I've been mulling things over a lot lately and got to thinking about what I'd get up to should I ever have a psychotic episode. You have to prepare for these things, there's no pointing in wasting the opportunity should it come along. That's why so many nutters do something half-arsed like writing letters to MPs in green biro.
Things to do number one: The Umbrella
Umbrellas, obviously, need to be addressed. I suppose, on balance, I have no problem with people who use them responsibly (having eyes at umbrella spoke level being the issue here). I do have a major problem with people who don't know how to carry an umbrella. The clue is in the word handle but they're too damned thick to realise this. Instead, they hold the umbrella mid-way along its length and then march along the pavement, thrusting the bloody thing in a crotch-level parabola. The ferrule is always pointed backwards so that the inconsiderate bastards can pretend not to realise that they're just short of impaling passers-by. I often have to supress the urge to steal the umbrella from their grasp and shove it up their arse.
Even worse are the piloocks who do this while riding an escalator. C**ts. I have decided, then, that should I have a psychotic episode in the company of this type I shall wrest the umbrella from them and hurl it into oblivion.
Things to do number two: pavement parking
I'm an easy-going sort and don't get too irate when people park with their wheels on the kerb of the pavement. I do get very vexed indeed when they park completely on the pavement.
"Considerate parking"
they bleat, which is to say great for motorists who are still able to bomb along the sideroads of Britain with space aplenty for the scythes on their wheels. Not so good for the pedestrians with a six-inch width path to negotiate. Thank God I'm not in a wheelchair or pushing a baby's pram.
If the time ever comes, I shall decide that "if it's on the pavement, it is the pavement" and I shall walk over the cars in question. Ideally in the company of a big old Silver Cross pram filled with scrap metal.
Things to do number three: trains
It hardly needs saying does it?
Whenever we got another unannounced cancellation I would ring the Chairman of Northern Trains at his home or office (perhaps leaving messages at both) telling him that the train's not turned up and asking when he's coming to pick us up in his car to get us into work on time.
I can see this train of thought running and running...
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