Grumpy Muses


The following thoughts reflect the webmasters own particular brand of humour and are personal thoughts and comments on everyday topics. Most have been published previously on a number of forums, and whilst I do not mean to upset or offend, some people might find my views somewhat extreme.

"Stop telling me what to do! I was born free, I remain free, and bloody well intend dying a free man".


The Senility Prayer:

Please grant me the senility to forget the people I never liked anyway, the good fortune to run into the ones I do, and the eyesight to allow me to tell the difference.

Being British once filled me with Pride.

During the 2nd World War, the British had stood firm against a vicious dictatorship and won. We then went on to establish a welfare state providing free Medical treatment for all which was envied throughout the World. We were a leading financial and technological power, we had a major car industry, an aerospace industry, with Concorde ruling the skies, had major manufacturing industries, and our film industry was renowned throughout the world. With our schools and universities regarded as amongst the world's best, those with ability were free to develop their full potential, and, almost uniquely amongst former colonial powers, we had a Commonwealth of countries that were actually proud to be members. We trusted our police and the legal system; we believed that hard work at school would lead to a good job and a happy life. We had respect for our politicians, we were proud of our armed forces, the Royal family were held in a deep affection by the British people, and you could walk the streets at night without fear of being attacked.

Those were indeed Happy Days!

You have achieved old age when you realise that your memory's not as sharp as it used to be. Also, you have had a couple of bypass operations, had both hips replaced, successfully fought prostate cancer, and contracted diabetes. You are probably half blind, can't hear anything quieter than a jet engine, take 27 different medications that make you dizzy, winded, and subject to blackouts. You have increasing bouts of dementia, poor circulation meaning you can hardly feel your hands and feet, and cannot remember if you are aged 85 or 92.

Your friends may have all passed on, but, thank God, You still have your driver's license.

British Government to Save the Planet

Amongst the many policy announcements originating from the 'Rear Orifice of ZanNuLabour and its pack of Raving Scottish Gerbils', and which has no chance of ever becoming reality this side of 'never never land', was one that stated that it was the intention of the British Government to reduce UK carbon emissions by 80%.

Now this really leaves me awestruck as I contemplate the fact that these 'Brain Dead Retards appear to be under the impression that reducing the United Kingdoms current 2.2% of total World Carbon Dioxide emissions by 80 percent will make a great impact in the fight to prevent catastrophe, or whatever else the prophets of doom are currently spouting.

They would be far better served in trying to do something to prevent the destruction of all the vital rain forests on which are atmosphere depends, or is that to obvious for these retards.

An Elderly English gentleman of 83 arrived in Paris by plane.

At the French immigration desk, the man took a few minutes to locate his passport in his carry-on bag.
"You have been to France before, Monsieur?" the Immigration officer asked, sarcastically.
The elderly gentleman admitted he had been to France previously.
"Then you should know well enough to have your passport ready."
The English gentleman says, "The last time I was here, I didn't have to show it."
"Impossible. All Englishmen have to show their passports on arrival in France!"
The elderly gentleman gave the French Immigration Officer a long hard look.
Then he quietly explained.
"Well, the last time I was here was on D-Day in June 1944, and I couldn't find any bloody Frenchmen to show it to when I came ashore."

Revenge of the Retards

I am feeling particularly irritated today having been an victim of what appears to have been a revenge attack from those 'walking medical abortions' I had occasion to have a go at the other week in the Square.

Upon leaving my home and going to place my dogs in the car preparatory to taking our morning constitutional, I discovered that some mental retard had not only 'keyed' my beloved Volvo, but had then proceeded to walk all over it leaving the roof and bonnet seriously dented..

Okay, so I realise it is my fault for parking the car in the road instead of behind locked doors, but I was under the mistaken impression that we lived in a crime free area, and where the biggest danger was from the local village idiot. He is, incidentally, a completely harmless character, prone to the occasional bouts of foaming at the mouth, and ranting at all and sundry about the state of the country, and answers to the name of David.

Wandering along the road, and using some less than clean language, I found that my car was one of four given the same treatment. In fact the scratches are identical on each car only varying slightly depending on the shape of the side panels. I am not sure whether I feel better of worse for not being singled out. Being the only one would worry me that I was being targeted for some reason; on the other hand being one of several might be the start of an epidemic.

Trying to contact the police to report the incident proved to be a re-run of the other week when I tried to contact the nearest Police Station with regard to the eleven 'failed medical experiments' causing problems in the Square. Again my call went unanswered, and, not being conversant with the previously mentioned use of either, smoke signals, carrier pigeon or Ouija board, I decided to notify my MP at the lack of Police availability in Witheridge.

Now that proved an even bigger joke; there was me expecting my MP, a decent enough chap considering his occupation, to take immediate action in calling for a ban on all 'keys' or at least any that were not made of a soft malleable plastic. Or that any person caught in possession of a 'key' would be immediately locked up or 'transported' to some inhospitable outback in the remotest part of the World where cars are unknown and the only transport was by Yak (try scratching one of those). But I’m not an MP so that is just wishful thinking; the reality was that he said it did not fall within his jurisdiction, but he would write to the local police and get them to contact me.

So all in all a thoroughly useless day, total lack of co-operation from the authorities, another reason to declare war on these 'medical retards' and further evidence that the blight is now spreading even into the countryside. That conniving Scottish Bustard McBrown has certainly got a lot to answer for.

I am sure readers of this website have suffered much more in the way of mindless vandalism but it does make me feel better getting it of my chest and down in words

Kids today have it Easy!

When I was a child, adults used to bore me to tears with their tedious diatribes about how hard things were when they were young; what with walking Twenty-five miles to school every morning, all uphill and barefoot, and that was Both ways, and I can remember promising myself that when I grew up, there was no way in hell I was going to lay a bunch of crap like that on kids about how hard I had it And how easy they've got it!

However, now that I am approaching my allotted span, I cannot help but look around and notice the youth of today. You've got it so easy! I mean, compared to when I was young you live in a damn Utopia! And I have to say it, but you kids today you don't know how good you've got it!

I mean, when I was a kid we didn't have The Internet. If we wanted to know something, we had to go to the damn library and look it up ourselves, in the card catalogue!! There was no email!! We had to actually write somebody a letter, with a pen! Then you had to walk all the way across the street and put it in the mailbox and it would take like a week to get there!

If you were on the phone and somebody else called they got a busy signal, that's it! And we didn't have fancy Caller ID either! When the phone rang, you had no idea who it was! It could be your school, your mum, your boss, your Bookie, your drug dealer, a collections agent, you just didn't know!!! You had to pick it up and take your chances, mister!

We didn't have any fancy Sony Playstation video games with high-resolution 3-D graphics! We had the Atari 2600 with such games as 'Space Invaders' and 'Asteroids'. Your guy was a little square! You actually had to use your Imagination!! And there were no multiple levels or screens; it was just one screen forever! And you could never win. The game just kept getting harder and harder and faster and faster until you died! Just like LIFE!

You had to use a little book called a TV Guide to find out what was on! You were screwed when it came to channel surfing! You had to get off your backside and walk over to the TV to change the Channel and there was no Cartoon Network either! You could only get cartoons On Saturday Morning. Do you hear what I'm saying!?! We had to wait ALL WEEK For cartoons, you spoiled little medical abortions!

And we didn't have microwaves, if we wanted to heat something up we had to use the stove ... Imagine that!

That's exactly what I'm talking about! You kids today have got it too easy. You're spoiled. You guys wouldn't have lasted Five minutes back in 1980!

Recently the Local Government Association admitted that millions of tons of rubbish carefully sorted into recycling bins by householders may never actually be recycled. Many of the council bosses who impose compulsory recycling regimes on their residents have no idea what happens to the refuse after the dustcarts have collected it: they simply hand it over to contractors who never reveal where it goes and how it is disposed of.

This admission confirms the longstanding suspicions of many critics who have opposed the spread of fortnightly rubbish collections in the name of enforcing recycling and saving the environment. Whilst saving the Environment is an admirable aim, and is one that I actively support, there is a growing tendency to use the expression 'saving the environment' as an excuse for just about anything.

I was forced to smile when I overheard a conversation between a shop assistant and a little old lady. The checkout lady was explaining to the customer, a rosy-cheeked old country woman that in future she would have to pay for her plastic bags. “We're trying to save the environment," she explained.

And the customer's immediate, and down-to-earth response as she gathered up her shopping, was to look around at the queue behind her, sniff, and reply:

"Sod the bloody environment!"



The ever rising death toll of British troops serving in Afghanistan only serves to emphasis the way in which our brave Civil servants, eager to do the bidding of their Scottish Political Masters, and with no protests from a Ministry of Defence stuffed to the rafters with Colonel Blimps sitting in their nice warn offices, and showing the effects of too many Pink Gins, have betrayed our Armed Forces fighting in Afghanistan.

Originally sent out without adequate equipment levels, the list has now grown to include at different times a lack of ammunition, a shortage of weapons, to few helicopters to support the troops in the field, and a shortage of spares to keep their Apache helicopters flying. Given the amount this country spends on defence spending it defies belief how little actually appears to reach the front line. It has never been that much different though, British Fighting troops have always appeared to have gone to war poorly equipped, and whilst it may have been slightly different in the days when we fought tribesmen, little seems to have changed since.

And precisely why we are fighting a senseless war in Afghanistan anyway? The often stated reason is to prevent the spread of terrorism throughout the world. All that will be achieved will be to spread the problem to other countries and to increase tension between the Western World and the Islamic or Muslim Nations of the World.

So who is actually the bloody terrorist in all this, them or us? And when it is all done and dusted, and when the weary foot soldiers finally return home, what then: we will be billions out of pocket, hated further by those we supposedly went to protect, and the native population will simply return to their ancient tribal rivalry.

What a complete and utter waste of time, money and lives. Why don’t we simply buy all the Opium that is produced in Afghanistan, it would give the indigenous population a guaranteed income, and would be a bloody sight cheaper than fighting a war. We could then re-deploy all our own troops to defend our borders against this rampant immigration.



In the year 2009 the Lord came unto Noah, who was now living in England and said, "Once again, the earth has become wicked and over-populated, and I see the end of all flesh before me. Build another Ark and save two of every living thing along with a few good humans." And he gave unto Noah the CAD drawings, saying, "You have 6 months to build the Ark before I will start the unending rain for 40 days and 40 nights."

Six months later, the Lord looked down and saw Noah weeping in his yard-but no Ark. "Noah!" He roared, "I'm about to start the rain! Where is the Ark ?" "Forgive me, Lord," begged Noah, "but things have changed. I found that I needed Building Regulations Approval and I've been arguing with the Fire Brigade about the need for a sprinkler system. Then my neighbours claimed that I should have obtained planning permission for building the Ark in my garden because it is further development of the site, even though in my view it is a temporary structure. We had to then go to appeal to the Secretary of State for a decision.

Then the Department of Transport demanded a bond be posted for the future costs of moving power lines and other overhead obstructions to clear the passage for the Ark's move to the sea. I told them that the Ark would not need to be moved since the sea would be coming to us, but they would hear nothing of it.

Getting the wood was another problem. All the decent trees have Tree Preservation Orders on them and we live in a Site of Special Scientific Interest set up in order to protect the spotted owl. I tried to convince the environmentalists that I needed the wood to save the owls - but again no go!

When I started gathering the animals, the RSPCA sued me. They insisted that I was confining wild animals against their will. They argued the accommodation was too restrictive, and it was cruel and inhumane to put so many animals in a confined space.

Then the County Council, the Environment Agency and the Rivers Authority ruled that I couldn't build the Ark until they'd conducted an environmental impact study on your proposed flood. I'm still trying to resolve a complaint with the Equal Opportunities Commission on how many disabled carpenter's I'm supposed to hire for my building team, and the trades unions say I cannot use my sons. They insist I have to hire only accredited workers with Ark-building experience.

To make matters worse, Customs and Excise seized all my assets, claiming I'm trying to leave the country illegally with endangered species. So, forgive me, Lord, but it would take at least 10 years for me to finish this Ark."

Suddenly the skies cleared, the sun began to shine, and a rainbow stretched across the sky.

Noah looked up in wonder and asked, "You mean you're not going to destroy the world?"

"No," said the Lord. "It seems that the British government has already beaten me to it!"......


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Last Edited 09/02/2010    Copyright © 2000-2010 Witheridge

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