pick & mix, but insisted we could only have 3 pear drops each as they're heavy and he wasn't 'made of money', and I accidentally ate one of his pear drops and he shouted at me and refused to speak to me for 3 days. I did the romantic reconciliation of showing up at his door with a huge bag of pear drops but he still sat there and ate 6 chocolate cupcakes in front of me and wouldn't let me have one as 'punishment'. What an arsehole. To the big things like lying, cheating, controlling... But somewhere between the silly arguments, the inside jokes and the hard times, i fell arse over tit in love with him. But when I said I loved him, he never said it back.
It took 8 months for him to finally make me his official girlfriend. I'd wanted it so badly that entire time, but when I finally got it, I ended it 3 days later. It was too late, I was too hurt by the fact that it had took him 8 months to realise what I'd known from the first few days. A month later he got a girlfriend, it took him 4 days to make it facebook official and they're still together now. I don't know if it's because he learnt his lesson from me or if he just knew with her what he'd been unsure of with me, but he's happy and I'm happy for him :)
Though I was devastated to lose him, I knew I'd done the right thing. Don't ever settle for second best, if someone doesn't like you for who you are, then you know what? Fuck them, fuck it. If someone makes you feel like shit, then don't make them feel like royalty, make them feel shitty too. Guilt-trip them until they cry if that is what it takes, but always make sure you get treated how you deserved to be treated.
Unrequited love forms the basis of my life, and you know what? I'd rather get teabagged by Ken Barlow than have to go through the misery of that ever again. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy (then again I actually would, she is a total bitch). Don't fall in love, fall off a bridge. It hurts less.
Though of course things aren't always crap, well they are for me, but some couples give real hope. Two of my friends are the most amazing couple I know, I would give my right arm to have what they have. They're not just a couple, they're best friends. But they don't forget that they're young and they have friends and a life to enjoy too, unlike some young couples who spend more than a year together and turn into oaps, they have the silliest arguments over chewing gum stuck in armpit hair, they bicker at times, but arguing only shows that you care enough to express yourself, and the way they look at each other makes you wanna gush and vomit at the same time :)
They prove that some men can commit, and feelings can be mutual. So why does it never happen to me?! I always get you're gorgeous, you're funny, you're intelligent, you're amazing but... there is always a but. I'm never girlfriend material with the guys I really wanna be with, I'm always the girl before the girlfriend.
I recently started seeing yet another commitmentphobe (though I wasn't aware of this until it was too late) and this time it was more than puzzling.
If I'm quite honest with you, I thought he was an arrogant prick. He paraded around uni in tight vests when it was -2 degrees outside, and always had an answer to every question in every lecture, an annoying little shit to cut a long story short. So when he flashed me a smile across the lecture room my first instinct was to flash him back a look of disgust. I hate him, hate him.
But then I remembered someone once telling me that when they first met me they thought I was ignorant, stuck-up and a prude. Now anyone who knows me knows that is the opposite to what I am, I respond to texts within minutes, I live in a council house and make fart jokes and very nearly gave my ex's mum an heart attack once when she walked in on us in a compromising position. So I thought, why not give this guy a chance? So I did, and it turned out, that he's lovely.
From buying me a cute pink & purple toothbrush when I forgot mine, to waiting in the snow for me and not even minding then when my train didn't come, to getting out of bed at 4am to go and shut the window for me because I was cold, to holding my hand in public and becoming obsessed with my favourite show.
It had all the trademarks of my friends' perfect relationship, but as I found out when I confessed I felt I was ready for it to be a proper relationship, it also had all the drawbacks of my disastrous 'relationship'. I can't actually remember a time where I've felt so torn between what to do, and being tempted to go against my own morals, but after knowing I'd tried my best and could do no more, it just made sense to just be friends. Seems to me like a huge waste of what could have been a great relationship, and also a huge waste of my mascara.
Here is a side of me which, as of usual, is grumpy and complains a lot, but who is also a hopeless romantic. If guys should learn one thing it's this: don't make a girl fall if you don't plan on catching her.
Tis the season to be grumpy. (Merry shitmas and a crappy new year).
Well today is the 24th of December 2010, which means I'm gonna do as is of expected of me and talk about Christmas & New Year.
Ahh Christmas, xmas, yuletide, Jesus' birthday...all different words for the same shitty day.
I'm an atheist for a start, so I don't celebrate Christmas for any sort of religious reason, to be honest I don't celebrate it at all.
When I was younger Christmas was so exciting. The sound of sleigh bells, putting out mince pies and carrots for Santa & Rudolph, a pile of presents, most of which i'd drawn love hearts next to in the Argos catalogue, a real family occassion.
As I have inevitably gotten older each year, I've found it has become less and less exciting. I firmly do believe that Christmas is only truly enjoyable if you are a child, if you have children or if you are extremely wealthy, I am none of those.
I am in that awkward in between stage where I'm too old to feel like a real part of my family anymore, but too young to even contemplate starting my own family. I am in a festive limbo.
And now I am, what you would call an adult, I don't get presents anymore, I get money. Not that i'm complaining, I'm a student with a mountain of debts so money is literally like gold dust, but it's just not got the same excitement as unwrapping the toy you've wanted all year (or in my case, because I'm a geek, the book you've wanted to read all year).
It's christmas eve as I write this, but I still refuse to believe that it actually is. There's no snow, no Home Alone on tv, no butterflies or giddy excitement, just an empty niggling feeling telling me that something's wrong, like you should be excited, cheer up you miserable cow.
Christmas dinner isn't even an excitement for me either because I am the vegetarian who doesn't like vegetables. My christmas dinner usually consists of yorkshire puddings, three types of potatoes (mashed, boiled, roast) and onion gravy. Yummy... some years it was even pizza and chips if my mum was cooking, which was more enjoyable for me to be honest. And Christmas pudding...yuck. Chistmas cake...yuck. Yule Log...hmm this is nice, no wait hang on, I am gonna vomit.
My favourite things about christmas are the good tv listings, drunkenly singing along to the Fairytale of New York after half a bottle of Port, time off school/college/uni, the smell of tinsel and tubs of Twiglets. But in theory I could do those things everyday if I wanted to, I just need to get Sky tv, a christmas cd, pack in uni and regularly shop at Iceland.
But...now onto New Year.
When I was younger it meant nothing to me except from meaning that I'd have to remember to write a different year when I dated the pages in my school books.
Now, at the ripe age of 19, it means 2 words - piss up.
New Year's Eve is the only night of the year when it's acceptable to snog the munter, drain the bar and sing as loudly and rubbishly as your lungs will allow.
I don't know about you, but I'll be glad to see the back of 2010.
Hey 2011, how you doin'? ;)
Ahh Christmas, xmas, yuletide, Jesus' birthday...all different words for the same shitty day.
I'm an atheist for a start, so I don't celebrate Christmas for any sort of religious reason, to be honest I don't celebrate it at all.
When I was younger Christmas was so exciting. The sound of sleigh bells, putting out mince pies and carrots for Santa & Rudolph, a pile of presents, most of which i'd drawn love hearts next to in the Argos catalogue, a real family occassion.
As I have inevitably gotten older each year, I've found it has become less and less exciting. I firmly do believe that Christmas is only truly enjoyable if you are a child, if you have children or if you are extremely wealthy, I am none of those.
I am in that awkward in between stage where I'm too old to feel like a real part of my family anymore, but too young to even contemplate starting my own family. I am in a festive limbo.
And now I am, what you would call an adult, I don't get presents anymore, I get money. Not that i'm complaining, I'm a student with a mountain of debts so money is literally like gold dust, but it's just not got the same excitement as unwrapping the toy you've wanted all year (or in my case, because I'm a geek, the book you've wanted to read all year).
It's christmas eve as I write this, but I still refuse to believe that it actually is. There's no snow, no Home Alone on tv, no butterflies or giddy excitement, just an empty niggling feeling telling me that something's wrong, like you should be excited, cheer up you miserable cow.
Christmas dinner isn't even an excitement for me either because I am the vegetarian who doesn't like vegetables. My christmas dinner usually consists of yorkshire puddings, three types of potatoes (mashed, boiled, roast) and onion gravy. Yummy... some years it was even pizza and chips if my mum was cooking, which was more enjoyable for me to be honest. And Christmas pudding...yuck. Chistmas cake...yuck. Yule Log...hmm this is nice, no wait hang on, I am gonna vomit.
My favourite things about christmas are the good tv listings, drunkenly singing along to the Fairytale of New York after half a bottle of Port, time off school/college/uni, the smell of tinsel and tubs of Twiglets. But in theory I could do those things everyday if I wanted to, I just need to get Sky tv, a christmas cd, pack in uni and regularly shop at Iceland.
But...now onto New Year.
When I was younger it meant nothing to me except from meaning that I'd have to remember to write a different year when I dated the pages in my school books.
Now, at the ripe age of 19, it means 2 words - piss up.
New Year's Eve is the only night of the year when it's acceptable to snog the munter, drain the bar and sing as loudly and rubbishly as your lungs will allow.
I don't know about you, but I'll be glad to see the back of 2010.
Hey 2011, how you doin'? ;)
Thursday 23 December 2010
Bus Wankers!! (Your pubic hairs offend me...)
Public Transport....
is the bane of my life.
Where do I even start on this topic which angers me so greatly?!
Bus drivers. The most miserable, selfish, inhumane bastards I am unlucky enough to encounter. The job interview process must be so easy...
'Are you a dickhead?'
'Yeah'
'You're hired!'
They are just pure evil personified. They brake harshly so old ladies fall and their Werther's Originals scatter everywhere, they look at you like you've just picked your nose and wiped it on their face if you give them anything over a fiver, and the worst ones of all, are the ones who don't say thankyou back when you say thanks as you get off.
Why do we even do that?! Oh thanks for doing your job and also for being a miserable pillock. I just do it because my mum learnt me to. But when I did it in London I got mistaken for a mental patient, apparently you shouldn't say thanks to a bendy bus...or a tube train for that matter.
I still have to get on the peasant wagon regularly thanks to miserably failing my driving test 4 times already, fingers crossed for 5th time lucky, though I wouldn't be able to afford a car or insurance anyway thanks to David Cameron (it's technically not his fault that I spend all my money on shoes and vodka but I like to blame every bad thing on him and his obscenely large forehead) and it is just like constant torture for a number of reasons:
1) Buses are never on time.
2) The crazy tramp/smelly fat man always chooses to sit next to me.
3) Bus stops are always full of graffiti, empty cans, used condoms and poo. My favourite bit of bus stop graffiti is on the bus stop near my house 'I luv Kirsty 4eva IDST if u split us up al stab ya'
4) There is always an empty can of Fanta rolling around spilling stickiness on your shoes and making an irritating clanging noise everytime the bus goes round a corner.
5) Chavs are clearly too poor to purchase earphones. I advise you take your own music unless you wanna listen to muffled N-Dubz playing out of a knackered Nokia.
6) Old people must get on the bus before you. Even if you've been waiting in the pissing rain for an hour and they've just turned up, I advise you just let them get on before you unless you want to get 'accidentally' hit by a walking stick and hear a rant about kids today.
7) They always smell like a mix of piss and mud.
And unfortunately trains aren't that much better :(
Since starting uni at Leeds I've had to become a regular user of local trains, aka Northern Rail.
Imagine the oldest, rustiest, smelliest train ever and that will come close to the Fitzwilliam to Leeds Northern Rail service. The only time I enjoy that journey is when this fat happy chinese man sits near me, he's so cheerful, like Buddha on speed. I saw a poster for Northern Rail that said '90% of our trains run on time' - now that is bollocks. Every single train of theirs i've been on has been delayed. Usually only by 3 minutes, but still, that's an extra 3 minutes of risking getting stabbed in Fitzy train station.
And here is a cautionary tale... if you ever need the toilet whilst on one of these trains, wait until you get to the station. Even if you have to pay 20p it is better than what I had to endure. I can only describe my traumatic experience as a pube infestation. There were 12 black, thick, curly pubic hairs around the sink, 8 around the toilet, 3 on the floor and 1 actually on the toilet roll. Gip. I know train journeys can be boring, but guys, surely you've got better things to do than sit and pull out your pubic hairs.
When I got back to my seat I used nearly an entire bottle of hand sanitiser. Ahh you've gotta love hand sanitiser, it tells you that you've got cuts on your hands that you didn't even know were there...
And the misery doesn't stop on the train itself, If you've never been to Leeds train station, don't.
It is the coldest place on the entire planet. Who cares if the ice caps are melting? Send the polar bears to Leeds. It can be 35 degrees outside but step onto a platform in that station and suddenly you're in Antarctica. Thankfully it is full of coffee shops so you can waste £3 on a shitty cup of tea to keep yourself warm.
Which leads me onto the next problem...
There are no bins in Leeds train station. Why? Because a couple of years ago a terrorist threatened to put a bomb in a bin. Key word being threatened. Bastard terrorists, they did good though, there's nothing more terrifying than the prospect of having to carry your rubbish round with you all day.
The moral of this story? Public is only one letter away from pubic.
is the bane of my life.
Where do I even start on this topic which angers me so greatly?!
Bus drivers. The most miserable, selfish, inhumane bastards I am unlucky enough to encounter. The job interview process must be so easy...
'Are you a dickhead?'
'Yeah'
'You're hired!'
They are just pure evil personified. They brake harshly so old ladies fall and their Werther's Originals scatter everywhere, they look at you like you've just picked your nose and wiped it on their face if you give them anything over a fiver, and the worst ones of all, are the ones who don't say thankyou back when you say thanks as you get off.
Why do we even do that?! Oh thanks for doing your job and also for being a miserable pillock. I just do it because my mum learnt me to. But when I did it in London I got mistaken for a mental patient, apparently you shouldn't say thanks to a bendy bus...or a tube train for that matter.
I still have to get on the peasant wagon regularly thanks to miserably failing my driving test 4 times already, fingers crossed for 5th time lucky, though I wouldn't be able to afford a car or insurance anyway thanks to David Cameron (it's technically not his fault that I spend all my money on shoes and vodka but I like to blame every bad thing on him and his obscenely large forehead) and it is just like constant torture for a number of reasons:
1) Buses are never on time.
2) The crazy tramp/smelly fat man always chooses to sit next to me.
3) Bus stops are always full of graffiti, empty cans, used condoms and poo. My favourite bit of bus stop graffiti is on the bus stop near my house 'I luv Kirsty 4eva IDST if u split us up al stab ya'
4) There is always an empty can of Fanta rolling around spilling stickiness on your shoes and making an irritating clanging noise everytime the bus goes round a corner.
5) Chavs are clearly too poor to purchase earphones. I advise you take your own music unless you wanna listen to muffled N-Dubz playing out of a knackered Nokia.
6) Old people must get on the bus before you. Even if you've been waiting in the pissing rain for an hour and they've just turned up, I advise you just let them get on before you unless you want to get 'accidentally' hit by a walking stick and hear a rant about kids today.
7) They always smell like a mix of piss and mud.
And unfortunately trains aren't that much better :(
Since starting uni at Leeds I've had to become a regular user of local trains, aka Northern Rail.
Imagine the oldest, rustiest, smelliest train ever and that will come close to the Fitzwilliam to Leeds Northern Rail service. The only time I enjoy that journey is when this fat happy chinese man sits near me, he's so cheerful, like Buddha on speed. I saw a poster for Northern Rail that said '90% of our trains run on time' - now that is bollocks. Every single train of theirs i've been on has been delayed. Usually only by 3 minutes, but still, that's an extra 3 minutes of risking getting stabbed in Fitzy train station.
And here is a cautionary tale... if you ever need the toilet whilst on one of these trains, wait until you get to the station. Even if you have to pay 20p it is better than what I had to endure. I can only describe my traumatic experience as a pube infestation. There were 12 black, thick, curly pubic hairs around the sink, 8 around the toilet, 3 on the floor and 1 actually on the toilet roll. Gip. I know train journeys can be boring, but guys, surely you've got better things to do than sit and pull out your pubic hairs.
When I got back to my seat I used nearly an entire bottle of hand sanitiser. Ahh you've gotta love hand sanitiser, it tells you that you've got cuts on your hands that you didn't even know were there...
And the misery doesn't stop on the train itself, If you've never been to Leeds train station, don't.
It is the coldest place on the entire planet. Who cares if the ice caps are melting? Send the polar bears to Leeds. It can be 35 degrees outside but step onto a platform in that station and suddenly you're in Antarctica. Thankfully it is full of coffee shops so you can waste £3 on a shitty cup of tea to keep yourself warm.
Which leads me onto the next problem...
There are no bins in Leeds train station. Why? Because a couple of years ago a terrorist threatened to put a bomb in a bin. Key word being threatened. Bastard terrorists, they did good though, there's nothing more terrifying than the prospect of having to carry your rubbish round with you all day.
The moral of this story? Public is only one letter away from pubic.
I would like to introduce you all to the crazy and colourful world of me. (Love songs suck and fairytales aren't true).
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