Not another rant

Not two rants on one page; the golden rule is that there must be at least 8 posts between rants, or one is in danger of turning into the political equivalent of a mad catwoman, cussing, twitching and hurling random felines at passers-by. And yet, I can hear it happening to me... Here's what's just gone through our parliament.

Dear England.

No whining now, here's what British law is going to be. Say you object to fox hunting...all right... and say you set up a group with some friends to campaign about it, to raise awareness on the subject; Well, you can do that, you can campaign and you can lobby - except in the run up to an election. Cos you might actually influence people then, and that's the last thing we want. So if you say or do anything that might change the outcome of the election - anything at all, leave it to us to decide on the specifics - we'll just fine you. No need for proof that you have actually changed anything, the key word is 'might,' and as what/why/who you might affect is completely subject to interpretation, best you keep your mouths shut or face enormous fines. Then you won't be able to lobby at all, even in the years we do allow you to open your mouths, because you just won't have the cash!

So shut up. That's right, just shut up. Keep quiet. Say nothing. It's only in the run up to the election after all. After that moment, in a general miasma of futility when there really is nothing you can do to stop us, feel free to babble all you like. We don't mind that - for now.

With ever closer regards

Creedy and the black bag boys.

I, Monster

Homewards on the bus in the rain and the dark, a curious smell permeates. I look around. God, is there someone here who needs a bath? But the smell isn't body odour; it's like when wet clothes aren't hung to air properly, and a strange musty pong results no matter how clean they are. I get off the bus, walk home and take off my shoes to solve the mystery. My boots have completely leaked, my feet are sodden and my socks smell like big wet mushrooms.

To add to the magic, my suspicions regarding wheat intolerance seem well founded. After giving up bread, many of my symptoms have disappeared. I had one slice this afternoon, and it's safe to say my duodenum appears to have thrown a tantrum about it. Repeatedly.

I feel sorry for anyone who had to walk behind me/in front of me/anywhere near me tonight.

And yes, I am having that bath.