... but I stopped. Now I'm a dad, and may blog again...

Sunday, December 19, 2010

149: How to steal a car, and how to miss an open goal.

A young man: he thinks he is grown up but his perception of reality is hopelessly out of sorts.   He walks down the street, sauntering in his oversized beanie hat, big black puffer jacket with tiny burnt bomber holes in the sleeves and breast, and gray tracksuit pants tucked inexplicably into his socks.  The neighbourhood street is mildly bustling; Kevin is leaving his flat and heading into town to do some Christmas shopping, young mums bring their kids back from school, and a car sits unminded ambling to keep it ticking after a week of inactivity.  A car?  Keys in the ignition?  Engine running?  I could ignore it; I could take comfort in the fact a neighbour feels safe enough to pop inside and leave his car running an unattended; I could continue happily about my life without being a pathetic little petty criminal shitbag.  But I would but were it not for the fact that I am that afore mentioned sauntering shitbag.  An untended running car – it must be mine!

So what do I do?  Well obviously I jump in the seat, reverse halfway down the street smashing it into a parked car, before being torn out of the seat by the angry owner then running away like a wet kitten.  It’s not my fucking fault is it, the engine was already running; what the fuck do you expect me to do?  It’s like fucking entrapment or something innit, ya prick.  If you don’t want your fucking car nicked don’t leave it running outside your own house, in your own street, for a mere matter of fucking minutes.  I’m like fucking Al de Niro or John Capone or some shit.  I’ll fuck you up and that.  I don’t know; that might be how these broken brain criminal types think.

So I saw someone try and steal a neighbour’s car from outside my flat.  Despite the little scrota running down the street right at me I’m really struggling to remember the description.  I have to get on top of it because I am a witness and had to give my details to the police officer.  If I had thought I could have taken a photo of his face; he ran directly at me staring at me, and then pelted passed and into the depths of the estate.  Even my shitty old phone could have taken a half decent picture and I might have had some value as a witness.  Ignorant twats like that need to be taught a lesson – jumping into a random car that does not belong to you is not the way real people behave.  I blame the parents, etc. Hanging’s not good enough; it’s too kind, etc.

Such bafflingly inconsiderate behaviour is enough to push me past Hitler rightwing, past bin Laden rightwing, even beyond Richard Littlejohn rightwing, and into the realms of your dad rightwing.  Burn the lot of them, chemically castrate the poor, send the sub-workers back down into the hellish catacombs from whence they came, feed the poor ignorant wretches their own swill mixed with oats and saw dust, punish them for their inevitable crimes against decency before they are even past the age of criminal accountability.  Throw them in the pit.  That’ll learn ‘em.

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