Organised stupidity
A friend of mine has a house with a garden behind it. At the bottom of his garden is a fence. Beyond this is a kind of lush green no-mans land of overgrown thicket, bramble, fox-shit and numberless footballs, tennis balls, Frisbees and shuttlecocks that his kids have kicked, thrown and generally twatted over that fence. Then another fence and then an alleyway before more houses, streets and so on start. So, Houses, gardens, ribbon of fence, ribbon of green inhabited by overgrown undergrowth, abandoned athletic equipment and probably the occasional cat corpse, next ribbon of fence, alleyway and so on.
The fence between the green space and the alley is useful. It provides much-needed security, basically it’s an anti-scally measure and means that the sort of people who use alleys have to scale it if they want to gain access to the Lost World, allowing them the opportunity to sidle up to my mate’s garden fence and, oh, I don’t know, touch themselves while watching him barbeque, or poke their winkies through a knot-hole and pee on his hardy perennials.
So my mate was quite surprised to see council workmen removing this perfectly good fence. So much so he asked them what the fucking fuck they fucking thought they were fucking doing.
The workmen did not a) speak Tourettes or b) know, so my mate was directed to the council offices. There, some poor drone really earned their council-tax funded wage, as he wrung out of them that it was being removed to ‘increase security’.
This did not go down well. But he was powerless to reverse the decision, trapped in a web of fuck-wittery like a foul-mouthed Kafka character.
The punchline comes a month later when, it being council election time, a fuckwit councillor rings his doorbell and asks if she can rely on his vote. Apparently he made Paxman look like Parkie as he grilled her on the doorstep about the fence and enquired if the missing panels had been put to use anywhere else, like her back garden?
‘Of course not!’ Came the reply,
‘Pity, there was graffiti on one that said ‘cunt’. Good day.’
SLAM
‘And I’m voting bloody green!’
The fence between the green space and the alley is useful. It provides much-needed security, basically it’s an anti-scally measure and means that the sort of people who use alleys have to scale it if they want to gain access to the Lost World, allowing them the opportunity to sidle up to my mate’s garden fence and, oh, I don’t know, touch themselves while watching him barbeque, or poke their winkies through a knot-hole and pee on his hardy perennials.
So my mate was quite surprised to see council workmen removing this perfectly good fence. So much so he asked them what the fucking fuck they fucking thought they were fucking doing.
The workmen did not a) speak Tourettes or b) know, so my mate was directed to the council offices. There, some poor drone really earned their council-tax funded wage, as he wrung out of them that it was being removed to ‘increase security’.
This did not go down well. But he was powerless to reverse the decision, trapped in a web of fuck-wittery like a foul-mouthed Kafka character.
The punchline comes a month later when, it being council election time, a fuckwit councillor rings his doorbell and asks if she can rely on his vote. Apparently he made Paxman look like Parkie as he grilled her on the doorstep about the fence and enquired if the missing panels had been put to use anywhere else, like her back garden?
‘Of course not!’ Came the reply,
‘Pity, there was graffiti on one that said ‘cunt’. Good day.’
SLAM
‘And I’m voting bloody green!’
Labels: Councillors, Councils, Local Authorities, Red Tape, Stupidity
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