Stoopid is as stoopid does: Flying in the face of common-sense and a clue, Hackney’s own swimming pool Stalinistas bring new meaning to the initials, “PC”.
And Hackney Labour wonder why people voted for Boris.
20-30 something middle-class mom and nicely turned out and very cute 6(ish?) year old daughter with fetching hat and coat. Mom’s walking her bicycle with empty child seat while the little girl was walking approx 10 yards in front of her. Mom’s working herself up to a good rant, and speeds up to the little girl who cowers and says: -
“Please don’t hit me, Mummy. Please don’t hit me”.
Mummy grabbed the girl by the arm and let her have the full spray treatment.
“Ok, ok, relax” with accompanying “keep it down” hand gesture.
Mummy stopped. Or so we thought. I think she just waited for the coast to be clear. Then she really let rip.
Punctuating every accusation with a yank to the girl’s arm, Mummy screamed in the girl’s face, “Because of YOU fiddling with your hair, WE’RE LATE! Because of YOU messing around with your coat WE’RE LATE! etc, etc…”
Then, out of nowhere, I heard, “HEY! Lady. Give the kid a break”.
There can’t have been one person on the Fields that didn’t hear that, “HEY!!” Even I was amazed.
Mummy spewed worse than any sailor I’ve ever heard. I do however recall her screaming at me, “WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?”
“A human being”. “And so is your kid”. Do we have to call the Old Bill?”
Mummy lost it.
I can’t remember exactly what was said other than, “WELL COME ON!!”. I immediately thought that I made a bit of a stupid move with that one. Sometimes, though, an invitation can be the best defence.
Mummy didn’t pick a fight with someone her own size or hang around for the police. She put her daughter on the back and cycled off into the night, shrieking “fuck you, fuck you” into the air behind her.
I couldn’t resist. I bellowed, “NICE ONE, MOM!”
Just as I was looking around, hoping no one I knew overheard my own intemperance, a lady approached me and said “I’m glad you said something”
“What gets me is that if she feels free to do that in public, imagine what happens behind closed doors”, I despaired.
“She’s scarring that girl for life”.
On the 73, approx 11:00 am today (and no, American friends, there is no Thanksgiving holiday here).
Two school-girls on the bus. Let’s call them “Little” and “Large”: -
Little to Large: “I was with Hayley and Chelsea and I floored him. I fucking floored him and he didn’t do nuffink. Ask my grandad.
Large, shouting down her mobile: “WE’RE ON THE BUS TO KING’S SQUARE, THEN WE’RE GOING OUT WEST”.
Little: “Give me that phone”. Now down phone: “You fucking wanker, next time I see you, I’m gonna scratch your face up”.
Large, taking phone back: “YEAH, OUT WEST, BUT WE’RE GOING TO KING’S SQUARE FIRST”.
Little, looking out the window: “OMG! There’s my school police officer. Tap on the window”.
Kid One: “No, no, no man. You have to have evidence. That’s your job. You have to prove I did it”.
Kid Two: “Where were you on the night of the stabbing?”
Kid One: “What night was that?”
Kid Two: “Oh yeah. Where were you on the 21st of May?”
Kid One: “I don’t remember”
Kid Two: “Ahhhhhhh! That’s how they will get you man”.
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