Man, what a day, and it’s not even over yet! People who read this blog will know that I’m not usually the kind of guy to dump on everything, and get all angry and such, but I really need to have a bit of a rant today. Usually, if I’m stressed I’ll turn on the PS3, whack on ‘Killzone’ and blast some Helghan scum into smitherines,
but Mr Playstation has decided to die on me, so that ain’t an option. I’d smash something up in my house, but my Mum has come to stay and I don’t really want her to watch me go all ‘Hulk SMASH’ on the fruit left in the bottom of my fridge.
So instead I’m going to have a moan on here, and release it into the ether, so you have been warned, DO NOT READ THIS POST! It’s only going to get worse from here.
So first, I arrive at work, and as usual, everybody else has turned up early and outside my vans I have at least 30-50 packages waiting for me. It’s a bit annoying but what are you going to do? Then 3 hours later, I have 60 packages outside the vans, and another 40-50 waiting on the line ready for me to load up. Do I get any help? F**k No! All I get is one of the drivers b*tching at me that I’m ‘not doing it right!’
Well you know what Mr Driver whose name I can’t be bothered to remember, F**K YOU!
The other thing that has annoyed me today is the bloody heat! Man, its oppressive isn’t it? It’s like the sun has become Kim Jong Un and is trying to bend us all to his will through heat exhaustion.
You know what sun F**K YOU!
Then, I realised that I still haven’t renewed my Tax Credits. Which in itself is annoying. Why do they even bother to say, ‘You need to let us know if anything has changed, or if it hasn’t changed.’ It just makes no damn sense, if nothing has changed why do they need to know? And, if anything changes in the year we have to let them know, never mind the fact that THEY ARE THE HMRC! Do you know the one institution other than my employer who know how much tax I pay HMR-F**KING-C!
If HMRC don’t know how much I have earned in the year, then how do HMRC know how much tax I’m supposed to pay? Why have I got to call THEM up, to say what THEY already know?
It’s just HMRC f**king with people, making it so damn difficult to claim for these things in the hope that people like me will just give up and not bother applying, either that or hoping that people like me will destroy their phones while trying to get through to their “help line”
Speaking of which…
When I finally did get through, the moron on the other end of line told me I needed to provide 2 years worth of P60’s for me and the Mrs, so I tore the house apart looking for them, unsuccessfully. I tried to give an estimate.
So I hung up, looked for the P60’s, and found something that gave me a close estimation for the both of us, and thought, to hell with phoning them up I’ll do it online.
So I phone them up for a second time, got through the automated security questions for the second time, got through to an advisor, who was obviously on work experience from moronsville, dumbasf**kistan, who asked me for my post code, which I gave,
Address before that?
Sorry sir but…
Finally, after resisting the temptation to google the office in which she works, and flying to it using the super heated wings of flaming righteous anger which had emerged from my spine, then ramming the P60s and current address down her slack-jawed mouth. I gave her my old post code, which surprise surprise worked. They obviously hadn’t changed my address on the system, even though I receive all my HMRC letters to my new house, so really it was a case of the so-called governments arse not talking to its elbow.
So you know what HMRC F**K YOU!
Finally, I just had a row with the Mrs, I dropped the kids off at nursery, called her up (she’s away at the moment) and politely asked if she could send me another £20 as ‘our cupboards are beginning to look a bit bare and I’m seriously beginning to fear for the fate of the grapes!’
Too which she replied ‘What you spent all the money already?’
All the money? I replied. £70 in a week! Yeah, supplies are running low, guess what, food is f**king expensive these days, especially when the closest shops are a Co-op and a Tesco Express, have you ever tried to buy a pair of chicken breasts in either of those places? It’s cheaper to go to a plastic surgeon to buy a pair of people breasts!
So you know what food prices F**K YOU!
GRR, yeah, I think I got it all out, sorry if I bummed any of you out, but to be fair, I did warn you. So for an apology/reward for making it to the end, here is something to lighten the mood.