by sticky


If the government decided to conduct a compulsory National Intelligence Test, I am confident that  the town where I live would come out as the most intellectually blighted.

I haven’t seen the film ‘Sleepless in Seattle’, but I have a fantasy parallel, ‘Brainless in Gillingham’ (yes, I know: I couldn’t come up with anything similarly alliterative. Even ‘Gormless’ doesn’t go, as the G in Gillingham is soft, rather than hard. I have in the past heard this place described as Brown Town – guess why – so maybe ‘Brainless in Brown Town’ would be a snappier title).

Anyway, this is the place where people walk out in front of your car without looking, forcing you to brake. And where people push their be-buggied brats out in front of your car, forcing you to brake. I’m not exaggerating – it has happened to me 2 or 3 times. Maybe it’s something in the water (I filter mine), alcohol abuse, or over-prescription of anti-depressant drugs. I don’t know.

My partner has been deemed to be vulnerable, and has been ordered to ‘shield’, so every 8-10 days, since March, I have been doing a big shop for her, and taking it round (ensuring ‘social distancing’ of course).

Earlier today I drove to the local out-of-town Tesco, grabbed a trolley and took my place in the queue. I soon became aware that somebody was very close behind me, so I turned around to see a girl, probably seven years old, literally about one foot away from me, closely followed by two younger siblings, and what must have been their father – Brainless in Gillingham – gazing moronically into his mind-control unit. I glared at her, then moved forward to re-establish two metres from the person in front.

That uncomfortable auric disturbance assailed me again, so I turned around once more and said commandingly “You’re not maintaining your distance!” They all gawped at me as though they were suffering some kind of deficit: you know, blank faces, gaping mouths. I turned to the front again. One of the brats must have asked the dad what it was about: instead of saying something like “Oh, we got too close to that man in front – make sure you keep a social distance of two metres”, he actually said “It’s just that man being rude“!

I wasn’t going to have that, so I turned around again and said to him “No, I wasn’t being rude”. Before I had the opportunity to help him expand his compromised perception and understanding of the situation all around him, he started blurting “But you’re vaping, which isn’t very nice for my children, and isn’t good for . . . ” I raised my eyebrows and turned back to the front. He must have seen it in my hand, as my vape is a modest little thing – anyone standing behind me (at least 2 metres away, anyway) wouldn’t even be aware that I was using it. Unlike that overweight bloke in the shorts and Converse high-top trainers, with his ginger, straggly beard and large holes in his earlobes (yes, him!), walking along engulfed in a cloud of vapour the size of a double-decker bus.

Anybody who has been out of their home in the past three months (and I realise that some of you may not have been) to go food shopping, can’t have failed to notice that your local council and local retailers have gone to great lengths to ensure that people out-and-about maintain an adequate distance from others, in order to help contain the Covid-19 virus. There are signs everywhere you look: “Please maintain a social distance of 2 metres, in order to protect our staff and other customers“. The aisles inside, and the paving stones outside the shops have strips of bright tape every 2 metres, sometimes printed with the relevant slogan. Out-of-town supermarkets are no different. Tesco workers are now even wearing clothing emblazoned with the standard cautions, and there is usually somebody walking around looking like a lollipop man (or woman) with a similar sign declaring ‘two metres’.

You turn on your television: “Covid-19. Covid-19. Covid-19. Covid-19. Covid-19. Social Distancing. Social Distancing. Social Distancing. Social Distancing. Social Distancing. Two metres. Two metres. Two metres. Two metres“. Then when you put the news on . . .

Now, despite all the concern, and the hype, I have never felt anxious about this disease. I know it doesn’t mean I’m immune, necessarily, but I am never ill, and can’t remember the last time I even had a cold. I keep my immune system boosted, and discovered years ago how to destroy bacterial and viral infections (without prescription drugs).

However, I don’t want to transmit some moron’s infection to my vulnerable partner.

I seem to recall another film I haven’t seen . . . They Breed.


9 Comments to “Brainless”

  1. About halfway through this, I was already planning to follow up with a breeding remark but you beat me to it. Refer to the movie Idiocracy for a preview of coming events. Come to Alabama to see it already in action.


  2. This also happened to ME ! in a ”boulangerie”. “No more than 3 customers in this shop please”. I was number two, patiently waiting my turn, 2 metres behind the person in front. Behind me, boof-headed male parent gawping at female shop assistants in between screening his read, and not monitoring his 7-yr-oldish brat , who was almost into my left cheek so to speak.

    At the third impact, I turned round and said to the youngster, “Mâitre, cela n’est pas un mètre”.

    The presumed parent said, “Il y a un problème ?”
    I replied, “Oui, d’abord je m’appelle Monsieur; et deuxième, votre enfant doit respecter les deux mètres…”

    The guy looked somewhat confused but pulled back his kid by the shoulder, obviously not daring to say any more to me, given the glare he got!

    P.S. Has anybody ever seen a French underground caving film, it reminds you of the Keystone Cops, all up one another’s arses ( just like on the motorway, in fact) — I reckon it must be a result of the strange toilet-training they do (or don’t) receive, they are a VERY backside-oriented nation LOL

    Expat Freedom Survivor


  3. Reassuring to see that it’s not just the English who are capable of being a bunch of dicks, then.

    I must admit, I’m not particularly familiar with French underground caving films; they must be something that passed me by.


  4. On the subject of dickery . . .

    We have, near to home, an area of local moorland that I help to care for as part of a local conservation group.

    During this lockdown mallarkey, a whole bunch of Oldham’s Finest have discovered the place and descended upon it in a manner not unlike a swarm of shorts-clad locusts.

    This, in itself is not a bad thing; after all we want people to see and appreciate the place. The problem here is that they don’t fucking appreciate it, other than in a “Look Chantelle [insert other moronic child name here as appropriate] Let’s have a barbecue in the nice dry grass near that lovely waterfall” sort of way.

    Recently MrsN and one of her friends have been making twice-daily litter picking trips to the small lake on the site as it has been home to a sizable (50+) herd of sunbathing and swimming yoof for a couple of weeks now. Every day they (and others) shift several bin bags each of cans, bottles, NOX canisters, balloons, shoes, underpants and disposable barbecues.

    The local Farcebook page has covered this, which only serves to attract even more of the disgraceful wee shites , and the other day an absolute gem of a comment appeared on there, on general theme of slagging off the litter pickers for complaining; saying they should ‘get a life! These are just kids being kids. They’re just meeting their friends after being locked down for weeks’

    I paraphrase here, as I’m sure that it would have said ‘There just meeting there friends . . .’ – such is the way of social media commenting.


    • “just kids being kids”

      Ah, yes, in the grand tradition of boys just being boys by raping, dogs just being dogs by biting, and kids just being kids by destroying property.

      All three could be succinctly remedied by a short leash and a choke collar. Not to mention sterilization. Let’s review:


    • Yes, woddy, terpenes seem to play a large part in cannabis’s therapeutic efficacy, and a lot of research is going on. Cannabis has, apparently, about 100 of the 20,000 terpenes found in nature. However, their combination with phytocannabinoids no doubt enhances their effect.

      The trouble is, because of the international criminal conspiracy against the plant, any terpenes that are identified as medically useful would probably be extracted from other plants, and not benefit from this ‘entourage effect’.


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