Then there are their football shirted snot-nosed ice-cream eating brats. Well ice-cream eating is a misnomer. The ice cream they don’t manage to rub on their faces they dab on passers-by’s clothes. And if it isn’t ice cream its grease dripping ketchup saturated hotdogs bought from a East-European illegal immigrant who hasn’t washed his hands since immerging at Dover from underneath of a truck transporting Polish frozen turkey giblets. One bite of the sausage and instant diarrhoea.
They are merely a nuisance while they are standing still, when they move they become positively dangerous. They absentmindedly push their pram not looking where they are going. If a year ago they hadn’t thrust their appendage so decisively, they wouldn’t be encumbered with a pushchair now.
Why can’t they be contented and stay at home - take a chair out to the garden, have a barbecue get drunk on cheap vodka, and allow their kids to play football with a tin can while eating Pot Noodle.
Go home and leave me alone.



