Skip to main content

Spies are everywhere

Cracking stuff from Ormskirk residents recently. You see, we have this new wheelie bin regime in place in tandem with recycling boxes, as West Lancs district council finally drags its arse into the exciting world of responsible recycling. This in itself caused widespread local outrage as an infringement of our rights to create a frankly terrifying amount of waste. But this was as nothing compared to the shitstorm when it emerged that each bin has (wait for it) a microchip in it.

It's big Brother gone mad! cried the population en masse, ignoring the fact that the chip is in essence an identification device in favour of the much more entertaining idea that these chips are in fact highly sophisticated listening devices. The "OUr bins are bugged" controversy runs on in the letters page of the Advertiser (this morning's being particularly rich - hence the post)in defiance of the fact that a) why the hell would the council want to listen to your bins anyway? b)do you have any idea how much that would cost? and c? it's patently untrue.

Never ones to let sense or logic get in the way of a good froth of righteous indignation the dread phrase "waste of taxpayers money" (What waste? What money? What on earth are you talking about?) has been bandied about a great deal. Some even opine , confusingly that it is "politcal correctness gone mad", somehow.

I've said it before and I'll say it again. People are idiots. And that specifically means you Mr W David Ashcroft of Scarisbrick Avenue, you absolute menk.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Creepy old men

I note, somewhat wearily, that creepy old men are back in the news, being creepy. Creepy old men, and their apologists and enablers, who argue that their creepiness is somehow the natural order of things. Old men would have you believe that it is difficult to not be a creepy old man. That it is a task of epic proportions. It is not that difficult. It is a matter of intention. As yet more of the grimness of Epstein unfolds, creepy old men are, sadly, a flaccid topic once again. Whether it be pursuing students thirty years their junior, or simply not asking too many questions about the background of the probably legal young woman who you've just been introduced to by your good pal Jeff. To be clear, I am not referring to criminal creepy old men, the ones who actually committed statutory rape, the ones who fucked trafficked hirls. That is not something which is allowed to get away merely with the contempt of the observer.  That deserves prison.  No , I'm referring to the hinterla...

Inedible

"He says it's inedible" said my front of house manager, as she laid the half-eaten fish and chips in front of me, and instantly I relaxed.  Clearly, I observed, it was edible to some degree. I comped it, because I can't be arsed arguing the toss, and I want to make my front of house's lives as simple as possible. The haddock had been delivered that morning. The fryers had been cleaned that morning. The batter had been made that morning (and it's very good batter, ask me nicely and I'll give you the recipe some time). The fish and chips was identical to the other 27 portions I'd sent out on that lunch service, all of which had come back more or less hoovered up, we have have a (justified, if I do say so myself) very good reputation for our chips. But it was, apparently, "inedible". When it comes to complaints, less is more. If you use a hyperbolic word like that, I'll switch off, you've marked yourself as a rube, a chump, I'm not g...

The daftest complaint I ever had

I have written here several times down the years about customer complaints, both justified and idiotic. Working in hospitality they are an ineivitability. No matter how good you are, how consistent, you will get complaints. Very few of them stick in the memory, but some, by virtue of their extreme idiocy, do. And one popped into my mind as I was plating up a dish this lunchtime, and I thought, why not, it's as good a thing to write a blog about as any. It's also an entertaining example of how events can play out in ways you may not expect at the time. It sticks in the mind as it combined stupidity with a petty malice and venality which leaves me with no qualms about taking the piss out of it publicly. I rarely let bad reviews lie, if I feel they're unfair I might demur, if I feel they're reasonable I'll make a point of apologising. If they're stupid I'll take pleasure in replying very politely. This one got ignored. It happened on a Sunday, which is another ...