
Recently I was part of a team doing demolition work at the airport (bat flu has made the shops shut) before commencing work we had to register, provide photo ID, get passes and go through security scans.
Fair enough. The staff are private contractors, not customs the majority of which were difficult to understand heavily accented foreigners and with a few exceptions (low caste colonial Indians) are officious power tripping tin Jesus types.
Having a bushy beard they singled me out (good thing I wasn’t wearing a tea cosy). When registering my tools and having to remove my boots they had a conniption, a hammer, Stanley knife, pocket knife and here’s the kicker a carpenter’s hatchet, a most useful tool that also makes me feel a bit like good King Robert.
After convincing them they were necessary to the task they saw fit to gripe about the small bottle of Worcestershire in my bag, I’m not going on an aeroplane says I and I needs it to kill the taste of foreign muck I’m often forced to endure for lunch, no, were having it I even had to let them empty out my water bottle.
So after an hour we began work and after filling bins taking them out emptying them into a large skip and going through the screening process again. After the third time after emptying my pockets and removing my boots I walked through the scanner at which point some foreign bint screeched at me unintelligibly and the rotund dwärf that was trying to chat her up (he had no chance)
instead of being at his station waddled over wagging his finger at me saying “this is not a self service area”. I had to hold my tongue as these cunts have no sense of humour and could only think of Papa Lazorou saying “this is a saga now”.
For my impertinence I was made to go through the metal detector again, the body scanner again, get felt up rather roughly again (buy me a drink first), and get wiped over for traces of narcotics and explosives again.
You’ve rumbled me thought I, 275 years of plotting the third Jacobite rebellion from our secret base in Perth (West Oz) ruined. Five hours of work and three of arsing about for four days.
What a fucking tea ceremony, never again.
Nominated by: Shackledragger cunt