Article last updated : 10/01/2010
A Master at Work!
Our Christmas Room 101 has certainly got people talking and made us realise that are some spectaculalry grumpy people about - in a nice way of course!
To enjoy a real master moaner at work have at look at the excerpt below that is taken from a piece Jeremy Clarkson wrote about leaving the UK to live somewhere else. It's priceless.
You canít go to France because you need to complete 17 forms in triplicate every time you want to build a greenhouse.
And you canít go to Switzerland because you will be reported to your neighbours by the police and subsequently shot in the head if you donít sweep your lawn properly, and you canít go to Italy because youíll soon tire of waking up in the morning to find a horseís head in your bed because you forgot to give a man called Don a bundle of used notes for organising a plumber.
You canít go to Australia because itís full of things that will eat you, you canít go to New Zealand because they donít accept anyone who is more than 40 and you canít go to Monte Carlo because they donít accept anyone who has less than 40 mill. And you canít go to Spain because youíre not called Del and you werenít involved in the Walthamstow blag. And you canít go to Germany ... because you just canít.
The Caribbean sounds tempting, but there is no work, which means that one day, whether you like it or not, youíll end up like all the other expats, with a nose like a burst beetroot, wondering if itís okay to have a small sharpener at 10 in the morning. And, as I keep explaining to my daughter, we canít go to America because if you catch a cold over there, the health system is designed in such a way that you end up without a house Or dead.
Canadaís full of people pretending to be French, South Africaís too risky, Russiaís worse and everywhere else is too full of snow, too full of flies or too full of people who want to cut your head off on the internet. So you can dream all you like about upping sticks and moving to a country that doesnít help itself to half of everything you earn and then spend the money it gets on bus lanes and advertisements about the dangers of salt But wherever you go youíll wind up an alcoholic or dead or bored or in a cellar, in an orange jumpsuit, gently wetting yourself on the web. All of these things are worse than being persecuted for eating a sandwich at the wheel.
I see no reason to be miserable. Yes, Britain now is worse than itís been for decades, but the lunatics whoíve made it so ghastly are on their way out. Soon, they will be back in Hackney with their South African nuclear-free peace polenta. And instead the show will be run by a bloke whose dad has a wallpaper shop and possibly, terrifyingly, a twerp in Belgium whose fruitless game of hunt the WMD has netted him £15m on the lecture circuit.