
There are many big problems which confront us all in our daily lives; Covid, the cost of living, worrying about the grandkids’ future and what have you. We all have to bear with these stoically.
But sometimes it’s those little irritations which really drive you to distraction. Take today for instance. I’m not long back from a walk, and true to habit I stopped at a café for a cappuccino and a scone.
I walked up the counter to be greeted by ‘what can I get ya fella?’. Now being addressed as ‘fella’ by a weedy hipster with a man bun wasn’t a good start. He then compounded my annoyance by duly placing my order on the table and saying ‘there ya go dude. Enjoy’.
Sodding ‘fella’? ‘Dude’? I was fully expecting the cunt to complete a triumverate of shitty Americanisms by referring to me as ‘buddy’ when I went to pay. As it turned out, this was dealt with by a rather attractive young lady in an incredibly tight top, so all was not lost.
As I said at the outset, there are many big problems to worry us without getting wound up by trivia, but in this case I just can’t help it. I don’t know why, but this mode of address simply boils my piss. Call me ‘mate’, call me ‘pal’, just don’t call me fucking ‘dude’. This ain’t California.
I don’t know who’s the bigger twat; wannabe trendies who seem to think that it’s ‘cool’ to refer to me using these hackneyed Americanisms, or me for letting it get to me.
What a cunt.
Nominated by: Ron Knee
Seconded by Jeezum Priest:
I’d like to support this.
I find over familiarity offensive.
I’m Mr. Not mate, pal, buddy
Sis is also firm on this.
“Did you just call me love? Do you want your face to look like an Ordnance survey map?



