Your funeral, my trial

Check this wack shit:

My parent's application for a house extension, which they need so that they can properly accommodate the foster children in their care.

What's so wack about it is the fact that so many of my selfish ex-neighbours are bitching and moaning about the fact that it will effect their sunlight levels and privacy, even saying that less sun during winter afternoons will have a negative effect on their heating bill (from a guy who only visits at weekends. Also, what planet's he living on? What sun during winter? Even if it's present, it sure as hell isn't warm). Even the people next door are complaining, and they've already had their own extension built, to provide themselves with a lovely conservatory, sticking a big wall in the way of the back garden view in the process. Goddamn hypocrites. The keeping up with the Jones's bullshit and rivalry that goes on in that street makes me ill; it was the same sort of situation when one person in the street got a balcony, and suddenly everyone was building one. Except my parents have a genuine need for more room, whereas practically everyone else who lives there is either extremely old and childless, or only visit on weekends, or both.

Anyway, check that link and lend your support if you have a few seconds; I'm pretty proud of the little rant I put there, but all it would take is a little "I support the plans, Ian and Carol are doing a great job and one important to society and need the room" or whatever, and hopefully we can drown out all of the miserable bastards who have a problem with it.

I got hassled by someone outside the union today, advertising something called "Shag Tag". I pointed out to Matthew that it looked stupid, and she advanced on me and forced a leaflet under my friggin' armpit, shouting "TAKE ONE!" like a mad harpie bitch.

Grumble grumble grumble... I hate the union, and I hate my old neighbours, and I miss Heather.

I like this though:

John Caley - Overboard.