Category Archives: Irritating Things

Wildlife Rescue

Last Saturday (I’ve been meaning to post this for a while but I keep forgetting) I did some work experience up at Bedfordshire Wildlife Rescue. I’m going to tell you all about it, you lucky things!

When filling in the application form, I thought to myself, “wow, this place sounds big and fancy!”…this was not the case. It was a woman’s back garden. Now, don’t get me wrong, this wasn’t really a problem, it’s just that it was very tricky finding it on Google maps. It wasn’t listed as an actual establishment, so I then had to scour the internet to try and find the actual address, and Google Mapped that instead. When I actually arrived there, it was no easier. Her house was extremely well hidden and quite small, so no wonder they had been short of volunteers. They’d probably shown up but not been able to find it, so went home again! They really should put up a big sign or something instead of complaining about the ex-volunteers not showing up.

The small size of the house wouldn’t have been a problem if they really had been lacking in volunteers- but they weren’t. This place was so quaint that it could barely hold four of us, so, needless to say, attending to all the animals and cleaning out the cages was a difficult task, one which required us to tango around each other every time we needed to move somewhere.

Most of the people there were really friendly and helpful…but. My Mum had been quite offended by the woman who ran the place when we were first introduced at her garden gate. We had exchanged pleasantries and the woman, Sam, had let me in. She’d still had the gate open to my Mum, though. When my Mum had asked if she could come in, take a look around and see the pigeon we had given them to look after a few weeks previously, Sam had stated that they were busy right now and just shut the gate in my Mum’s face, not even giving me a chance to thank her for the lift there. Good start to the day.


A woman whose name I cannot for the life of me remember, was introduced to me and told to show me the ropes. Sam then disappeared, only to reappear every few hours or so but hardly address me, nor ask me how things were going, nor offer me a drink, a break, or directions to the toilet. I did not ask to use her toilet because, luckily, it was not needed for the few hours I was there for. If I had, however, needed the loo, I would have been screwed. None of the other volunteers seemed 100% comfortable either and none of them once left the shed at the bottom of Sam’s garden to use the loo, eat, or wash their hands. Now that I think about it, that’s yet another necessity/right which I was not offered the opportunity to exercise.

Not only this, but I am slowly beginning to discover how unlucky I am. A pigeon died in the carrier I had moved him to while I cleaned out his proper cage, for me to discover him a few minutes later by placing my hand on his still warm chest, his little buddy next to him freaking the fuck out. I think he hated me.

Another bird, a huge wood pigeon, was fucking mental, too. He just wouldn’t let me scoop him up for about five minutes straight. No matter how hard I tried or how desperately I attempted to become friends with him, he was still more in favour of flapping his wings into a frenzy and whacking his head against the side of the cage than he was of letting me pick up his podgy body. Crazy bastard. He could have hurt himself.

THERE IS MORE. Two pigeons of opposite sexes were being kept in the same cage, with a fake egg there to encourage them to mate and create a real egg together. Cute? Just wait. When I went to clean out their cage, I had found another egg next to the fake one…it was warm. I was filled with this amazing happiness and pride in the pigeons for creating a cute little baby bird! But the cage had to be cleaned, so I had asked what to do with the real egg until I could put it back in the cage with the Mummy and Daddy birds (I am aware that once unattended eggs obtain the scent of a human, the parent birds tend to give up on it and keep their distance, but I wasn’t sure whether this would still be the case in such an environment). THE WOMAN TOLD ME TO THROW IT AWAY. IN THE BIN. A LITTLE BABY BIRD. Her reasoning for this? Apparently they didn’t have the facilities to accommodate and look after it in. NO SHIT. But if they can’t look after any more babies then why on earth were they encouraging those pigeons to mate? More to the point, why were they even being kept in the same cage? I feel so guilty and filled with regret for not saying this to her and standing up for what I knew was right…I feel so evil!

I was also not met by Sam at the time of my departure to be thanked for my help, nor was I shown her gratitude via text or email. Rude.

Despite these above factors, however, I have found pride in the fact that I helped those poor innocent animals and possibly made a friend…maybe? There was one girl there who was about my age and she was really nice to me after we got over the initial awkwardness. Although maybe that awkwardness was all in my head. I am totally in-sociable, after all. I think I may be an introvert, to be honest. Anyway, we got chatting after we’d both started to walk out and, after checking that I had the means to get home, she jumped in her car just down the road, only to take a brisk U-turn, drive back to me after seeing me struggle to contact my parents, and offer me a lift. I politely turned her down as she didn’t know her way around Dunstable, but the fact that she offered actually meant a lot to me as until then I had next to no reason to go back there, other than the eternal guilt I would feel for leaving those poor little animals.

I still chose not to go back there this Saturday and I’m on holiday over the next two Saturdays, but still. I’ll go back eventually.

It just feels like every workplace I go to has several people who just make me feel as though I don’t belong and are either rude or condescending, which prevents me from wanting to go back.

Although, I really need to get myself a proper job because I seriously need the money. Any offers, guys? I promise I won’t bitch about you over social media…


Losing Faith in the Human Race


Today I am to speak to you about something a little more on the serious side. I would like to talk to you about a lethal condition which is currently spreading across the globe, gradually forcing its way through the majority of young people of my generation, and the generations after mine. This condition is known as utter, mind numbing, making me lose the will to live, brain cell obliterating, severe stupidity.

Those suffering from this condition are primarily those of us who were more susceptable to peer pressure and were more impressionable. People like this have now been overcome by the illness and have become…chavs. Mindless, English Literature abusing, blackberry utilising chavs.

Seriously, though. My sister had a friend stay over last week, and the most part of what they were saying was incomprehensible. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not old, I’m not totally behind with new slang words and shit, but it literally sounded as though they were making up new phrases and abbrieviations as they were going along. Allow me to demonstrate:

Nope, I can’t do it. My intellectual brain simply has not allowed me to memorise their strange new language.

This, along with ridiculously long fake nails, filthy orange skin, back-combed hair (which, by the way, just makes girls look like hobos), fake tits, flat tummies, air head tone of voice, hard girl/tough front to hide the fact that they cannot stand up for themselves for shit, and dumbass attitudes, had caused me to lose all faith in humanity.

Although most of these people reside in the generations after my own, this disease is beginning to infect more and more people of my age group. IT IS SPREADING PEOPLE, AND IT MAKES ME SICK. Physically sick.

It disgusts me to see the future of our society, scientific and intellectual progression and world in general go down the gloopy, green drain pipe which is the bane of my existance.

Whatever happened to real girls? What happened to natural beauty? What is so wrong about being smart that some people feel as though they need to “dumb themselves down”, to get ahead socially? What’s wrong with being pale instead of looking like you’ve been gang banged by Crayola?

Take some pride in yourselves, people! Come on. Let’s get back on track now, the joke’s over.

Why I Don’t Use WordPress Popularity Cheats

If you don’t know what I’m talking about, what I mentioned in the title are the cheat methods which are often presented to you by people who follow you on WordPress, who’s profile’s often state that you can gain a ridiculous amount of new followers and readers if you simply pay “just”…..your fucking life’s savings.

Okay, that may have been a slight exaggeration, but you get what I mean. These people are claiming that if you pay a certain amount of money, thousands, if not millions of people will somehow magically discover your blog.

Now, whether this may or may not be true, who of us would actually want to do this? Don’t we all want people to follow us due to our writing/blogging/photography/artistic abilities, rather than how much money we’ve given to god knows who?

If you still don’t see where I’m coming from then you clearly have one of two outlooks on the situation.
#1: You just don’t give a fuck.
#2: You’re new here and haven’t experienced this situation.

Me? I’m fairly new here, but I’ve been around long enough to know that I am strong enough to not cheat to gain folowers/likes/attention. There’s also the fact that I’m broke.

But you know, whatever.

“Man” Flu

Recently my Dad has become ill with “Man” Flu. At least that’s what he likes to call it.

In other words, he has ordinary flu, and his body aches from when he took my brother swimming on Sunday and decided to throw him across the pool (not to be cruel- when me and my sister were kids we also used to beg to be thrown across the pool, it’s quite fun).

Now, I’m not saying that I don’t sympathize with him, because I do. He has been in bed for almost two days straight now, coughing and spluttering, with a fever. So of course I feel horrible for him. But no man has the right to claim an ordinary flu to be specific to men.

I get that men don’t go through much physical pain in life, unless it is self inflicted through doing something stupid (my Uncle cutting his arm and belly open with a huge electric saw, for example). But trying to pass off an ordinary flu as an illness which only occurs in males and is worse than “girl” or ordinary flu? Piss off!

Men. IT IS JUST FLU. Women go through exactly the same thing, they just don’t make a huge deal out of it because they can actually handle pain. So grow a pair and get on with it!

P.S. I’m not saying that flu should be ignored or that you shouldn’t spend all day in bed coughing and spluttering, because you can’t help that. I’m just saying, stop calling it “Man” Flu. You don’t hear women saying, “oh no! I have a woman cold!”.

January Blues

It is now January. “No shit!”, you’re probably thinking. Or at least you should be, if you have a normal functioning brain. So would somebody please like to explain to me why, when on my way home with my boyfriend yesterday, we passed by two small children who were merrily singing ‘Deck the Halls’, at the top of their lungs? “Unacceptable!”, I hear you exclaim. But alas, this was not the worst part of the story. Who did we see trailing along behind said children? Their Mother. Now, would somebody please care to explain to me how any Mother in their right mind could possibly stand to listen to their children shout these lyrics out into the crisp night air, IN JANUARY? I can barely tolerate this kind of behaviour at the beginning or end of December. Am I the only one who finds this simply intolerable? Am I just a Scrooge? I hope not. Otherwise I shall have to leave this planet on the grounds that I am the only sane human in this desolate wasteland of bacteria.


Much to my disappointment, nay, misery, these said children seemed not to be the only people who could not simply let go of this holiday spirit. It seemed to me as though even the workers in McDonalds were having trouble with this otherwise easy separation of emotions. At first, as I entered the establishment with my boyfriend and several close friends, everything was as it should be. However, within a matter of moments I discovered that all was not well in McDonalds that day. My boyfriend looked at me with a concerned expression on his face as I struggled to adjust to the scene which had befallen my vision. I gazed off into the distance. Or, to be more accurate, the kitchen. My eyes glazed over with confused irritation, and I fought to gain control over the incoming bf (anybody who has seen ‘White Chicks’ will understand this reference. If you are one of those readers who have not experienced the pleasure of watching this ball-bouncingly funny film, you should leave this page now) which was about to be unleashed onto this restaurant on my part. After some time my mind allowed me to faze back in to reality, as I managed, with a pained expression on my face, to raise my hand and point to one of the workers slaving over the deep fryer. He followed my gaze and my finger, and he too was simply disgusted. For there, right in front of us, was a Christmas hat, resting happily on top of the acne-ridden teen’s head. Watching us. Mocking us. I wish this was a joke but, sadly, ’tis painfully true. 


Okay, maybe that depiction of the situation was a tad too over-dramatic. But if you are searching for positive, realistic, logical posts, then you have ventured into the territory of the wrong blogger. You’d better escape now. My sarcastic, narcissistic, pessimistic attitude is contagious, or so I’ve been told. No, really, I have. Go. Save yourselves! Happy Holidays you messed up people 🙂