Archive for August, 2011

Not every cloud has a silver lining

August 31st, 2011

They must be very happy.

Those people who believed in man made Global Warming must be jumping for joy.

By now, they must have seen the results from CERN on the CLOUD experiment.  Though maybe they haven’t, as the mainstream media seem to be remarkably quiet about it.  After all, this is news literally of global significance.

The relief must be palpable.  The burden is off our shoulders now that it is pretty well proved that it is the sun that is controlling our weather and climate and not all those nasty CO2 emissions.

Now that CO2 is way down the list of suspects, they can stop this frantic switch to ferociously expensive wind generated electricity.  They can revert to good old relatively cheap fuels like gas.  There is enough of it to go around for many years to come.

They needn’t worry that all Australia is going insane.

They can even remove all those Carbon Taxes and all that Carbon Trading.

Of course, if I were a really cynical person, I would say that the CERN report will be buried and forgotten about, as they are making far too much money out of us.

But I know they wouldn’t do that.

Would they?

Why?

August 30th, 2011

Why is it that if I wanted to, I can’t upend a couple of chairs in a pub and then crawl on all fours under them shouting “choo choo choo I’m a steam train going through a tunnel choo choo”?  Kids do it and no one bats an eyelid.

Why can’t I walk into a restaurant, walk up to a fully occupied table and just stand and stare at the occupants with big hungry eyes?  Kids do that frequently and no one seems to notice.

If I see a lovely looking woman the other side of the street, why can’t I just wander over, give her a quick shag and then go on about my business?  People don’t seem to mind dogs doing it.

I might add that I have no particular desire to do the first two, but it is the principle that matters.

That third one is a different ballgame, if you’ll pardon the pun.

Life just isn’t fair sometimes.

*sigh*

Removing my hole

August 29th, 2011

I think I have mentioned our lane before.

Just in case there are a couple of you who haven’t been reading this site since its inception, I had better explain.

Our lane used to be a private lane, but then the County Council took it in hand.  Some of us were a little chuffed by this as it meant we wouldn’t have to maintain it any more.  However, the Council had other plans.

What they have done is to build a sort of breeding ground for potholes.  I’m not sure whether they plant pothole seeds or what, but they are growing them at a fierce rate so that our lane is probably the premier pothole nursery in the county.

When the potholes are fully fledged the Council comes along and harvests them .  They are then transplanted out onto the main roads throughout the area.  Quite a few times in the past I have had to swerve on a main road to avoid a pothole that I recognised from our lane.  When you rattle across them on a daily basis, you rapidly get to know and love each individual pothole, and it’s nice to see them being put to good use where the whole population can crash into them.

Apparently today is another harvest day.  The Council are out there with a load of heavy machinery, the lane is reasonably smooth once more and a fleet of lorries is ferrying the potholes to all the areas that really need them.  I’ll miss them as I had grown quite fond of this latest crop.

It will take a little while to get used to the fact that I can drive the lane at more than two miles per hour or that I can actually drive in a straight line without risking tyre, wheel rim, suspension or my nerves.

I’m not worried though.

I know that in a week or two the new crop will have taken root and will be growing at a rate of knots.  Soon it will be infested with a new batch of holes that will grow to greet me every time I try and drive out the lane.

I just hope they’ll be big enough in time for the Winter Harvest.

Going through the motions

August 28th, 2011

I HATE cleaning out blocked drains and sewers.

It’s a really shite job.

Hard drugs

August 27th, 2011

nurofen

I see someone is supposed to have tampered with packs of Nurofen Plus?

Of course that doesn’t affect us here in Ireland.

Why not?

Because the packs that have been tampered with are the 32 tablet packs and they aren’t on sale here. 

In Ireland, for some reason that completely baffles me, we aren’t mature enough to handle Nurofen Plus.  The powers that be, in their infinite wisdom have decreed that Nurofen is some kind of hard drug and must be hidden from sight.  You heard me – Nurofen Plus is an under the counter drug here.  If you want a pack, you won’t see it on the shelves as it has to be hidden from view.  And even then, the salesperson is obliged to give you a stern lecture about the use of the tablet.

I am not joking.

If I go into a pharmacy and ask for a pack of Nurofen Plus, I have to stand there while I am lectured about the fact that it contains codeine and that I am to be careful how I take it.  If I tell then to shut the fuck up, I’m told that I have to take the lecture, or no tablets.

If you really want to cause trouble though, try asking for more than 24.  First you get a stern lecture that 24 is the most they will sell, and if you persist, you have to get a special dispensation from the pharmacist.  You have to be interviewed by a pharmacist [who is usually half my age] as to why you want them.

I have been around since the middle of the last century.  I fucking know what’s what and I am fucking mature enough to know what’s good for me and what isn’t.  To be lectured to by a scut of a sales assistant is fucking humiliating for both me and the assistant. 

As an aside, I can guarantee you that I can walk into any pharmacy in France and ask for a pack of 48.  No problem.  No lectures.  They are there in plain view.  Do I want to buy three or for boxes of 48?  Again no problem, so long as I can pay.  There I am treated like the adult that I am, and it is refreshing.

What the fuck is coming down the road next?

Pubs with no drinks on view in case I might be tempted to become an alcoholic?

Supermarkets with plain unmarked wooden cupboards in case I actually see some food and instantaneously become obese?

Am I to receive a lecture at the  supermarket check-out about the shortcomings of my chosen diet?

This fucking godforsaken country is really starting to boil my piss.

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