What is that supposed to achieve apart from letting anti-smokers feel even smugger than usual? Are they going to claim that millions of lives have been saved by it? [Yes, they probably are]
Let’s do something slightly more constructive.
Let’s have a World No Computer Day. Look at all those poor children who are brain-dead because of the nasty computer games.
Let’s have a World No Electricity Day. Dangerous stuff, that electricity, especially in the hands of children.
Let’s have a World No Mobile Phone Day. Just think of those nasty little radio waves frying your brain. Research has shown that phones kill billions every day.
Let’s have a World No Food Day. Think of all those obese children.
Let’s have a World No Transport Day. Think of all those poor children being killed by passive cars.
There was a wee item in the news last week that caught my attention.
An off duty Garda [police officer] was accused in the courts of beating the shite out of a bloke during a late night street brawl. In a nutshell, a bloke made a comment about the Garda’s brother’s shirt looking ‘gay’, so the Garda beat the crap out of the bloke, leaving him unconscious with a broken nose, facial fractures, broken teeth and bleeding to the brain. Nice.
The day following the sentence, the judge announced that he had ‘revised the sentence’ and that the full eighteen months was to be suspended. Apparently members of the Garda and prison staff are ‘entitled’ to reduced sentences as they would have a particularly tough time in gaol.
There are a couple of minor points that concern me about this.
The first is that Gardai are supposed to be the face of law and order in this country. They should lead by example and if caught breaking the law they should receive much tougher sentences than the rest of us lawless citizens. I can’t help but wonder if I were convicted of the same crime, would I receive a mere eighteen months [suspended]?
How come that the judge revised the sentence the following day? There was no official appeal apart from the Garda’s legal representative contacting the judge. The judge claimed he had ‘overlooked’ the fact that the accused was a Garda. Again I wonder how long I would have to wait for an appeal against a sentence? Slightly more than twenty fours hours, I would imagine.
I wonder what the victim made of all this carry on? As he was being kicked to a pulp, he wasn’t given the chance of a reprieve? He didn’t get the kicking suspended? I think a sentence of eighteen months [with no suspension] would be grand. Let the Garda get the shite kicked out of him by his cellmates so he can see what it feels like. But then he wouldn’t have had any cellmates as he would have been given special treatment. He would have been given a cell of his own away from the riff raff, just in case he should be treated badly by the other prisoners.
It starts with an almost unconscious feeling that all is not right with the world.
It is a sense of impending doom that lasts for maybe a second or two.
Then it hits.
There is the gagging reflex, with a sense of nausea that is worse than the worst hangover. The eyes stream and the throat feels raw. Everything takes on a sickly green hue. There is a strong urge to vomit which I resist as best I can. The dizziness is the worst, as the blood drains from my head, leaving me feeling cold and clammy.
All I can do is sit tight and wait for it all to pass, which it eventually does after what seems like an age.
It was more a case of child minding rather than babysitting as she is six and a half [and the half is very important].
As I had to bring her to school, I had to get up at the incredibly unearthly hour of eight. Eight! For fuck’s sake, I had only just gone to bed. Anyhows, she happily had her breakfast and suggested a game of hide and go seek. I politely declined and managed to get her dressed, with only a few threats and a small amount of bribery. Leastwise I got her to school on time and reasonably in one piece.
Of course that got me thinking. I don’t remember what age I was when I started school, but I think I was five. The school was a mile away though it seemed like three times that, but I checked on Google earth and it was exactly a mile. There would be a knock on the door in the morning and this young woman [she was probably about eight or nine, but she was fucking ancient as far as I was concerned] would walk me to school. Hail, rain, snow or the occasional sunshine, we would walk that mile and come the afternoon we would walk all the way back. In those days there was no such thing as being driven to school. A lot of the parents didn’t even had a car.
While I was in Google Earth, I had a quick glance and fuck me but the old Gulag is still there. I thought they would have ripped it down years ago but it hasn’t changed one jot. They seem to have dispensed with the barbed wire and Alsatians though. I wonder if the gate is still electrified?
I really hated that school and it set me on the path towards hating all later schools. It was a convent school and the fucking nuns used to freak me out. I was terrified by those apparitions who used to shout at us from the top of the class. They were just a mass of black with white bibs, and the only part of them that resembled a human was their faces. I have been scared of penguins ever since.
To this day, I find it strange that Puppychild actually loves school.
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