P**s off

Another morning, another idiot p***ing outside my front door. I hope he wet himself as I shouted out. Hey hoe. All peaceful at the lido #

*sigh*

Oh dear, So yep, it seems that the Police Dispersal Zone around my little patch of South London has yet to deal with the idiots that treat my front door as a public toilet. Leaving the house early morning, and being greeted by some fool mistaking my fence as a public convenience, has to be the highest form of anti-social behaviour.

There’s no other word for describing the selfish urinater, other than as an animal. It’s as simple as that – displaying all the behaviour and instinct of pure flesh and no cognitive ability to streamline a barely working conscious. If had a gun, I would have put a bullet up his backside. The dirty dog.

Others around me have looked towards the wider picture, repeating the rhetoric (and then some…) that @lambeth_council are to blame for such crude behaviour. Not so. BIG organisations can’t be expected to manage every action within public life.

It’s time to take some personal responsibility for both yourself, and your immediate environment. I can’t conceive of any situation where urinating in public is necessary. I would sooner wet myself, and then deal with the situation in private back at base.

Whilst applauding the efforts of @lambeth_council with the PDZ, I have had to take other matters in my own hands of late to disperse some street drinkers who decided to shift from the street to my front fence. I introduced them to the rather wonderful first Billy Bragg album, played out at full volume from my front window.

The Boy Bragg didn’t go down too well with the Red Stripe booze crew. So much so that they returned in the early hours and pelted my fence with eggs. I won’t be asking if they want Uncle Bill being put on their iPods.

But as for the animal urinaters? The Boy Bragg is too good for them. I let out a rather loud “for f-sake,” as I wheeled my Moulton out this morning, on route to the lido. A bucket of water awaits the next social hermit who happens to urinate outside my front door.

P***ed off.

(Oh yeah, Palfrey Place is full of crap. Again.)

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