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One cunt born every minute…

Yesterday afternoon I took my new(ish) Flymo Sabre hedge-hacker for a trip out. It is a beast. I really quite like it. I did the hedges in “my garden”*. Given the weather over the summer this was a big job but with my vicious new toy I decided to also trim a seriously over-grown footpath just by he house that is arguably either our, the local church or the council’s remit (and the council are about as much use as a chocolate teapot – they paint around pot-holes in the road and then do nothing – at one point four of the blighters drove all the way from Macclesfield to ring in paint one pothole and then did a Keyser Söze). The hacking needed to be done anyway and I had the means so I gave it the sort of haircut only the USMC gives to recruits. It was becoming a tunnel if you see what I mean. So, I ask my wife about the whole trimming thing both there and on our gaff because I want a second opinion (a bit much there, perhaps more needed here, you know the sort of thing). I mean it’s tricky to assay when stuff is going everywhere.

So I’m in my garden talking to her when some prod-nosed cunt mooches around and starts telling me off for what I had left on the footpath. And you know what? The fucker comes onto private property (not mine but as warden obviously It’s kinda my domain and it certainly isn’t his) and starts gobbing it off about the mess I have created. Now he doesn’t accuse me directly of this sin but says, “someone did it”. That raised my hackles. If someone is prepared to come onto the gaff I look after and give me evils without directly stating it they are a cunt so low they leave snail-tracks everywhere they creep on their raggedy claws in my book.

Now if I’d done this on Thursday and left it overnight fair enough from him. I had though done this about thirty minutes before and then did the rest of the lane (the council grit box was looking like the lost temples of Ankor Wat) and I had taken the idea to do the cutting first and then the clearing as the most efficient way of doing the job. This numpty arse-bugler who mistakes rabbit tods for aniseed balls simply didn’t think that certain jobs take time (not a lot of time as I hinted). But I didn’t do it Thursday. I did it half an hour before and had other cutting to do before the picking-up the total gap between me doing the path and picking-up was under an hour). He never even guessed that I’d clear-up which (with my wife) I always knew I was going to do. He just assumed. Possibly he had decided to write an outraged letter to the Daily Mail.

Subsequently my wife and I tidied (as always planned) the path. This was actually a priority because I know a lot of dog-walkers use it and a load of holly and nettles is not good for paws. Oddly enough whilst doing that a couple of dog-walkers ambled past and praised my work. It was terribly overgrown due to our tropical summer. So much improved in under an hour. Maybe if I’d worn a high-viz coat and was like “official” or something he’d have been OK but no. After a brief harangue (in my own garden that he had entered without my let) I uttered the only words in the English language that covered my outrage at someone criticizing me (indirectly, recall – that really got my goat, tied it to a post and then buggered it senseless) for doing a good thing.

Dear reader, in the end, I told him to fuck off. And he did fuck off. And so endeth the lesson.

And if he come round again he knows I have a Flymo Sabre and an intemperate disposition towards pigeon-chested abattoir-creepers like himself.

*It’s a big one and I am warden, not owner. Note also we have a stream and he didn’t cross it. There is a bridge but he harangued me from the other side. Wanker. He could have come over but didn’t. If there is a disagreement honour states it ought to be carried out at the range where it could end with agreement and a handshake or alternatively (this is sub-optimal) a shiv under the fifth rib.


  1. Schrodinger's Dog says:


    Always remember: no good deed goes unpunished.


  2. RAB says:

    What a twat! but the world is full of them isn’t it?

    Years ago we had a really beautiful Copper Beech tree in our front garden, but its roots were causing subsidence and the bay window was literally on the point of collapse (we later had to have the entire front of the house taken down and re-built, took six months, but that’s a horror anecdote for another time).

    So we got a couple of mates with chainsaws round and chopped down the tree. When we were half way through the job, a prod nosed John Major bicycling Spinster of a certain age stopped in the road next to us and said…

    I do hope you’ve got permission from the Council to destroy that beautiful tree, or I shall report you…

    Well I’m not one to mince my words either Nick, so I said to her…

    Look Madam, we have a choice here, the tree is undermining the foundations of the house. Either we live in the fuckin tree or we live in the house. Which option do you think is more sensible? And of course we have permission (we didn’t actually) now bugger off!

    We also had the Phantom Hedgecutter of St Andrews on the loose a couple of years ago. Whoever this nutter was used to go out in the middle of the night and cut hedges and trim branches that were overhanging the pavement. He/she never bloody swept up after themselves though! And usually made a piss poor job of it too. Dozens of houses were scalped.

  3. dave ward says:

    The pavement just down the road gets seriously obstructed every summer by overhanging branches/weeds/stinging nettles/brambles, to the extent that it almost becomes necessary to walk in the road. Every year I contact the local council and get the expected excuses – I follow that with a looooong email to the highways dept including plenty of photographic evidence. If they bother to come out at all, it normally means a quick job with strimmers and standard hedgecutters, with the debris being directed into the nearest undergrowth with a petrol blower. Invariably within a few weeks it’s just as bad…

    This week I’d had enough and went down with my Flymo Sabre and other tools and uprooted the stinging nettles and cut back the rest. Now (for the first time in years) you can actually see the pavement edging strips! I was thinking to myself what I would say to any busybody who complained, but amazingly no one did. I spotted a plastic plod walking past on the other side, but he obviously thought better of getting involved.

    I really feel like submitting a bill for my time, but that would lay me wide open for complaints and legal threats. Just what do we pay taxes for?

  4. Bam-Bam says:

    We pay taxes because otherwise we go to jail.

    Our stolen money gets spunked away on all sorts of things, pretty much none of which are soft landscape maintenance or, come winter, gritting.

    Because the public sector are USELESS CUNTS.

  5. Thornavis says:

    A few years ago my Lavender bush in the front garden was starting to encroach on the pavement, which is of a reasonable width so it hadn’t got to the point where it was causing a problem. No one ever complained, quite the contrary I used to get approving comments and requests for cuttings, I can’t really imagine anything more harmless and pleasant in the way of pavement flora than Lavender. The council saw it differently and wrote a snotty letter demanding it be cut back, I replied in a polite but piss taking way which produced a most indignant response full of pompous nonsense about a duty to ensure safety – yeah the number of people being killed and injured in fragrant shrub related incidents is horrendous. They really don’t like it if you refuse to take them seriously and as dave ward has mentioned these same councils can’t even be bothered to cut back plants that really are hazardous but I expect that’s all because of the cuts, most things are it seems.

  6. bloke in spain says:

    Oh well, let’s chip in a pot hole/council experience for variety.
    Scene of the incident: What I call severely South East Kent. Little village off the Dunkerque-Lille road, Departement Nord. Time: Friday evening in the village bar. Bumped into our local mayor – rather tasty mid 40s number, answers to Sophie. Raised the matter of the asphalt missing from a small patch of the road outside chez moi. Farm vehicles probably tore it out & now every time a car hits it during the night the d’bomp disturbs the slumber.
    Cut to 9 am, following Tuesday. Tipper pulls up outside & bloke in back slings out shovel full of asphalt, jumps down, spreads same in hole & levels with shovel back. Truck reverses rear tyre over & back, couple times to tamp. Bloke gets in cab & truck departs. End of.
    You will note the following:
    Lack of spray painted ring.
    Lack of 100 metres, warning cones.
    Lack of temporary traffic lights.
    Lack of diversion of all traffic through village.
    Lack of 5 guys called Maurice in high vis jackets & general song & dance for extended season.
    Lack of three year wait whilst small blemish turns into cavernous crater swallowing entire 18 wheel artics.
    and finally
    Lack of pothole.

    You see. It can be done.

  7. RAB says:

    Just a thought BIS, but why is your handle Bloke in Spain when you actually live in France?

    The misses, bonkers dog and I spent a lovely couple of weeks this summer in Boussais, near Airvault and found the French road system spot on. No potholes, the roads are long and straight, well surfaced and the two lane allowed to overtake, one lane not, then switching was great (all paid for out of the UK’s EU contributions of course ;-) ) but absolutely fine. Coming back off the Ferry at Portsmouth and getting onto the M4 was like roller-skating in a gravel quarry by comparison.

    We haven’t seen a roadsweeper in our neighbourhood for so long the weeds in the gutter are so big the local kids think they’re trees.

  8. John Gibson says:

    OT, but I followed the recipe of the curry you put on here and very tasty it is too.
    John Gibson

  9. NickM says:

    God help us John.

  10. bloke in spain says:

    ‘Bloke in anywhere but the UK’ would be too long. It’s Spain at present but may revert to France soon, looking at how fast things are deteriorating here. Or maybe somewhere else. For a country with low crime & a decent standard of living, Romania’s starting to look tempting.

  11. RAB says:

    I grok you BIS. If you find a place that is even half way acceptable for us semi sane Libertarians, give us a shout, we could be neighbours!

    But where? Boris the Spider has a good piece in the Telegraph today…

    Why in the fuck are they doing this? As Jeffrey Bernard once said of his many wifes marrying him… Why? You can see a train coming at you can’t you?”

    Why have they just wriggled out of one straight-jacket and are now desperate to get into another? Just like us, it’s the Politicians I guess, not the People, who once again are being lied to.

  12. bloke in spain says:

    There’s a strange thing, there, RAB. I speak with quite a few Romanians & Bulgarians.You get the same from them. They like the EU & want the €uro. On the other hand, if you know what a shit Romania is…….
    All the Russians seem to want to do is get out of the place. Like they’ve given up in despair.

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