“You will never catch me, you Italian bastard” and other shitty things

“I came across this blog after I saw a link on Twitter and felt like I had to say my piece. It’s not about proving that you can read. Participating in World Book Day is fun for children. What child doesn’t like to dress up? I am sorry that you feel the way you do, really sorry. I hope your children don’t grow up to feel left out of whole school activities because you like to prove a point. I am a teacher and yes, I would judge you and I would doubly judge you on your ill informed observations on Shakespeare.” – a comment left on my blog.

Well, hello there Mr. Teacher.

I know you are a Mr, because you left your email address along with the comment and as I had half an hour to kill while I was neglecting my illiterate children, I Facebook stalked you.

You, Mr. Teacher, are a Hipster cunt, with a top knot and a full beard. I couldn’t see if you had a sleeve of 1950’s inspired tattoos, but I bet you do.

You are a Shakespear loving Hipster bastard who judges the parents of the children that you teach.

For what it’s worth, Mr Teacher, my observations on Shakespeare are not ill informed. Everything Shakespeare wrote is boring as fuck. I know, because I studied Drama and I had to learn more boredom-inducing monologues for stupid exams than you could ever imagine.

If I could dig up the dead bastard and give him a shake for all the hours of torment he put me through, then I would.

Would you like to complain about the above reposnse too? Oh, go on, because I bloody love a troll.

You see, Mr Teacher, I wrote that blog on World Book Day mid panic attack. That wasn’t me talking, it was the little bastard inside my head who like to try and fuck my life up every now and then.

You caught a snapshot of my life on one of the worst days I have ever had. About an hour after I wrote that post, a bomb went off under my life, and now I would like to take it out on you, because I have decided purely off the photos on your Facebook page that I don’t like you.

Not very nice of me, is it? To have taken a quick glimpse of your life and assumed that I know things about you?

You don’t have children yourself as far as I can see, but you do have a very ugly looking cat and I judge you for dressing it up like Batman. I hope your cat doesn’t grow up to feel left out of normal cat activities because you like to dress it up like a twat.

Would you like to know what else happened that day, Mr Teacher?

I had a family member end up in hospital with a head injury. This family member is losing the plot a bit and is one of the reasons that I drink to forget. They had a spectacular moment of madness on Thursday and suddenly thought that they were a window cleaner in 1939 while walking through Acton.

From what the hospital were told by the paramedics, it was a very bizarre situation with the peson who called the ambulance telling them that it was like a scene from a Carry On film.

My very elderly relative grabbed the bucket off the real window cleaner, climbed the ladder and stated to clean the window while singing “I’m the king of the castle and you’re the dirty rascal” at the top of his voice.

When a few concerned passers by tried to talk him down, he thought that one of them was Mussolini, slipped off the ladder while trying to get away saying “you will never catch me, you Italian bastard” and gave himself a head injury and severe bruising.

When I got to the hospital, they had lost him.When they said that, for the briefest of moments I thought that they meant he was dead and all I felt was relief. What an evil bitch I am. Add that to your list of terrible things about me.

They eventually  found him in a lift trying to chat up a cleaning lady wearing just his Y fronts.

When the doctor told me what happened, he couldn’t keep a straight face.

By the time he got to the bit about Mussolini, he was laughing so much that he had tears in his eyes.

“No, but actually, it’s a rather serious injury for a man his age” was what he said after he had managed to compose himself.

So forgive me if I don’t give a shit about Arsehole Shakespeare or World Book Day or what you think, Mr Teacher.

Do you know why I really dislike you for the most,  Mr. Teacher?

You made me write a post about my actual life.

I now have to put myself on my own bloggers shit-list.

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3 Comments »

  1. I hope your relative is okay. My nan kept getting admitted to hospital when she had dementia and they kept losing her. She’s just throw on her coat and walk to the bus stop. Hospitals are lax.

    Also Shakespeare is shit. I don’t get why people like that Romeo and Juliet with Leo in it. He doesn’t make it better. I don’t mind MacBeth, but like, only the idea of it. The actual words kill me but I like the dark story (that by all accounts he stole anyway). I like that you managed to make a shit hipster comment on you blog (and I’m not talking about myself). I think it means what you say is worth something.

    Like

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