I am currently sitting at home hastily writing this hate filled document to express my shear disgust at the amount of track-suit-clad, vertical cap wearing little scally’s that are spreading like a fucking tumour to every available corner of Aberdeen, but in particular, my local shopping centre.
Allow me to set the scene;
I was on my way home from visiting my Grandfather in the hospital after a long day, so I decided to stop for some takeaway food and a few beverages. Upon placing my order at Low’s, I meandered up towards Co-Op, where I could see clearly a large collection of shadowy figures dressed entirely in black, except for a few tell tale white stripes down their legs.
I knew instantly that this rabble of young kids were probably waiting for someone to buy them alcohol or cigarettes, and sure enough, as I approached the door, one of the little Parasites plucked up the courage to ask me to do the deed.
Needless to say, I was not entirely up for helping out a group of juvenile’s that I detest more than Terry Wogan, and that’s saying something, because that Irish gentleman is very unpopular with me. Anyway, why would I want to help a Ned onto a single track road of alcohol and drug abuse that he would no doubt end up on in a year or two regardless?
I tried to politely decline this young chap’s plea to buy him “the cheapest cider there”, but after several seconds of attempted persuasion, I had to be a little bit firmer and just said a simple “No.” This did not go down particularly well with the rest of the Tumour, particularly when I emerged from Co-Op three minutes later carrying a few bottles for myself.
This time, it was not one Parasite that scurried up to me, but three, two stumpy little creatures and one tall, lanky one. You could tell the tall one probably got bullied at school, probably for being really fucking ugly and equally retarded. This particular Parasite made (Censored), look like a Nobel Prize winner.
With their combined age probably only being a few years older than mine, I didn’t feel that I had too much to worry about in the way of physical abuse, perhaps just an array of obscene words that they would use without knowing the true meaning. However, I wasn’t entirely expecting the flood of groggy saliva that rained down around my feet.
I sat my beer down calmly and walked towards them. This time I think it was the Parasites who weren’t expecting this turn of events. The first one I got to was the biggest, so I felt like less of a school bully picking on him. I grabbed him by the scruff of his jacket, not unlike a vermin infested household cat that you deal with when they have brought a dead mouse to your feet, and pushed him against a wall, all the while shouting at him what he was thinking starting something with someone considerably bigger and older than he was.
I think to his surprise, but not to mine, the other Parasites retreated down the steps and headed away round a corner. He looked frightened now. Now he looked like a cat when you give it a surprise bath – totally embarrassed and washed out. I released my grip and he turned and walked briskly away. I turned to collect my beer, feeling quietly proud of myself, until I saw that said beer had vanished. This was the part that did surprise me.
I had to hand it to the Parasites, that was quite a gutsy manoeuvre. I went back inside Co-Op and tried to re-buy beer, however this time I was refused service since they thought I was supplying alcohol to the minors at the door.
And so, I had come full circle from refusing to help the little bastards right at the start, to having them steal my night’s entertainment, and finally, to the acne covered desk assistant accusing me of taking the Parasites money to fund them with booze. I would not have thought that Tuborg would have been the required brand of underage kids wanting to get skulled.
I returned to Low’s hoping that the Ned’s had not collected my food as well.
So, what are we to do about these “people” that feel like they can terrorise communities with their foul behaviour? And what are we supposed to do to avoid getting tarred with the same brush as these assholes?
Had I been an elderly member of the community in that situation where I was getting spat at, I would have been propelling my zimmer frame away from there as fast as two hip replacements would have allowed me. But why should I be made to feel scared in a home I have probably occupied longer than any of these young whippersnappers?
When I was at school, I barely looked at any older kids in fear of getting my head flushed during interval, and now it seems that today’s youth are so comfortable in their groups of fellow Tracky’s, that they will spit at someone who isn’t willing to break the law for them?
Thing’s have to change.
Have you ever been sitting at home bored on a random evening, wishing for something exciting to do? My thought is this: Get together a group of your trusted friends, a few balaclavas or ski masks (Miller’s provide the ideal example of afore mentioned attire) and take back your local shopping centre. Run the Ned’s out of any public area now, before it’s too late. If they are the Cancer, and the shops are the Patients, then we must be the Chemotherapy. Force the Cancer into remission until the Patient is given the all clear, and once again people will marvel at how effective Chemotherapy can be, even when the odds are stacked against the Patient never being able to make a recovery.
Colin Bruce.
Disclaimer – I do not insight violence.
Allow me to set the scene;
I was on my way home from visiting my Grandfather in the hospital after a long day, so I decided to stop for some takeaway food and a few beverages. Upon placing my order at Low’s, I meandered up towards Co-Op, where I could see clearly a large collection of shadowy figures dressed entirely in black, except for a few tell tale white stripes down their legs.
I knew instantly that this rabble of young kids were probably waiting for someone to buy them alcohol or cigarettes, and sure enough, as I approached the door, one of the little Parasites plucked up the courage to ask me to do the deed.
Needless to say, I was not entirely up for helping out a group of juvenile’s that I detest more than Terry Wogan, and that’s saying something, because that Irish gentleman is very unpopular with me. Anyway, why would I want to help a Ned onto a single track road of alcohol and drug abuse that he would no doubt end up on in a year or two regardless?
I tried to politely decline this young chap’s plea to buy him “the cheapest cider there”, but after several seconds of attempted persuasion, I had to be a little bit firmer and just said a simple “No.” This did not go down particularly well with the rest of the Tumour, particularly when I emerged from Co-Op three minutes later carrying a few bottles for myself.
This time, it was not one Parasite that scurried up to me, but three, two stumpy little creatures and one tall, lanky one. You could tell the tall one probably got bullied at school, probably for being really fucking ugly and equally retarded. This particular Parasite made (Censored), look like a Nobel Prize winner.
With their combined age probably only being a few years older than mine, I didn’t feel that I had too much to worry about in the way of physical abuse, perhaps just an array of obscene words that they would use without knowing the true meaning. However, I wasn’t entirely expecting the flood of groggy saliva that rained down around my feet.
I sat my beer down calmly and walked towards them. This time I think it was the Parasites who weren’t expecting this turn of events. The first one I got to was the biggest, so I felt like less of a school bully picking on him. I grabbed him by the scruff of his jacket, not unlike a vermin infested household cat that you deal with when they have brought a dead mouse to your feet, and pushed him against a wall, all the while shouting at him what he was thinking starting something with someone considerably bigger and older than he was.
I think to his surprise, but not to mine, the other Parasites retreated down the steps and headed away round a corner. He looked frightened now. Now he looked like a cat when you give it a surprise bath – totally embarrassed and washed out. I released my grip and he turned and walked briskly away. I turned to collect my beer, feeling quietly proud of myself, until I saw that said beer had vanished. This was the part that did surprise me.
I had to hand it to the Parasites, that was quite a gutsy manoeuvre. I went back inside Co-Op and tried to re-buy beer, however this time I was refused service since they thought I was supplying alcohol to the minors at the door.
And so, I had come full circle from refusing to help the little bastards right at the start, to having them steal my night’s entertainment, and finally, to the acne covered desk assistant accusing me of taking the Parasites money to fund them with booze. I would not have thought that Tuborg would have been the required brand of underage kids wanting to get skulled.
I returned to Low’s hoping that the Ned’s had not collected my food as well.
So, what are we to do about these “people” that feel like they can terrorise communities with their foul behaviour? And what are we supposed to do to avoid getting tarred with the same brush as these assholes?
Had I been an elderly member of the community in that situation where I was getting spat at, I would have been propelling my zimmer frame away from there as fast as two hip replacements would have allowed me. But why should I be made to feel scared in a home I have probably occupied longer than any of these young whippersnappers?
When I was at school, I barely looked at any older kids in fear of getting my head flushed during interval, and now it seems that today’s youth are so comfortable in their groups of fellow Tracky’s, that they will spit at someone who isn’t willing to break the law for them?
Thing’s have to change.
Have you ever been sitting at home bored on a random evening, wishing for something exciting to do? My thought is this: Get together a group of your trusted friends, a few balaclavas or ski masks (Miller’s provide the ideal example of afore mentioned attire) and take back your local shopping centre. Run the Ned’s out of any public area now, before it’s too late. If they are the Cancer, and the shops are the Patients, then we must be the Chemotherapy. Force the Cancer into remission until the Patient is given the all clear, and once again people will marvel at how effective Chemotherapy can be, even when the odds are stacked against the Patient never being able to make a recovery.
Colin Bruce.
Disclaimer – I do not insight violence.
3 comments:
Dont read this if you are going to reply and whinge!
kill the cancer b4 the cancer gets out of control and kills US! There is a wee possie of 6 or 7 tracky-b ned's that have recently taken to walking down my quite residential street. My dad heard them coming up the street one night a few weeks past so he clocked them out the window. They where loitering just out side my front drive and walking up the road generally pushing each other and just being loud and nedie, as my dad grew-up in clydebank he is only to aware of little scum buckets like this casing out driveways to see what you have and tell there scummy parents so they can come back and rob you, since we have two motorbikes on the dive way my dad was a bit jumpy so he went out and told them he didn't like them hanging about out side our door. Two weeks later on my walk home from town in the early hours of Saturday i noticed a foot print on my dads car bonnet, the little fucks had run right over the top my dads car he was soo pissed when i told him in the morning! there was about 8 carbon copies of a nike airmax trainer about size 7-8 indented over it.
Colin your right there is only one way to deal with these "Parasites" and the only way they get the message is a good beating!! its they way they have been brought up, the fucking scarey thing is there is now 3 generations of this scum out their so police and verbal tellings off have been tried for years and don't work! cuz mom, dad, granny & grampa are bam pots them selfs and don't give a flying fook about society!!
colin and craig, very well put...it is ashame our society is almost made to deal with these parasites...
first of all, colin you got owned to be honest, when i read you put the beer on the ground, i knew it was gone!
second of all, a wee story for your ears from my hood, down southside of the hill. not too long ago our garage was broken into and nothing stolen but 3 or 4 bottles of wine and a case of irn bru, im sure the neds drinks of choice...
not nearly 2 weeks from the day of the burglary my dad was walking out to lock his car around 11 at night, and he heard some youths strolling past, and without even a second thought they turned to walk down the drive, to what looked like another attempt to check the garage for some more booze...
Has it come to that stage now, that these bacteria feel its there rite of passage to walk on others property without any care? back in the day, if a football was kicked into another garden, it seemed like a stealth mission to retrieve it, even though there was a viable reason for the intrusion...
needless to say, my father was able to startle the little maggots enough that they ran off...not before he was able to get over his own shock and grab one of their hoodies. the kids was apparently terrified and had nothing to say, unfortunately if my father was to do anything more in that situation, he would become the "bad guy".
I never studies chemotherapy, but the only way to test such a recovery method it to try...
Im in!
Im also with you boys here, the little bastards have absolutely no fear about doing what every they want, simply because if they do get caught they get a slap on the wrists and thats it.
When i was younger, if i got taken home by a copper my old boy would have gone spare! Now a days the parents have a go at the coppers cos they are 'hassling' their little shit bags.
A year ago our garage got broken into and the fuckers knicked my motocross bike, coppers eventually caught them, 3 14 year olds, i never saw the bike again or any compo but i bet fuck all happened to the wee fuckers.
I sleep with a pretty sizeable baseball bat beside my bed now and a motion sensor alarm for the garage, they wont be doing that again ;)
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