Saturday, 31 March 2012

The Great British Queue

What is it about the British and Queuing? Back in the dim dark past a 17 year old VP spent a few months in Tenerife, sunbathing, chasing girls, fighting, and working in the bars on the beach front. One of the jobs was to pay people to stand in a queue, We aimed to get our queue looking its best with plenty of lovely looking girls who would entice the young males into the bar where we could charge them much more for drinks and the pleasure of buying the lovely girls some drinks too.

Sounds great and it was but for one flaw, ugly people, old people, drunk people in fact most sub sections of the British nation would join the queue much to our annoyance. Now the obvious method you might think to get rid of them would be let them rot but this was never a starter, a Brit in a queue makes a Buddhist meditating Monk look like Vinny Jones with crabs in his pants. Just being rude sometimes worked. But the main tactic which we were deployed was free drink in another bar, which often resulted in the fights at 3am in the morning when everyone needed to settle up the tally on drink exchanges between the bars.

Yesterday morning I was collared by a elderly neighbour who sprinted 200 yards to inform me he had spent nearly two hours in a queue at the Tesco petrol station and I should make my way there ASAP before Armageddon kicked off. His wife joined us on her mobility scooter to verify the facts of the case. The pride in her husbands trials and tribulations was evident. Time was short so we all agreed that it was all the Governments fault, the TV and the Newspapers said so, so it must be true. The voxpops and images of hordes of cars outside petrol stations the breath of the land, like camels that have just crossed the Sahara at the first Oasis testament to the Panic duly reported.

You too can join the Queue this weekend, through sheer patriotism or some sort of defiance against officialdom. You can reminisce about the war, rationing and the like. You might come across a neighbour you have not spoken too for many years and of course the sunshine helps alas no more but the canopy of the filling station will protect you from the rain or maybe snow if you are still there on Tuesday. The grey clouds this Saturday will help with drumming up some of that all too rare bulldog spirit.

If you are fully loaded like me plus 3 jerrycans safely stored in the kitchen next to the hob (Maude you murdering bastard!) then maybe a trip to the Petrol station for a Ginsters Cornish pastie cooked to 40 degrees in the stations microwave with a follow on trip to the Queue at the local casualty deptarment to have your bottom lip sown back on. You can discus that soon only bankers, politicians and billionaires will soon be able to afford a pastie and the next trip to the bank is to get a mortgage to fill up the car.

So good luck Brition as you run like lemmings onto petrol beach as the politicians,bankers and Arabs shoot you down into a perforated Tetley tea bag (Three pound fifty for 80 at the petrol station... WTF! Tories obviously)

I salute you, I salute your indefatigability.

Dave sure is right about one thing, we are really all in this together.

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