In the words of the great 20th Century philosopher Alexei Sayle, don’t people talk some fucking cak?
I have been out today. I don’t get out much these days – work at home, occasionally communicate with other humans non-electronically, but generally have little in the way of social intercourse.
Today I went to
I take my responsibilities here very seriously, which is why the posts are laden with valuable information, steeped in the truth and always written in a charming, clear and friendly way. I do not, however, foist my views on the world. I am sure that there may be a few (a very few) members of the species out there who do not view my writing as the epitome of wisdom, and choose to disregard my advice. That is their choice, I bear no malice. (Twats).
I am afraid to say that most of the people today who were guilty of talking fucking cak were of the younger generation. This excludes the lady this evening who seemed to think that everyone in the railway carriage wanted to know what Tim’s problem was, even when it was perfectly obvious that his biggest problem was that he moved in social circles where people talked fucking cak. Loudly.
I suppose it is inevitable that as I approach the prospect of being stuck in a box and buried (ecologically of course), that I should start to have a jaundiced view of youth. I have managed to put off this symptom of being a crusty old bastard for quite a long while, and in general I find most young people better company than older ones, on a one to one basis, but when they gather together, they seem to have perfected the art of talking fucking cak much better than their elders.
To illustrate the point that I prefer the company of young people, I should tell you about my new friends who have included me in their new email group. Yes, thanks to my having a gmail address made up of just my name with no numbers or special characters, I sometimes get an interesting email intended for someone else. I am now in negotiation to join a rock band as bass player. I suspect the band is in the