NOBODY IN WINCHESTER

I had to write to the Council to get them stopped.  That riff raff from Southampton and other places always visiting.  They lowered the tone of the city, that’s what I said in my letter.  Staggering round the city half drunk; wearing hoodies and leggings or little boob tubes that left nothing to the imagination.  Let’s be rid of them, I said.  Thank goodness our wonderful City Council listened.

Unfortunately, I had to write again.  Students, everywhere, thousands of ‘em!  Faces buried in their smart phones as they stumbled through the city doing research on their dissertations.  Be gone!  I said and take your creative ideas and youthful exuberance with you.

The unemployed had to go as well, we can’t have scroungers here, they don’t pay their way and they do nothing for the economy.  Also, those people who work for a living, who do they think they are? - getting up at 6.30am, walking in clacky heels past my house or slamming their car doors to wake me up.  The insolence!  I suggested they go live elsewhere.

Who wants old people?  They deliberately go out during lunch times or rush hour when there’s lots of traffic on the road and hold everything up with their slow driving.  They’re not doing it because they are infirm let me tell you, they’re doing it to annoy.  Many a time I’ve been trying to walk quickly down the street into town and there’s some old blighter dawdling along in front of me, blocking the pavement.  I screamed at one old biddy to get out of the way, only for her to pretend to be deaf.  Then, when I gave her a good old shove, she dived like a Chelsea player in the penalty area and pretended to have hurt her hip.  Away with them!

Children, don’t get me started, luckily the Council was quick on the uptake there.  I told them exactly what I’d done with mine and they did the same - promptly packing them off to boarding schools in Kent.  Good riddance!

You may wonder what I’m writing to complain about now.  The thing is, there’s nobody in Winchester, except horse-faced, 4x4 driving, Aga mums like me and I can’t stand them...