Impotent Anger

A dumped fridge down a country lane and the ‘someone else’ll clear it up’ mentality that comes with it.

A dumped ‘meal’ – a bottle of some fizzy crap, a fast-food bag and the cartons it contained, strewn along a road side – and the moron who’d thrown it there.

Some woman in a new Porsche, having to wait a handful of seconds for me to pass then pulling out of the driveway of her very expensive house and overtaking with all the noise and pointless acceleration that you’d expect from someone who looked to have veins coursing with piss and vinegar, someone who looked precisely as you’d expect of the ‘successful’ in this vulgar money-driven excuse for a culture we live in.

Wasted public money. Local councils paying sub-contractors to fix pot-holes; the majority of the pot-holes being previously ‘mended’ ones; sub-contractors doing a visibly poor job; (presumably) no-one from the council inspecting the work; sub-contractors having a job for life, mending their own lousy work; councils talking incessantly about ‘the cuts’ and the ‘front line’ services that are going to suffer whilst they waste money time and time and time again; council management being paid way too much for the miserable service they deliver.

A dead hedgehog, reminding me of the news that they’re heading for extinction in Britain.

Public apologies by public figures for the inexcusable, as an alternative to taking responsibility, as if saying sorry means anything when it’s being said by people who are visibly going through the motions – doing what they have to do to keep their jobs however miserable their performance.

The noise of tractors, distant traffic, nearby traffic, nearby aircraft and distant aircraft making it all too obvious that being out in the country around here has nothing to do with peace and quiet.

Being taken for an idiot by morality-free politicians talking of ‘reviews’ in response to last week’s riots, as they presume we’re so dumb that we’ll be mollified or even impressed with their vacuous words and inconsequential deeds.

I dislike being pointlessly angry and I dislike moaning. If you’re angry about something, if you have something to moan about, then actions need to result. I dislike even more the feeling that there are no actions open to me.