GOG: Complainers... they're the worst
By The Grumpy Old Git
Image Credit: Compilation/Jennifer Stahn
November 06, 2014 - 7:30 AM
'I HAVE NO ISSUE WITH THE COLOUR OF THEIR SKIN; IN FACT I FIND THE PASTY WHITE NICELY OFFSETS THE BROWN OF THEIR TEETH WHEN THEY SNARL'
I am not a racialist. Far from it: I am myself composed of many different and interesting colours. But I have to admit there is a race of people who never fail to annoy me. It’s not the way they look, though they are universally acknowledged to be some of the least attractive people on the planet, it’s the fact that they are also the most miserable. I am talking, of course, about the English.
I have no issue with the colour of their skin; in fact I find the pasty white nicely offsets the brown of their teeth when they snarl. I do not in any way object to their predominant religion which incorporates myriad deities from Wayne Rooney to Fernando Torres. I am tolerant of their strange customs and beliefs, including the restorative power of tea and the laughable conviction that they can cook. I can even put up with their horrid little diesel cars, as long as I don’t have to drive one.
It’s the constant complaining that really gets my goat. The abiding English attitude is that everything is, always has been, and always will be rubbish. When it is, they take solace in being right. When it isn’t, their comfort comes from knowing that it will be soon.
Going to a restaurant with an Englishman is a textbook lesson in misery. If they wait two minutes for a drink “the service is terrible”; if the waiter asks how everything is, “they won’t they leave us alone.” The food will be too hot, or too cold, or overcooked, or underdone. The wine will be the wrong temperature, wrong year, wrong label, and placed two inches to the left of where it should be on the table.
Of course, they will never say any of this to the staff: to do so just wouldn’t be “British.” Instead they will regale their long-suffering dinner companions with this litany of woes before moving on to their recent holiday, which was utterly spoiled because Marbella was full of Spanish people and the beach was too sandy.
They complain about everything, but their biggest source of material is the weather. Admittedly, their weather can be a bit damp, but it’s not just the drizzle that sets off the grizzle. If the sun shines it’s “too bloody hot,” if there’s a short shower it “never bloody stops raining” and the mere rumour of a snowflake is enough to bring the entire country to a halt. Airports close, cars drive themselves into ditches, and the government warns everyone to stay huddled indoors, muttering about the awfulness of it all, until spring.
They will miss no opportunity to moan. There is even a special page on The Facebook, dedicated to a class of Englishmen with nothing to contribute to society except a running commentary about how dreadful everything is. You can find it here: http://www.facebook.com/grumpyoldgits
Take a look and tell me, have you ever seen anything more ridiculous in your life?
— Only The Grumpy Old Git would complain about grump old gits
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