Monday, 29 June 2009


Hot! Bothered! Hot! Hot! Hot! Hot! Sticky! Yuk! Hot! Hot! Hot! Bothered! Hot! Don't talk to me! Hot! Leave me alone! Hot! Hot! No Water! Melting! Hot! Hot! Hot! Tired! Sweating! Hot! Hot! Bored! Hot! Kill Someone! Hot! Hot! Hot! Bothered! Sweating! Sweaty! Bollocks Melting! Hot! Hot! Hot! Hot! Still Hot! Hotter! Hotter than Hell! Death! Kill me now! Hot! Hot! Hottedy Hot Hot! Bothered! Sticky! Sweating! Hot! Sticky! Hot! Hot! Die! Die! Water! Ice Cream! Hot! Hot! Hot! Fan! Air! Aircon! Hot! Hot! Hot! I love the rain and the cold! And Snow! Hot! Hot! Hot! Bothered! Dying! Dead! Hot! Hot! Sticky! Sympathy! Sweating like Michael Jackson's Doctor! Hot! Hot! Hot! Dying! Dead! Kill me! Hot! Hot! Fucking Unbearable Tube Journey Home!

Tuesday, 23 June 2009

'The Winnner Takes It All'

'The winner takes it all'

This is what Abba sang way back in the 70's, when the world was flat and everything was in black and white. Thanks to the revival of Mamma Mia this song blasted out round the household a week or so ago when the 7 year old had 12 of her screaming friends over to AngryTowers to celebrate her birthday.

Which was nice ...

While Bjorn, Benny, Agnetha and Anni sang away in the background, it became apparent that in today's Britain our molly coddled kids never lose.

I'm sure parents out there will know exactly what I mean. Teachers tell our kids that its 'the taking part that counts', and there are no 'losers' on sports day. As caring new-age parents we are equally guilty of letting our kids win everything. Go on, try and think of the last time you beat your child (though not literally)

Pass the parcel was a prime example. Way back when I were a lad 'Pass the parcel' consisted of a piece of coal wrapped up in 10 sheets of cheap paper, and one child would win. Simple. The others would go home empty handed. Not so today, Mrs AB made sure each layer contained a prize, the same prize so that each and every screaming 6 year old would win something. The main prize being won by, you guessed it, the child who hadn't 'won' anything else.

'Pin the star on the fairy wand' was another hollow sham. Despite the fact the cheating little toads could clearly see right through the cheap blindfold, each of them placing the star within 2mm of the wand, every child received a 'Winners Medal'.

Britain, would it really be so bad for kids to 'lose' occasionally? Think about your working day, does your boss love each and every one of you? No, mine neither. Winners survive and in today's climate the winners really do take it all. The feckless youth roaming our streets pillaging the benefits system and our pockets have simply lost the desire to 'win'. calls upon parents and teachers to re-instill competition in our kids, let's teach them that sometimes things don't go your way.

But when they do, by God doesn't it feel great?

Thursday, 11 June 2009

The RMT Respond. FAIL!

Click to enlarge.

An open letter to Bob Crow - RMT

Click image to enlarge:

Full text:

Dear Earn-a-Bob,

Please take this letter as an demand for £28 incurred in cab fares over the last 2 days thanks to you, your members, their strike action, and lack of any other feasible method to get me to my job, which I am hanging on to by the narrowest of recession-threads, in London., along with 3m other suffering commuters, would be grateful if you could make payment in the next 48 hours, or we will strike.

Strike you firmly in the hooter that is.

You may think our demand is unreasonable, however this is not a matter about which we are prepared to negotiate, table talks nor find a way of avoiding the impending strike.

We consider your demands for an inflation busting pay rise in the worst recession this country has ever seen as unreasonable too.

We also consider demands for the reinstatement of two of your members who clearly 'fucked-up' as laughable, and ludicrous.

So tough titty.

If £40k a year to play with a train set (and quite possibly yourselves in your darkened drivers cockpit) is not enough for you to live on may I suggest a career move? Perhaps armed robbery, drug dealing, or even become an MP.

For the avoidance of doubt, the last two days have been a total and utter pain in the arse for us commuters, while you and your bone idle members have been sat at home on theirs., on behalf of 3m commuters, wishes you syphilis and rain.

You may be aware of a song doing the rounds on the interweb called 'London Underground', set to 'Going Underground' by The Jam..

A line in it says 'Lazy fucking useless cunts'. And frankly I couldn't have put it better myself.

The other Tube, YouTube, isn't striking so you should be able to find it easily

Have a lovely day off, and we look forward to receiving payment within the next 48 hours to avoid said strike action.

How do you like those apples?

Yours sincerely,

The AngryMan (and 3m others)

Cc Mayor Boris - He can save us

Pass it on! Ta :)

Tuesday, 9 June 2009

Good to be back

20 days, 20 long sunny wonderful days. That's how long has been 'away' tending to the every whim of his beautiful new daughter.

And by god it sucks to be back.

06.53 Watford minor delays. 07.54 Green Park. Turfed off a defective tube, all the while surrounded by mutterings of strikes tomorrow over 'pay and conditions'

08.01 packed back on to another tube embedded in a fellow commuters armpit and away to my stop, London Bridge where I shall be relieved of £4.70 for the privilege.

Do me again Boris. Please sir, please can I have another?

The country is in meltdown, driven by blind man and the rot, and by that I mean Griffin and Co. has begun to set in but we are not beyond saving, oh no. What doesn't kill us only makes us stronger and the last 20 days haven't killed AngryBritain, neither have we 'gone soft'. We're back, albeit with a feint whiff of possett, and we're here to turn it around.

And as a parting thought, to the tube drivers having the next 2 days 'off'. AngryBritain has a 20 day old daughter at home who I now won't see for 72 hours.

But don't feel guilty, being cooped up alone in your drivers seat on a paltry £40k a year, or £10K more than most of the people suffering with me this morning, must be ghastly.

Poor you, poor poor you.