So it came to this: after months of inaction and sitting idly looking at my computer, not being arsed to write because if I put the computer at my desk then I am not connected to the internet (courtesy of the shitty router provided Orange) and so can’t search for funny pictures, films and witty writing (i.e. porn) while I am meant to be contributing to something I am paying for. So what broke the silence? Something that for reasons I can’t fathom, because it really makes so angry, I have not talked about before.

It’s Tesco and more precisely, Tesco Bishopsgate. Since it opened I have never any better than disappointed when I have visited, sometimes I have been apoplectic with rage at its ineptness. And I am not the only one; I have spoken to neighbours who have expressed the same level indignation at this shithouse excuse for a supermarket. They were all over 60 mind you.

This time it was new the packaging for the newly sized chorizo they sell, but there’s a fuckload of things wrong with it. From those stupid self-service machines that now require as many staff to make it work as could be working fucking tills. The fact that it only has two freezers and it stocks neither oven chips or ice cream in them (two things that my local Costcutter, that is bloody ace by the way, always has in its freezer) and that it never, in all the time it has been open, been able to sell me coriander after 5pm on weekday – why can’t you just buy more you fuckwits!

But mainly my hatred stems from the shop itself having a vendetta against me, no really. Don’t ask me how it knows, it just does, but it seems to be able find out what I want to cook for dinner and remove the key ingredient before I arrive. I have come to believe that it’s bit like the Overlook in The Shining, it has some supernatural power that utilises for evil to stop me making a broad bean and feta fritatta.

And if I am making stir-fry they’ll be out of the black-bean sauce , if it is burritos then they’ll be out of tortilla wraps or if it’s an omelette they’ll be out of eggs. What sort of supermarket runs out eggs for fuck’s sake? One time I needed cumin seeds and I worked out that that was the only spice in their range they didn’t stock. There wasn’t even gap where it should be and according to Wikipedia it’s the second most popular spice in the world after black pepper. So why don’t they have any?

What I should do, is what I keep telling myself to do and always end up doing is going to Waitrose. Saying that, I went to the one at John Lewis today (flagship fucking store I’ll have you know) needing cheap tomato sauce. And what was the only condiment they didn’t stock in their essential range? That’s right, tomato bloody sauce. See, they’re all in on it. Colluding to prevent me having what I want for my tea. Bastards.

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Today I heard the most wonderful news, my prayers had been answered and I though that rest of my day would feel like I was sitting in chair made of clouds that was surrounded by kittens to nibble at my feet. That’s right, that Zelda from Terrahawks faced, sycophantic silly bitch that has tortured my weekday mornings, Jo Whiley has been removed from her morning slot on Radio 1. No longer will I have to listen to her get so far up some band’s arse she needs a snorkel, go on and on about how amazing some new tune is and then slag them all off when it’s no longer cool. That’s right fuck off grandma; let someone actually new, exciting and funny be on the BBC’s groovy and happening radio station that the kids all like.

So Auntie who’s the replacement? Some one that represents Britain’s young in the modern digital age? Someone that is down with it, but also eloquent and witty? No. It’s Fearne fucking Cotton. I hate to use this phrase, but talk about from frying pan into the fire. I had the misfortune to have to listen to her all the way home in the car while travelling home from North of England on Sunday. During this journey I was very seriously contemplated asking Miss Rant to rip my ears off and stuff them up my arse so that I would no longer have to her inane drivel. I know that you might suggest that I changed the channel, but that would have meant local radio, and there’s only so many times you can hear someone bleat on about the wheelie bin problem.

Anyhoo, in mild celebration of the Whiley’s demise, here is Lily Allen giving Jo what for in the only way she knows how. I liked Lily before I saw this, and now I love her so much I would happily crawl through a barrel full broken glass just pick the peanuts out of her shit.

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I know, it’s been a long time since I have posted, this is due to a lifestyle change for My1MinuteRant, and so I have been of a sunnier disposition lately. But thanks to my father and his lack of anger management, I am back with his rant about people telemarketing him offering free training. It is in some way Government funded, which gets him all Daily Mail (his mother will be proud) about wasting money trying to get people back to work. I have to say that it really doesn’t make much sense, Pops you could really do with a script next time you do one of these. You know, with a beginning, middle and end type thing. Also, what the fuck is a ‘piss sip’, I’ll ask and get back to you. Lastly the irony of the man asking who if there is anyone under 50 who doesn’t know how to use a PC, then walks off with the camera still running. He is 61 I’ll grant you, but he does have previous form of him undoing his rant by conveniently missing out a detail that negates his point.

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I just needed to get that out, you know, like when you’re really desperate for  a wee. All the way home on the bus, I was thinking you self-righteous cow. I wouldn’t mind if I was a repeat offender, but this was the first (and now only) time that I forgotten to give that shitty token in. Bring back the card operated lockers  we used to have, the ones we liked remember, and none of this would have happened. Anyway I have one of those little pound replacement tokens that you use in supermarket trolleys now. That’ll show her.

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For a man short in stature and even shorter on temper it, always concerned me whether it was a good idea for his health to enter the service industry. My point is vindicated by this rant and his lack of patience with less the observant customers.  If you wish to witness him lose his rag first hand, get yourself along to the Town Mill Bakery. Then all you have to do is ask for marmalade with your toast  (expect some sort of grumbling response about there being no orange groves in Dorset) or the music to be turned down.  Ooh, a personal favourite of mine, ask for ketchup with anything. That really pisses him off.

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We’re all for a bit of quirkiness round here, so here we have something a bit different by Joseph Morpurgo. At this point I should start talking enthusiastically about how this video has been directly influenced by revered filmmaker D. A. Pennebaker, going on to talk about how his work changed documentary filmmaking by shooting with a hand-held camera, eschewing voice-over narration and interviews in favor of the portrayal of actual events. But I like Michael Bay films with cars, beautiful women and explosions and beautiful women who like cars and explosions. So what the fuck do I know?

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At last someone who is really angry ‘bout some shit! It’s Nick Hutton, the Treasurer for Campaign against Climate Change and he gets angrier as he goes on. What’s really impressive is that this was done in one take and lasted (well close to anyhoo) exactly a minute, complete with catch phrase to sign-off. Nick, if you see this and wish to do another rant? Get in touch, because we’d simply love to have you on again.

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