Comments on: Iâ€™m as mad as hell and Iâ€™m not gonna take it anymore

By: Wrinkly Joe Jnr

Wrinkly Joe Jnr — Sat, 24 Mar 2007 17:51:46 +0000

Being a poor soul who works in the retail sector, I regularly witness such events. The girl who’ll stand in the queue with a single item for which she knows the exact price, for a good 10 minutes and wait untill the very last second to wrestle her purse from the depths of a bottomless handbag while the rest of the line looks on in horror.
Having said that though, we’re no fucking treat to deal with either. “15cent for a BAG! You should be ashamed of yourself!” Yes, how dare I try and relieve you of your hard earned 15cents. It’s not a government imposed tax or anything, I’m actually hoarding it all in a savings account. Eventually I’ll have enough to purchase a club to hit you with…

By: Spittin Bile

Spittin Bile — Sat, 24 Mar 2007 15:06:15 +0000

And theres the hideous fat bitch who stands in front of the Quick Lodge machine in the AIB on the Ennis Road every Friday afternoon shoving cash into a multitude of envelopes while the queue for the quick lodge stretches down past the Gaelic Grounds. Bad cess to the ol bint.

By: Anonymous

Anonymous — Sat, 24 Mar 2007 10:39:30 +0000

Right so, weÃ¢â‚¬â„¢re getting slightly misogynistic, and IÃ¢â‚¬â„¢m ready Bock, oh IÃ¢â‚¬â„¢m so ready. You didnÃ¢â‚¬â„¢t mention the pony-tailed, pink cushioned, playboy stamped golf, or micra, which appears behind you on the motorway, and starts to buzz incessantly, until you comply by driving into the only available space occupied by a big fuck-off truck or a brick wall. ThatÃ¢â‚¬â„¢s a more recent kind of sexual discrimination. WeÃ¢â‚¬â„¢re just not on the same agenda, never have been, and itÃ¢â‚¬â„¢s getting to the stage where they do what they fucking want and devil take the hindmost. We love Ã¢â‚¬Ëœem, we do, just like your mate who took his girlfriend to the French match on the train, cause he luved her for herself. And because we luvs them so much we put up with their bullshit, but then you get to an age when you start to prioritize the blood supply to your brain over (the supply to) your penis, and of course thereÃ¢â‚¬â„¢s only so much blood, and it canÃ¢â‚¬â„¢t run both organs simultaneously (thanks for that one Robin Williams). Anyway, you get to a place where you say fuck Ã¢â‚¬Ëœem and itÃ¢â‚¬â„¢s just not worth it anymore, so go fuck off and figure out yourself why IÃ¢â‚¬â„¢m mad.

The ATM thing is head wrecking, why two or three cards? Are they getting money for their friends, is it their turn now? Why do they wait for the slip, and then stop again and check to see that the money they just double counted, twice, and placed carefully into their cavernous handbag, is the same as on the slip of paper.

Bock apologies for using your blog for the rant but IÃ¢â‚¬â„¢m experiencing technical difficulties getting started with my own.

Mikell for Sniffle&Cry

By: Eddie Waring

Eddie Waring — Sat, 24 Mar 2007 10:38:27 +0000

In Guatemala they have government sponsored death squads roaming the streets to shoot fuckers like that on sight. I believe they feed the victims to the poor.
That’s what i call an efficient society!

By: savannah

savannah — Sat, 24 Mar 2007 10:38:14 +0000

this is not a good sign…EVERYONE is fucking pissed off already..and it’s just barely the weekend! dammit

By: tadhg seamus

tadhg seamus — Sat, 24 Mar 2007 10:38:04 +0000

Good God, man! You too? I thought I was bearing the burden alone for the rest of you. I always get stuck behind these evil fuckers. I think they belong to some kind of underground club or association or something, because their behaviour is eerily similar. Two weeks ago, at the Dunnes in Ennis, I was behind a woman who must've won the grand master club trophy of all fucking time. She was a clever one, playing a diabolical variation on the theme: After Natasha tallied up a heaping trolley full of shit, she announced the total ("Dot vill be being 2 hunnert tree euro") at which point, our intrepid shopper asked Natasha to subtract four items, as she only had 190 euro, and, hmmmm, which items should be set aside. Hmmmmmm.

One of my children celebrated a birthday while we waited. Given the teeth grinding going on among the four people behind me, it would have been no problem at all getting a crucifixion party together, it being Lent and all. Instead, I abandoned the trolley and took the lad to Brogan's for a pint. He was old enough now.

I feel yer pain, brother Bock.

By: tadhg seamus

tadhg seamus — Sat, 24 Mar 2007 10:37:34 +0000

Oh! I nearly forgot! I’m visiting friends in the States. The evil cabal must’ve gone international because it happens over here as much as it does at home in Ireland. More, maybe. Matter of fact, this might be the International Headquarters, so don’t think a nice visit to, say, Chicago, will give you respite. Only difference is, here, I understand, in many places it’s legal to carry guns (those zany Americans!), so at least you’re a bit more likely to get the satisfaction of seeing one of these bastards gunned down…

By: Primal Sneeze

Primal Sneeze — Sat, 24 Mar 2007 10:37:11 +0000

I feel your pain, Bock. I call it Trolley Rage.

By: Conor

Conor — Sat, 24 Mar 2007 10:36:58 +0000

Let’s not forget the fuckers who wait until everything is done and then ask “do you take cheques?”. Should result in being put up against the wall in the supermarket and being shot on the spot.

By: D. C. Warmington

D. C. Warmington — Fri, 23 Mar 2007 22:12:52 +0000

Hate to top your checkout story (he lied), but I was doing the Xmas shop behind a couple with 2 trolleys, each groaning with buckled wheels under the weight of chav-fodder. Total: over Ã‚Â£250. Meanwhile my frozen stuff was melting on the conveyor belt. "At last", I thought, "they're done!"

"Oh," says the woman, "I nearly forgot. I have coupons."

From her handbag she brings a wad of those money-off things you see in women's magazines at the dentist's. 15p off your next purchase of Bisto gravy powder; 25p off cat suppositories; 1p off your inheritance tax bill if you die before 3 p.m. today, that kind of thing. Each one has a message to the retailer, an expiry date, terms and conditions, all in 5 point type, in pale grey on a grey background.

The checkout girl starts squinting at them. "Did you buy Campbell's soup?" she says. "Cock-a-Leekie?"

"O yes," says the woman, and starts searching through the bags for it.

"It'll be on the receipt," I say. I am ignored, as usual.

"Where is it now, Norman? Did you pack the Cock-a-Leekie?"

At that point something just goes, inside my head. "Excuse me," I say, squeezing past, barely noticed, and head for the car park.

I understand very well now those WW1 soldiers who just "walked away from the guns".