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Invasion of the bloody people
Feb. 11th, 2005 11:31 amUgh. I despair. Again.
What is it about the sort of bloody people who munch and slurp comestibles in your car and then think it's acceptable to abandon the wrappings there? It pisses me right off on two levels.
One: I am hardly the sort of car-proud git who you see hoovering out the interior of their pride+joy in the garage of a weekend when normal people are staggering up to the place for bread, milk and a Sunday paper. However, should I get angry about the messy buggers in para. 1, I've conceptually joined the ranks of the Sunday car-washer, so the untidy fucks manage to make me angry with... Myself. A right result for them, I should imagine.
Two: I'm not your fucking dad. How dare you make me feel as if I am, just because I grew up in the middle of nowhere, learned to drive as a matter of survival and then kept a car because, well, that's what people do. (Yes, even as a student. Well, I say 'car'. It was a Renault-5 that became unexpectedly and hilariously three-wheeled. And indeed when I was unemployed.) You don't get to drop your crisp packets in the passenger footwell and you certainly don't get to cram in an unexpected mate. (Because abandoning a complete stranger makes me look like a complete cock.)
Learn some manners. Learn to exit the vehicle with your own rubbish.
What is it about the sort of bloody people who munch and slurp comestibles in your car and then think it's acceptable to abandon the wrappings there? It pisses me right off on two levels.
One: I am hardly the sort of car-proud git who you see hoovering out the interior of their pride+joy in the garage of a weekend when normal people are staggering up to the place for bread, milk and a Sunday paper. However, should I get angry about the messy buggers in para. 1, I've conceptually joined the ranks of the Sunday car-washer, so the untidy fucks manage to make me angry with... Myself. A right result for them, I should imagine.
Two: I'm not your fucking dad. How dare you make me feel as if I am, just because I grew up in the middle of nowhere, learned to drive as a matter of survival and then kept a car because, well, that's what people do. (Yes, even as a student. Well, I say 'car'. It was a Renault-5 that became unexpectedly and hilariously three-wheeled. And indeed when I was unemployed.) You don't get to drop your crisp packets in the passenger footwell and you certainly don't get to cram in an unexpected mate. (Because abandoning a complete stranger makes me look like a complete cock.)
Learn some manners. Learn to exit the vehicle with your own rubbish.
