Editor's Blog Jun 13th 2012
Royal Pride
Early this morning I was awoken by a sound I have never heard before. The closest sound that I could think of that resembled this sound was the hissing of a very large and irritated anaconda.
I poked my head and half my body out the window. I had forgotten to put some underpants on, realising that the tiles that adorn my balcony are quite cold at that time in the morning, I ran back to the bedroom and made myself decent.
Poking my head out the window again, I had to crane my neck out to see what the noise was. To my surprise, Master Services where there in force, on the patio adjacent my flat, with a platoon of workers pressure hosing the dried dog turd skid marks off the flag stones, but only for a stretch of about fifty metres.
One would think there was going to be a Royal Visit or something. Master services only ever hose with salt water from a manky yellow hose that has less pressure the urethra of an OAP with a severe urine infection.
Taking it all in, I noticed that they had added soap into the equation too, also something that rarely happens. No, the single Master Services guy that comes around but once a month, just pushes the up rooted turds around with its pitiful squirting hose, which float aimlessly down the street on a brown Tsunami where they collect into one big pile of excrement. Then left to dry, where it is slowly eroded by the wind until it becomes nothing but a stain on the floor.
It takes a Royal visit for some very strange behaviour by those preparing for the event. I laughed out loud when I saw some Green Arc employees spray painting the grass on the sundial green, which would have been fine had it not looked the colour of someone’s face after eating some bad oysters.
I have said it before, I am a monarchist and do love the unity of the people when such visits occur, but I am also a realist and know that when the confetti has settled and the empty bottles of Champaign are recycled, these areas will be left to fall into a state of neglect.
Yesterday I saw the result of great civic pride and hard work by the tenants in one of our roughest estates. Today we will see some more of the same in Laguna. Mi Barrio.
Not wanting to poop on the party I will say no more, other than one more small observation from this morning. The lady from across the way was complaining, mop in hand scrubbing furiously, that there was seagull guano all over her porton and under her window and that it was highly embarrassing since the Prince was coming.
I just nodded and thought to myself, if you just stopped throwing bread at the flying rats like you do every day you would not have that problem.
People; keep that pride in your surroundings well after our visitors have left, “for the measure of a sound mind is a clean house”
Ed.
