Unless you’re the Dalai bloomin’ Lama, the older you get the more things you will find that annoy you.
Even old Dal-boy must have a few gripes if he looks deep within himself.
I’ve got more than a few gripes, in fact my gripe-vine is growing.
My family think I’m a grumpy old git, but as my parents reminded my wife during a recent holiday in Aberfeldy, I’ve been a grumpy old git since I was a teenager.
I talked to someone recently who said he was inspired by anger he felt for the injustices going on in the world around him.
Well I only seem to become animated by the things that tick me off. So let’s begin ticking them off:
Stinking smokers puffing away in the street because they’ve been banned from doing it indoors – after fires people receive treatment for involuntary smoke inhalation, did you know that?
Spitting gets my goat every time a gob of grog hits the pavement – do it again mate and I’ll follow you home and rub my runny nose on your living room rug.
Smashed bottles lying around the ground like little razor sharp land mines ready to puncture my poor Pug’s paws or lacerate a wee lad’s knee.
People who can only communicate with you by talking about football – “Eh, awright mate whit team do ye support?”. The Chicago Bears – work out what religion I am from that response pal, I dare you.
Wee women – or men, I’m not sexist – driving great big cars in small, built up areas. Take your urban assault vehicle up to Aviemore and don’t take up three parking spaces here.
Most of all I hate people who complain about every little thing under the sun.
They’re the worst.