Psst…….Andy here again. Well I’m still here. They haven’t wised up and realised I am a genius, and not mad yet. I don’t know how long they are planning on keeping me here, but not for much longer if me and Jim have got anything to do with it. We have formed an escape committee, and are presently digging two tunnels, one from each of our cells. You know how in the ‘Great escape’ they named their tunnels ‘Tom, Dick and Harry’, well we have named ours ‘ Posh and Becks’. I have to admit we haven’t got that far yet, I am using a pair of nail clippers that Norman smuggled in for me, and Jim is using a tea spoon that he stole from the canteen. Anyway, I will report on the progress of Posh and Becks at a later date. I suppose there are one or two advantages to being in here. I don’t have to go to work, get stuck in traffic jams, go shopping. Oh God going to Tescos used to be like hell on earth to for me. The hell started way before getting in the actual shop. The feeling of utter despair used to hit me as soon as I saw the queue for the bloody car park. This of course was not because there were that many people trying to get in there, it was because of the idle bastards who insisted on crawling round and round, trying to find a space right near the door. You know the one’s, those arseholes who just stop in the middle of the road because they have spotted someone just leaving the shop, who might have a parking space right near the door, that they can nip into. Why oh why oh why can’t I be allowed to have a rocket launcher. The next time I and every other poor soul is confronted with one of these twats, it should be my human right to step out of my car, hoist the rocket launcher on to my shoulder, and blast the bastard right out of the car park! But alas, they won’t listen to me. Even if there are parking spaces right near the doors, I am not allowed to park in them. No, that’s because I am not a mother with child. Why do they have special spaces just for them? Would it really hurt poor fragile little Joshua or Victoria to walk fifty feet every now and again? If it’s not them, it’s the bloody disabled. God what a bunch of moaning gits they are aren’t they. So you have only got one leg, I have got a bit of a headache, but it apparently doesn’t entitle me to park near the doors! The thing that always amuses me about disabled parking spaces, is that when it is raining, the bright orange paint that covers them, turns into a slippery death trap. Oh the irony! I am quite frankly fed up with these cordoned of parking areas for ‘special’ people. Where is it going to stop? It surely won’t be long before we have a ‘Gay and lesbian’ parking zone. Or a ‘Muslim parking area’ Lets not stop there, why not have ‘Jewish parking bays’, although these should be kept as far away from each other as possible! ‘East European parking zones’ (which they tarmac themselves) could be set up. How long will it be before some sort of car park ushers are employed to direct you to the relevant parking area. In a similar vein to those bloody ‘Greeters’ you get just inside the doors in supermarkets. “Hello sir. I hope you have a pleasant retail experience with us here today”. or, “If there is anything I can help you with, please don’t hesitate to ask”. What about telling that fucking woman in the frozen vegetables aisle, to stop leaving her fucking trolley in the middle of the aisle, so that nobody else can get passed, and inform her that although it may come as a bit of a shock, there are actually other people on the planet apart from her. This will have to wait of course, as I am still out in the car park. Where was I?…….oh yes, the car park ushers. They would obviously be issued with a fluorescent vest, which would no doubt make them feel very important, and it would be their job to direct you to the relevant car parking zone, depending on your special needs or requirements.
Attendant “Good morning sir, I am your ‘ Vehicle parking zone attendant’, and I will be making your stay with us here today, as pleasant as possible. Now what special needs or requirements does sir have”?
Me “Er none really, I just want to park”.
Attendant “I’m sorry sir, I can’t release you into the parking area, until I have ascertained your special individual requirements”.
Me “Well that’s very kind of you, but I don’t have any special needs, I just want to park, and get on with the shopping”.
Attendant “Well I’m sorry sir, but your not passing this check point until I have fully assessed you. Are you a homosexual sir?”
Me “No”.
Attendant “Have you ever thought about it?”
Me” No”.
Attendant “Oh come now sir, I think we all have wondered what a little dabble would be like, I know I have.”
Me “Well I haven’t”.
Attendant “Are you disabled?”
Me “No”.
Attendant “Are you a Muslim or any other member of a religious minority?”
Me “No”.
Attendant “Immigrant?”
Me “No”.
Attendant “Are you a Mother with child?”
Me “Do I look like it?”
Attendant “Single parent family?”
Me “No”.
Attendant “Mmm, well I have been right through my list, and you don’t seem to be very special at all do you sir. Ok, You will have to go and park over there, in the ’Nothing special area’.
Me “Well how far is it?”
Attendant “Just over there sir, look there is a sign, here, use my binoculars”.
Inside the shop is no better. I have already mentioned the bloody woman with the huge trolley parked in the middle of the aisle. Incidentally, this woman is guaranteed to have an enormous four wheel drive vehicle parked in a ‘Mother and child’ slot. In the back of this behemoth of a car, there will be two specifically tailored, bullet proof titanium and carbon fibre child car seats for little Joshua and Victoria, and behind them, a dog guard for the spaniels. Richard, her husband, will be something big in advertising, and they will live in a mock Tudor five bedroom house in a small village. Victoria loves her pony, and Joshua is of course captain of the his school croquet team…….Where is that rocket launcher?
No shopping trip would be complete of course, without having to listen to some dickhead talking loudly into his mobile phone. He is asking his wife if they have got any coco-pops, and also telling her that Gavin and himself closed that vital deal today…….FUCK RIGHT OFF. Why do people shout into mobile phones? Do they understand the concept of a mobile phone? I sometimes wonder how the hell I survived before the days of mobile phones. I remember all those years ago, when I would happily swan off miles and miles in the car to somewhere or other. Not once did it cross my mind that I might break down, and if I had of broken down, I would have simply walked to the nearest phone box, or called at the nearest house, where some benevolent lady would let me use her phone to call for assistance, while she offered me tea and cake to sustain me. Now I can’t venture upstairs to the toilet without being laden down with communications equipment. Quite what disaster might beset me on my arduous journey upstairs I don’t know, but there I am, mobile phone, spare mobile phone. Battery charger, spare battery charger portable telecommunications aerial in case I can’t get a signal…….dear God what has happened to us all?
Anyway, what’s been happening in the asylum, sorry Davina doesn’t like us using that term, she prefers ‘Mental welfare environment’. Well not a lot really. Me, Jim, Cleopatra, Nigel, Rafael, and Father O’Tooled up were in the T.V. Room the other day, and Davina came in and informed us that the health minister would be visiting us next week, on a whistle stop tour of the countries ’Mental welfare establishments’. She said we were to all be on our best behaviour. In other news, Jim is still not responding to treatment. He was apparently still shouting “Shirt lifter” even when he was strapped to the bed, and plugged into the mains. Nigel the manic depressive had to be talked down off the roof of the gymnasium again. This is becoming a regular occurrence, and I have to say can be quite entertaining. I did think it was very tactless of Jim to shout up to Nigel the last time he was up there, would he mind threatening to kill himself on Tuesdays in future, as there wasn’t much on the telly that day. The Pols are still winking and blowing kisses at me, and I have to say, that due to the lack of female companionship these last few weeks, it has surprisingly put a bit of a spring in my step! Nothing much else to report really, will write again after the health ministers visit. Cheerio for now.
Yours Andy.
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