Failed. Again

Once again I seem to have failed my driving test. To a lesser man this would seem like a setback, but not to me, in my blinkered arrogance and sheer bloody pig headedness.

Even now that I have failed for the 3rd time I am not for one moment thinking that I shouldn’t ever be allowed on the road, even though under normal circumstances the only people who should take this long to pass are old ladies or spacktards… (for those interested I failed on 2 counts-I had a problem with the gears that meant I nearly stalled and my signal came off when I was on a roundabout. And I’m fairly sure neither of these would have happened if I hadn’t been really, really pissed. Also, there is new EU legislation now that means you have to stop for tramps now. it's one of those "Stealth Taxes" I think).

Instead I get driven around by my partner (who passed first time on the day I failed for the third time, bless her). Over the weekend we went to York, which was mercifully free of fat fucking Americans for once. It really is an inbred, insular horrible little town you know, despite all this spurious “Merrie England” nonsense in the city centre.

You can’t go past a pub without being lured in to try “Ye Finest Hammes, Pyes and Ales in ye Whole of Christendom- Est the year of our Lord 1456” only to find when you get in that all they have is Carling Premier, Nobby’s Nuts and a fucking Australian behind the bar.

I think it’s about time that if we have to but up with all this Olde English stuff it should at least be honest and realistic history rather than the normal round of Ghost Walks and Jorvik museum (which is indistinguishable from the outer suburbs of York anyway. Although I once watched 2 chavs who were driving past me in a car stop the car in the middle of the road to have a fight without bothering to get out of the car when I was in York. I bet even the Vikings weren’t that fucking stupid).

You never pick up leaflets from tourist information that pick up something of the real flavour of York and say:

“Welcome to the City of York’s Yearly Heretic Burning Festival, where in times past the citizens of York used to rise up and slaughter all the Filthy Jews, and hang their heads all around a wall as a warning to outsiders. And if any of the fucking Catholics tried to stop them, they’d cut off their fucking hands, the papist bastards.”

Tip of the day- Trains to York are cheap and frequent throughout the summer, and many of the American Tourists found there are ideal test audiences for any jokes about 9/11 you may have thought up.