The Ill Man Learns The True Meaning Of Inner Peace

Evenin' all. Another trying day at the footie. Thistle were pretty poor it has to be said, but it's the people who surround me at the games that are starting to disappoint me more than a mere football team ever could. Home games at Firhill are a nightmare. Sullen, bad tempered fans sit in silence and wait to be entertained, wait for the goals to rain in. When they don't the barracking starts and purple faced men start bellowing like wounded oxen. The opposition support, small as it is are making a hellish racket and they only up the ante when they smell blood and a home team that don't look like they fancy their chances. I blame the layout of our ground to a degree, but I also blame the bitter old bastards that turn out every week and spend the game grumbling into their bovril and abusing players, the sort of thunder faced retards that stare in disgust at anyone trying to get a bit of noise going, anyone who dares applaud the centre forward they've been screaming at for the last twenty minutes. I also blame the team for not being very good sometimes, but it's the way of the world in lower division football. Teams have crap days and don't deliver the goods, get over it. Of course, the rage of the wounded footie fan is nothing compared to that of a motorist with a grievance. On the way home from work on friday I witnessed my first road rage incident. I didn't actually see what led up to the confrontation, but needless to say it was two blokes screaming blue murder at each other and generally make a right arse of themselves. What struck me was the fact that at a busy and badly laid out interchange one ought to expect people to be in the wrong place at the wrong time or to make moves that aren't exactly sanctioned by the highway code. Simply put, theres nothing to get worked up about................ I turned back and found a vantage point from which to observe the proceedings. I have to say, I did get a bit of a kick out of it all and even left a little disappointed that they didn't start kicking the crap out of each other. I really ought to be ashamed of that I suppose............... Anyway, a woman got out of one of the cars and sort of defused things, either that the bloke she was with had raged himself to a standstill and she was just on hand to guide him back to the car. Poor sod, all that willy waving and it got him where exactly? Chaperoned back to his car by his bemused passenger in front of equally bemused onlookers. I hope she spent the rest of the journey home thinking of ways to ditch the hopeless wazzock. Me? I reserve my rage for real evil like blogger outages, Simon Cowell and the Daily Mail. As such find that I lead a most serene and peaceful existance...............