Another Bank Holiday weekend, more farcical behaviour from my fellow Worksopians.
I hate Bank Holiday weekends. For some unknown reason, for three long days everyone decided to behave idiotically.
This Bank Holiday weekend I made the massive mistake of venturing out to Clumber and the other picturesque parts of North Notts.
I love being out and about in the countryside.
But on Bank Holidays the countryside turns into a green ghetto, as tracksuit-clad riff raff descend upon our beauty spots.
Usually when out in the great outdoors the only vehicles you see are tractors and Land Rovers, but those rules of engagement go out of the window when it’s a Bank Holiday.
The usually quiet, windy country lanes start to resemble the M25, and the sounds of nature are drowned out by the horrible hum produced by the overs-sized exhausts of boy racer cars.
The sound of lambs bleating for their mothers is replaced by the sound of horrible little brats bleating for an ice cream.
Ramblers with Thermos flasks are replaced with tattooed Benefits Street types with six-packs of extra-strength lager.
What infuriates me the most though is the sheer laziness of these oiks.
They park up their cars in Clumber, get out, then precede to have a picnic slap bang right next to their motor. What’s the point in that?
Breathing in exhaust fumes while scoffing pork pies and mini sausages.
Who wants to dine while gazing at a beautiful vista, when you can stuff your face while staring at the rear of a Vauxhall Zafira, eh?
You’ve got legs you idle sods, use them! That’s what the countryside is for, roaming around.
If you’re not going to respect the countryside and make the most of it, then my advice to you is, Bank Holiday or no Bank Holiday, stay well away.