keresaspa: (Nina looking a tad pertubed)
I rather fear I say this every year but it wants repeating - St Patrick's Day can take a flying leap as far as I'm concerned. Despite my Irish republican tendencies I'm no patriot and as such a day given over to displays of nationalistic fervour is never going to sit too well with me. Still, for the most part I can generally ignore it, pull up the covers and let the mayhem take place but today that certainly wasn't the case.

I have a severely disabled uncle who lives a couple of miles down the road from me. No longer able to walk, his place has fell into severe disrepair to the point where the Fold has ordered a big overhaul or else he's out on his arse. My auld doll is his next of kin so much of it has been dumped in her lap and, in turn, been passed on to me as his only other relative (ignoring all his other nieces, nephews and their offspring, none of whom can be arsed) so these last lot of weeks have involved a load of fannying about on my part, sorting, rearranging, humping heavy loads and various other bits of donkey work that invariably get dumped on you when you are huge like me.

Today however - a three hour wait for a delivery from Argos. Of a bin.

A fucking bin!

I might not care for donkey work but carrying a bin a few streets would have taken me about ten minutes instead of three hours of sitting with sod all to do, having had to battle my way through scenes of unmitigated carnage on the Ormeau Road where seemingly the entire under-25 population of rural Northern Ireland had descended to get royally pissed. Beyond repeating five or six phrases, more or less at random, my uncle (who has had several strokes, the first of which was in 1989) is more or less unable to communicate and I had already done all the sorting I could so there was literally nothing to do for those three hours other than wait for a doorbell to ring. Ordinarily it would have been the responsibility of the person in charge to let the delivery man in but she's wangled herself a few days off so yours truly was in the firing line once again.

It was well after five by the time I got out of there and the buses were running on a skeleton service so once again I was forced to walk up the Ormeau Road, where all the bais had a day's solid drinking behind them and were all the more obnoxious for it. Put it this way, when I first went down the road at just after 1 there were chaps whipping their knobs out on the main road for a pish so four hours later things were a lot worse. One house appeared to be on fire, which was a source of amusement to the assembled morons, some idiot was doing cartwheels before one of his number did us all a favour and belted him and the harassment of the female population had begun in earnest, again to the amusement of the assembled morons (the rabid misogyny of so many young - and not so young - men these days is really disturbing). Hell, that was just the tip of the iceberg as I didn't stick around but suffice to say days like this make the fact that haemochromatosis severely restricts my alcohol intake seem like a blessing rather than a "Celtic curse".

So St. Patrick's Day - you can keep it. Vulgar, drunken idiots supposedly celebrating an accident of birth by living down to every negative stereotype about their kind, the sort so blind with sectarian hatred that they wrap themselves in a made-up green, white and yellow tricolour flag because they're too bigoted to don the colour orange that makes up one third of Thomas Francis Meagher's banner. Future Sinn Fein leaders in other words. The only day of the year that kind of makes me wish I had been born a loyalist, this might have to join the Twelfth as an excuse to quit this backwards dump for a while in future.
keresaspa: (Diggory)
These last few years of spending my Saturday afternoons (and occasional week-night) trailing around watching local football have delivered many things but not an abandonment, something of a surprise in itself given the awful weather we frequently endure in this part of the world. Well, that all changed today in some rather bizarre circumstances.

With my usual mob not in action I decided to check out Rathcoole's match with Sofia Farmer in the Ballymena League out in Newtownabbey. I hadn't heard of the latter club until this season but so far their few matches all seemed to end in very heavy defeats and, given that Rathcoole's last outing was an 8-3 win, I reckoned I had a chance of seeing a real hammering. Given that the Diamond lets you in for nitto the deal was sealed and so off I set.

Sure enough things went according to the script. Sofia Farmer played like eleven strangers and were 2-0 down within about five minutes. Rathcoole completely dominated and went four-nil up early on. Then however the pace slackened and the visitors came into their own a little bit, pulling a goal back to go in at half time 4-1 down.

The end of the first half and the start of the second half saw some flared tempers. Rathcoole's number 9 and Farmer's number 18 seemed rather poorly disposed towards one another whilst more than once the referee was surrounded by members of both teams disagreeing with decisions or demanding cards be shown for fouls, real or imagined. One member of the Sofia Farmer team in particular, a Neymar-lookalike whose number I didn't catch, got especially annoyed with the treatment he was getting and complained incessantly to the referee. In some cases his moaning was justified in others it was overreaction to what was fairly typical of this level of football. A fifth Rathcoole goal followed but the match continued in the same increasingly fractious spirit.

Then it happened. Out of nowhere the Neymar wannabe, at the end of a long whine, kicked his marker full force in the back of the leg. The ref whistled but the victim lost his rag and chased the Sofia Farmer player, quickly joined in his aggressive pursuit by three or four of his team mates. Next thing everybody was flying in with the vast majority of the players pulling, hauling and swinging at each other. As if that wasn't enough members of the Rathcoole coaching staff invaded the pitch, with one little man in a beanie hat aggressively swinging his head here, there and everywhere. By this point the referee had completely lost control and stood back watching as the mayhem ensued. Finally Neymar walked off the pitch and called the rest of the team with him. A few resisted and tried to calm things down, with a few Rathcoole peacemakers now also wanting to restore order, but there was no shifting the majority of Sofia Farmers who buggered off back to the dressing room. So that was that, match abandoned.

Shameful scenes didn't do it justice and where this leaves Sofia Farmer is anybody's guess. Indeed, given how poor their start has been, I wouldn't be amazed if they just pulled out of the league altogether. Still, if punishment is to be dealt out (which, presumably it must), it would be wrong not to deal with both clubs. Neymar's unprovoked attack on his marker followed by the walk-off is so far removed from the norms of football that it's ridiculous but the home side didn't cover themselves in glory either. The way they chased after the attacker with vengeance on their minds was deplorable and the fact that members of their staff jumped onto the pitch to get involved also needs to be dealt with, as the Diamond was far from a safe environment for its visitors today. Rathcoole is hardly the most welcoming place in the world as it is (not specifically the people, who are in my experience as much of a mixed bag as those anywhere else, more the paintings of machine guns that greet you when you enter), whilst Sofia Farmer had no supporters, only one man who wasn't playing and there were several young guys boozing at the ground (none of whom, I hasten to add, got involved in the melee but still provided a threatening backdrop for any opposition). There's also the fact that at least nine of the Sofia Farmer players were BME and, as far as I'm aware, they're all immigrants, something that a few members of the crowd had already commented upon during the course of the match. None that I heard used specifically racist language, but nonetheless the ethnic identity of the opposition players was deemed worthy of comment by more than one supporter. Mind you, I personally didn't hear anything to do with ethnic or national identity said during the brawl so, for my part, I'm not making claims in that direction. Ultimately the referee's handling on the whole incident was very poor, although again the lack of assistants and fourth officials at this level meant he was effectively on his own so I can't really blame him for bottling it. It's catch-22 of course - increasing the number of officials at matches like these and you price a lot of these smaller clubs out of the game and force them to drop down to the junior levels.

Ultimately football was the big loser today as a bad-tempered match turned into a violent farce and two clubs are left with a cloud over their respective names. I was able to catch the last half hour of an altogether more uneventful encounter between Rathcoole's next door neighbours Rathfern Rangers and their opponents Donard Hospital but I found it hard to concentrate after what I had just witnessed. A bad and crazy day for the local game.


Jul. 10th, 2014 08:22 pm
keresaspa: (Chaplin Modern Times)
Well, that'll do me as I'm off to London tomorrow for my annual avoid the Twelfth break. Given the much threatened "graduated response" I suppose I can expect to come back to a state of martial law with a junta led by the Orange Order, UVF, UDA, Combat 18 and the Wolf's Hook White Brotherhood launching wave upon wave of terror on the Fenians (no doubt with Martin McGuinness offering his broad support). Ah well, I'll worry about that next week for now good luck to them as I'm offski.
keresaspa: (Starry Plough)
Why I didn't wear a poppy this year )
keresaspa: (Fran Drescher)
With my usual two up the country today and the city centre in the control of not only Willie Frazer but also the Orange Order (unopposed as ever by the shit-scared republicans) my options for the football were limited. My initial choice was Ford v Colin Valley in Division 2A (which is actually the fifth division of that league and the eighth tier overall) of the Northern Amateur League, a three mile stroll away from my house. I made it there a few minutes before kick-off and was faced with the grim reality of football at such a lowly level - three pitches with matches going on, not so much as a fence round the pitch the match was to take place on and bugger all fans for either club. There and then I decided on a new rule - no fence, no attendance - and I left them to it, safe in the knowledge that there were other options in the vicinity.

About a mile and a half away there were two Championship 2 (third tier) matches taking place so I shuffled off in their general direction. PSNI v Chimney Corner was a possibility but in the end I plumped for Queen's University against Lurgan Celtic, primarily because I had been to the cops' Newforge Lane ground earlier in the season but not my alma mater's place. Similar set-up to the filth, being a vast complex containing a variety of grounds for different sports and it took me a while to find the football ground. Inevitably the crowd was fairly meagre, although most of those in attendance were Lurgan Celtic supporters and - given that I owe allegiance to their west Belfast kinsmen, given that my ma was born in Lurgan and given that I don't have that most American of traits of being a fanatic for an educational institution's sport teams just because I attended it as a student - I decided for one day only to join them.

The first half was fairly end to end with both teams looking half decent but neither mustering much in the way of finishing. I had seen Lurgan Celtic earlier this year and they looked better here even though it appeared to be the same team as before ("Jazzer", "Buckshot" and the rest all still being present and correct). The main event of the first half came near the end when as the ball ran out of play the pair of players chasing it went careening into a surrounding fence. It look innocuous enough but far from it as both men lay there for ages before the Queen's player was helped off whilst his Lurgan opposite number remained prone. He was there so long that it seemed he might be dead but in the end it turned out he had shattered his knee and it was well into half time before the ambulance men carried him out in a wheelchair. The Queen's guy got off a bit lighter but his afternoon was also over and his foot had to be strapped up. All action stuff!

QUB came out for the second half like men possessed but soon it returned to the earlier fifty-fifty stuff when suddenly Celtic won a very soft free kick not far from the Queen's box. A chap called Niall Lavery stepped up and stroked the ball delicately over the wall and into the net for the only goal of the game on the hour. For the rest of the match Queen's frantically tried to get back into the game but they just couldn't get it together and Lurgan held on in the bitter cold for a win that leaves them still in touch with the promotion race (but which pretty much condemns Queen's to another year in the basement).

Overall, not a bad game, played to a fairly decent standard in rather lugubrious surroundings. It wasn't my first choice match (I had hoped to go watch Albert Foundry but these interminable flag protests have meant Saturdays in the Highfield estate are not an option), nor indeed my second (but I abandoned the Ford game, reasoning that I would have been as well watching some wee lads having a kickabout in Cherryvale as remain at Strangford PF) but as bronze medals go it proved a dinky little diversion.
keresaspa: (Tijuana toad)
Once again conflagration has broken out in Northern Ireland. Let the Assembly conspire with their masters in Westminster to dismantle the welfare state, punish the poor, wipe out the DLA that supports the ex-paramilitaries and slowly but surely kill off the NHS and the boys will happily sit on their hands (a criticism equally relevant to both sides, admittedly). But pass a law saying the symbol of one side should not fly permanently over the council chambers of the capital and once again the loyalist hordes come out in force, channelling the spirit of Ulster Day, the Ulster Workers Council and the Ulster Clubs by bringing intimidation, violence and disruption to all until their intransigent demands are met. I mean it's not as if the council has voted to hoist the starry plough from the City Hall but still the usual fascist response ensues as the working class Protestant hordes, stoked on by their upper middle class master in the Unionist parties, take to the streets to bully their way to what they want. Where but Northern Ireland would people take to the streets and attack political offices for something so bloody conformist as flying the union flag? Other countries get their "springs" we get an uprising in favour of hierarchy and dominance with a section of the working class unleashing violence in order that they might now their place a little bit more.

Of course the RUC will never go against their own, no matter what they call themselves these days. In England peaceful protesters with genuine grievances are treated like dirt, corralled like cattle and baton charged into a bloody pulp whilst if the Fenians went around smashing up buildings and attacking the filth the plastic bullets would be out quicker than you can say "Robert Hamill" but loyalist mobs are, as usual, free to do what they please when they please. Meanwhile the response of homophobic young earth creationist and hospital closer-in-chief Edwin Poots? Punish the violence by giving them their precious butcher's apron flying from Stormont too. Christ, if he worked for free his wages would be too high! If all those Egyptian protesters still haven't worked out that the difference between dictatorship and democracy is that in the latter you get to pick which inept, corrupt, power-hungry idiots get to order you about then let them look to Poots for confirmation.

In the interest of balance however I will give a rare bit of credit to Peter Robinson for at least attempting to offer a moderate, reasoned response. However I noticed he stopped short of condemning it, no doubt mindful of the votes he'll be seeking in East Belfast in 2015. Good to see that Hilary Clinton has condemned the violence though. Yup, nothing better than some bigshot American breezing in to pat us on the head and tell us how we should all get along with one hand, whilst giving a thumbs up to Israeli genocide with the other. Bugger off home, Hil, you're input is not needed and you've had your run in the pity job that Obama gifted you after wiping the floor with you in the Democratic primaries.

I must admit my sympathy for the Alliance is limited in this issue. They have followed the lonely path of well-heeled moderation previously followed by the Ulster Liberal Party and the Unionist Party of Northern Ireland but, as Humpty-Dumpty so succinctly demonstrated, when you spend all your time sitting in the fence (or wall in the Eggman's case) you will eventually have a great fall. Naomi Long might be seeking to portray herself as a great heroine but, whether by choice or not, she owes her seat in Westminster to the UVF as, without the endorsement of Stephen Matthews at the last election she would still be parking her ample rump on the cold benches of the City Hall rather than the plush loungers of the Palaces of Westminster. Matthews could just as easily have roused his supporters and stooges on the Newtownards Road, Sydenham, Dundonald and the rest to vote for Trevor Ringland or David Vance in order to force Robbo out but he anointed Long and obviously in return it was expected that she and her party would play ball. They haven't and so the special relationship is over. David Ford's decision to leave Marian Price to her fate means that the Alliance have already made republicanism their enemy so by falling foul of the loyalists they have painted themselves into a corner. But them's the breaks. They've been as complicit in the cuts-happy cosiness of the Assembly as anybody else so sorry about your damn luck.

So, plus ça change really as some silly little concession is made, loyalists react like mindless animals and bugger all is done to stop them. It would be funny if the whole thing wasn't so depressingly interminable.
keresaspa: (Tiger Jeet Singh)
The shops are apparently having it rough (poor dears) as the impoverished hordes being crucified by the ConDem junta suddenly find that it is harder to celebrate the birth of the Messiah by spending fistfuls of rhino on the over-priced and unnecessary tat with which they are packed. However it hasn't stopped the town reaching its usual agog state these last few days. If Dante's fourth circle of Hell is to be defined as Avarice then I think the closest he might come to finding it would be Castle Court in the fortnight before Christmas. People from the sticks who don't get out very often and don't quite know how to walk as a result, groups of morons standing in the middle of the street talking, ensuring that nobody else can get past them, not to mention the dreaded prams. I appreciate that the world is overcrowded and so we need everybody to have a lot more children to make up for the surfeit of people but at times like this when they know everywhere is going to be totally mental could they not put babies in those baby carrier things to save a bit of space? They can't ALL have bad backs surely and trying to get out of the way when three separate pieces of wheeled steel are converging on you is an experience that I would really like to see put to bed. That and the fact that so many people who push prams seem to have had lobotomies and so stand dead still in the middle of shop aisles, thus preventing everyone from getting past them. Is it asking too much to expect people to get a licence to pilot these things? New stream of revenue right there Dave, although I suppose it would mean attacking the breeders and we all know politicians find us childless freaks a much easier target for a kicking. Ideally I would avoid the town altogether but things need to be got and inevitably I will have to endure it tomorrow again when haemochromatosis demands its blood sacrifice and I find no way to access the Falls Road without passing through the city centre. Blood loss + prams = joy of joys.

I suppose I should also say something about Saint Barack (peace be upon him) delivering peace, demawkcracy and prosperity to Eye-raq but a) you all know my thoughts about all that by now and b) The Morning Star has already stated pretty much everything I think about so just read that and insert bits of oblique Belfast slang here and there and you'll have my take on it. Interesting too just how much Obama attacked the invasion when he was looking election but how much he is revelling in triumph now, some years later. Nobel Peace Prize well earned there Hussein.
keresaspa: (Finlayson)
So the riots go on...and on...and on... and you get the rest of the picture. I've said all I wanted to say about them yesterday. Not much you can do except wait for a response from the NIO. Should get that late next year some time. Peter Hain will have to go soon if he doesn't pull his finger out. Fat chance of a former Liberal doing something, mind you.

The Ashes. Thank God that's over. Normally reasonable people turning into gibbering nationalistic wrecks over a bunch of middle-class tossers with white paint on their lips. If I turn over to The Simpsons again and see it has been cancelled to watch a bunch of peroxide-headed men eating oranges I swear the telly will be out the window. Caught the tail end of it yesterday (as usual encroaching on Simpsons time, thank God for RTE) and saw a flag in the crowd that said AVFC (Aston Villa Football Club for those mystified by all this) on it. Nothing like bandwagon jumpers. Cricket is the new Rugby Union and will soon go back to its rightful place when England turn crap again. After all, who outside of the actual fans gives a toss about Johnny Wilkinson any more? Plus like every other sporting event in England it brings out rampant xenophobia, which the 21st century can really do without. Not that I really care that much, when I think about it. Cricket is just a mystery to all but the most stuck-up of Irishmen and waiting on a variety of important things is making me a bit cranky. Carry on, cricketers (but please get the Hell off my TV at 6 o' the clock).
keresaspa: (Diggory)
Hectic! only word to describe the last few nights in this old town. Luckily I didn't come face to face with any of it myself, even on Friday night, but there has been a funny old feeling in the air. Last night I heard a series of bangs at 11 PM (might have been fireworks, might have been explosions), then at my 1 AM feg I heard a short burst of automatic gunfire, followed at my 3 AM feg by the roar of sirens. All this because a bunch of bigots can't get down a road in order to rub people's noses in it a bit more. Meanwhile the middle class Orange Order sit back, safe in the knowledge that the lumpenproletariat of Loyalism will do their dirty work for them by rioting to support inequality, a divided working class and dominance. Pitiful! Somebody even tried to justify the riots by saying that because the cops aren't called 'Royal' anymore they don't have respect. So what about when Trimble and Paisley were whacking the filth with their umbrellas at Drumcree when they were still the RUC? Bullshit with a side order of bollocks, methinks. From what they're saying the riots will continue until they get their way (or until it starts raining). Given that marches based on exclusion are nearly always prohibited on the mainland (when was the last time a National Front was approved) what makes these supposedly loyal British expect to be treated any better. Tradtional routes, my arse. Traditional roots, more like! And relax.
keresaspa: (Cheesey with big moustache)
I hadn't intended to come out here today but there was something that had to be done and it preyed on my mind a bit last night so I had to get down and do it. Nothing major or nothing for you to worry about, dear reader, merely some work-related annoyance that couldn't be allowed to lie until Monday. Most annoying as I'm now hemmed in here for a while until the school children go away and allow me to get on the bus to Sainsburys. If there's one thing I really can't abide (and God knows there are plenty) it's being on a bus with a gaggle of schoolies. Things as simple as turning corners are treated like concepts so exciting and so alien to them that you get the feeling they've just beamed in from Zeta Rectuli or something. I can honestly say, hand on heart, I was never like them. I was as grim then as I am today. Added to that is the fact that just down the road from me was apparently a hive of rioting last night. Should be fun heading out for a few jars tonight, but such is life. You don't live 25 years in Belfast and expect to avoid all riots. Surprise, surprise, apparently it all stemmed from flags again, only this time it was loyalists getting pissed off at GAA flags in a republican district. That's rich coming from the people who fly about ten flags from every house in July and festoon their streets with bunting to boot. Less is more, folks. Of course the real reason is the usual one, boredom, but they always need to come up with an excuse to cover it. I've a heard a cop shop took a bit of a hammering. I'll be crying over that, I don't think!
keresaspa: (Percy)
As is the usual I took a walk down Rugby Avenue (a long street that links the Ormeau Road to the Uni) on my way here. Bloody hell, the place was like a bombsite (which I say from experience, compadres). Everywhere I walked there were shards of broken glass from where bottles of booze had been tossed by culchie morons. Odd thing is that when I was a kid I used to live in that street. We eventually cleared out as it was becoming too mad with students moving in but compared to now it was a bloody picnic. For those who wonder why I never bother with St Patricks Day this is the reason. Idiotic hicks who can't get drunk like civilized human beings and who know that this place will do sod all to them no matter what they do as it will mean another fee-payer out. That fee-paying legislation just keeps on giving.

In the end I had my usual quiet St Patricks Day. To me it was just another bank holiday (and we all know how much I love them!) and was wasted watching rubbish telly. I'll save my proper wastage for this evening where a skinful of pints await, with a bottle of Buckfast heating up nicely for afters. Mmmm, good stuff. At least something will take my mind of Charles Clarke and how he's just the spit out of Blunkett's mouth. Bloody lice! Well, off I go to pick up me fegs. Toodles.
keresaspa: (Default)
Had a boozy one over the weekend, being full Thursday and Friday. Paid for it now mind you as my left knee is giving me some serious jip. Not half the man I used to be. This week looks to be a fairly hectic one as the honcho needs to see me (yet again) and the unwanted intrusion of Saint Patricks Day will cost me a valuable day. I've never been one for that day. All the faux patriotism sits uneasily with me, the constant political rows by bored has-been politicians about marches and money for them are a pain and the fact that every bar is full to busting with morons from Dungannon and Tempo for whom a crap in a public toilet is a culture shock makes going out a pointless exercise. Even the annual riot in University Street, which used to have a spontaneous feeling to it, is now as scripted as a wrestling match and is about as much a blow against the system as a Conservative Party conference. Reckon I'll just lock the door and do sod all as it really isn't worth the effort. Plus we all know how intolerant I am of bank holidays. Upshot of which is that tattoo number four will most likely have to wait another week at least. I can see no likely window of opportunity for it so old lefty is going to have to remain bare a while longer. C'est la geurre.

Finally FA Cup semi-final draw for those who have missed it and care:
Arsenal v Blackburn Rovers
Newcastle v Manchester United
Tip for the final? Pretty obvious really, with the Red Satans doing it 3-1 as the Arse just cant beat them anymore.
keresaspa: (Finlayson)
Is it just me or has the lay-out changed for posting journal entries. Like the good conservative that I am change is an anathema to me. Scary biscuits in fact. Eek!

Things are back in full swing here at uni as it's standing room only in the computer rooms as frantic sengas run around trying to find somewhere to talk as loudly as possible to their Dungannon chums. Obviously a computer room is the optimum place to do so.

Add to that it is party conference season and we are inundated with a squad of populists who have long since abandoned any semblance of ideology or principle and are try to dress up no policies in as inflammatory and vote-grabbing a way as possible. New Labour's domestic policy seems to be dragging years out of fox-hunting (in fairness a very minor issue, wherever you stand on the subject) and the rest of them seen as bereft of ideas. All three of them are disappointingly (or should that be predictably) pedestrian and have nothing of substance to offer. The next election looks set to be the election fought over nothing where the three parties just attack each other for something to do.


Sep. 9th, 2004 03:43 pm
keresaspa: (Fidel Castro)
Today is the first day of the open days here when all the bambinos come from schools and run riot. Fortunately today seems to be mature students day and they are all able to conduct themselves with dignity and repose but tomorrow will be 17 year olds day and will be bloody bedlam so I'll not be around. It was good craic when I came here for it as a sprat but as a grizzled veteran trying to work I now find them unbearably annoying. Hypocrite to the end.

Now this has to be a piss-take! Can people really be that hard up for something to check on the old intraweb that they make the BNP the number one site! OK, I suppose I've helped put it there but I have an excuse for needing to check it all the time as they're my research topic. Like I said earlier- hypocrite to the end.

I'll say a welcome to newest addition to the madhouse [ profile] sugerpill and bid you all adieu.
keresaspa: (Seagull)
The culchie kiddies are out in force. This place is agog with all the nerks fresh out of school thinking they're big people now. The sort who will say "are you going down the street?" to mean going into town as they are used to life in incestuous hamlets in Fermanagh. Result is that there is a hell of a lot of faffing around being done whilst old lags like me try to remain our usual unruffled selves. Tobacco always helps, of course.
keresaspa: (Percy)
For me the Euros are over. Latvia, Spain and Italy all out in a few traumatic days. I'll watch the rest as a neutral/non-England.

Witnessed a funny sight yesterday as I was getting on the bus home. There were two old men (both around 70 or so) in front of me dithering when one stepped in front of the other and got on the bus. "Here, where do you, think you're going, queue jumper?" demanded the one who had been left behind, prodding the other oldster in the back with his finger. The two had a bit of row then the one who had jumped muttered something insulting under his breath. Before I knew it the pair of them were at it trading arthritic punches in the middle of the bus. A ridiculous and hilarious sight. In the end I (being the only other non-child male on the bus) was forced to step in and separate them or else the bus would never leave. The pair were like naughty schoolboys with me all "he jumped the queue", "I did not and he started it", "did you hear what he said to me" etc. One of them even ended up getting off at a very early stop, probably afraid of another pasting. Classic stuff. I've heard of juvenile delinquents, but geriatric ones?! One for the scrap book
keresaspa: (Default)
If it's Monday it should be rant time but actually I dont feel annoyed about anything. Even the weekly Saturday riots are not bothering me. Equilibrium is the word for today.


keresaspa: (Default)

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