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Obamarama

I’m so bored with the USA.

Especially the new president; Barack Obama is everywhere in the media at the moment.

Yes, he may be the most powerful man in the world and all that, but there are more important issues that we should be discussing.

For instance:

There is just too much mud in Derbyshire. Where does it all come from? Audrey and I return from our walks looking like monsters from the brown lagoon;

Why do the council recycling collection men always leave an empty baked bean can and a copy of someone else’s Sunday Mail in my recycling bin?;

Why don’t Converse make a size 91/2 baseball shoe? (Their size 9s are for midgets and their size 10s are for Yetties and circus clowns.);

Why does Mr Mishri’s wife keep calling me Steve? (‘My name is Davy.’ ‘Sorry, Steve.’);

Why aren’t there more catwalk models living in the village? – why aren’t there any catwalk models living in the village?;

Why does my fool of a stepfather urinate on the toilet seat when he comes to visit and blame it on ‘the dog’? (He doesn’t do this all the time, you understand; he is usually too busy secretly rummaging through my drawers and cupboards.)

Why do all the idiot muscle men with NY beanies and white trainers around here think it necessary to own a Pit Bull-type dog?;

Why were petrol-driven model cars and fireworks ever invented?

Why do all the pretty young women in nearby Mansfield turn out to be either pole-dancers or strippers? (At least it’s easy to tell them apart: strippers can spit further.);

Why, quite simply, are there not more hours in the day?

I could go on, but I’ve just lost the will to live. Again.

Somebody ought to be doing something about these things; I think they would make interesting news items – more interesting than Barack Bloody Obama, anyway.