If you are not theatrical enough to get out of jury duty, you will have to swear a solemn oath when you are allocated to a trial. The bible is the default option, so most people will pick that book of fairly tales and promises of ever lasting life. Some jurors originally from warmer climates will pick an equally retarded religious book.
This will immediately tell you who the fuckwits are who are swayed by shit evidence, group think, and magical thinking. These idiots should be kicked off the premises, leaving the atheists and those incapable of making picking a god, possibly because of the wide number available.
That way we might get jury verdicts where the evidence of one person who said it happened isn’t going to cut it, and reduce the number of miscarriages of justice that occur.
Stay with me, this tenuously goes somewhere.
The lettuce in the fridge was out of date. There were 2 bags of plant matter; one had a best before date of 30/5/2017, the other 6/6/2017. Not wanting to be the prick who leaves someone else with the old lettuce, I took the old bag. Opened it up… bleh, moist and decaying.
So this pisses me off, that’s £1 down the toilet. That another period of time I have to sit in some office working, instead of sitting on a sunny balcony reading. So let’s stop this happening again I think and imagine the following rules:
- Only I buy the lettuce – my inventory management skill set will avoid such issues. But then I have to go to the shops when I can’t be arsed and everyone else has to ask me for lettuce? Nah.
- Only buy one bag of lettuce at a time. That will reduce the risk, but I guess sometimes we might need two bags? Maybe.
- Only buy lettuce with a few days leeway on the best before date. Impractical. You take what you can sometimes.
Then I told the Mrs, she expressed regret, and I suspect we will both be slightly less enthusiastic about buying lettuce, to reduce the risk of it happening again. Sure, it might happen again, but I’m not going to lose any sleep over it.
If the Tories had this problem, say a few days before an election, they would vow to enshrine all of the above in law, in a vain attempt to stop lettuce-gate happening again. Relax, you just need to accept that bad things happen and don’t trample on anyone’s liberty to buy lettuce.
Having been dubiously informed that half the people in Athens are divorced, I came across the following exciting wikipedia entry, which although proclaiming to list the divorce marriage ratio, actually lists how much of a backwards shithole your country is.
Let’s take a look at some of the countries with a divorce rate of less than 10%: Libya, Bahamas, Tajikistan, Syria.
First off Libya – now ruled by militias, because the UK helped bomb the government into dust. Trash a government, and the AK-47 wielding unemployed youth get all uppity. Who knew?
Bahamas – high murder rate, awful cooking.
Tajikistan – any country ending with “stan” is terrible.
Syria – used to be quite nice until we supported the terrorists against the government and turned the place into another shithole. Again. Sorry about that. Please don’t stab me in the street. I didn’t personally do it, although I did pay taxes to help, so I guess I am to blame a little. Thinking about it, maybe this is UK economic policy. Ruin other countries, to make ours look good.
But I didn’t mean to slag off British foreign bombing policy, I meant to say this:
Men generally don’t need to bother with divorce, it costs us a fortune, lowers the chance of a decent breakfast, and we know after a good argument with the Mrs we will get brilliant make up sex. Nice. So only a woman who is truly sick and tired of her husbands bullshit will get divorced. But if your country isn’t really a fan of the whole “woman as humans” concept then chances are she won’t have a job, her signature is worth less than her husbands, and good luck having your own bank account with anything in it.
So nations where woman *can and do* get divorced, are obviously more civilised.
I did consider the aspect that superb childhood education will teach adults to live together in blissful, respectful harmony, and maybe Libya just has some incredible schools, but then I punched myself in the face for such a stupid thought.
Also, top divorce rate at 71% – Belgium.
Back in the 1970’s, when you could blame your ever present level of smouldering violence on the lead in petrol, there were collectable cards included when you bought a box of tea bags. In the halcyon days before the government essentially introduced prohibition via oppressive regulation, and all you smokers caved in because apparently you don’t have a problem with having to smoke outside the pub in the rain like a tramp, you’d also get them in your smooth smoking, richly flavoured cigarettes too.
You’d nag your mum to get the brand with the cards, because who gives a shit about the specific taste of a variety of dead leaves when their are colourful, delightfully drawn cards to collect?
Since then, printing technology has improved, costs have decreased and these cards have disappeared. So now I have to stare at a mobile phone at breakfast to avoid talking to whoever else is in the room, instead of reading the compact, life enriching, educational, inspiring prose on the backs of these cards.
Let’s bring them back, you could make them stickers too (stickers which teachers now use as a substitute to having to verbally reward kids: kid didn’t shit themselves today – sticker. Kid didn’t stab desk mate with a compass – sticker) and I could hang around at school gates with the believable pretence of “swapsies”.
Unilever and British American Tobacco have been emailed for comment.
Here is a great business model, based on middle class guilt, the willingness of mothers to waste money, and their ability to convince fathers to waste money:
- Find a parent who has a child at a decent school, you may use; median income, number of name brand trainers, or general colour of the kids as a guide for this.
- Host a free birthday party for that kid and 30 other screeching tykes they get to invite, supply the event location, treat bags including a flyer for your company which organised all this, a malevolent looking clown and the opportunity to buy 3 photos for £15, because parents lose all sense of perspective when a piece of paper with their brats particular visage is waved in front of them. Feel free to use shitty pigments that fade after a week, you won’t get called on it.
- Wait for further business to come rolling in as the invited kids parents realise they are obliged to join in this fuckwitted chain reaction of kids parties you have started.
- When you get sick and tired of this nonsense, announce you will similarly corrupt the concept of “names days” to double your prospective business, wait for the share price to jump, then bail and start a restaurant or principality where children are not allowed.