I went to a function on Monday night. It was one where I happened to bump into an old Superintendent, long since retired. A lovely man.
We had a pint afterwards in a local hostelry and he happened to enquire as to whether I was still enjoying the job, now I’d been out of it for 3 years or so. I must have gone off on one about what life was really like in the control room and the shite we had to deal with these days and why the service to the public was so piss poor. I think his eyes started to glaze over, so I changed the subject.
On the way home, I called in to a petrol station to fill up. I’d actually hit the red on the way to the function, but because I’d been working and had only an hour to grab a bite to eat, shower and change after work, and get to the function, I’d not had time to fuel up.
I pulled into the petrol station around 10.30pm, there was nobody on the forecourt. I thought it a bit strange that of the 8 pumps, all unleaded were empty. That was until I heard the Conservative government in the form of Francis Maud & the Prime Minister today encouraging everyone to go panic buying petrol, just in case there is a petrol delivery drivers’ strike at some unspecified time in the future.
Way to go, Camo. Sometimes they haven’t got a fucking clue, have they.
Sometimes? Change that; all the time.