C**** With Umbrellas
February 7th 2008 02:44
IT’S WET in Sydney and every goof-off dingbat (except me) is wielding an umbrella.
Except for personal use, I disapprove of umbrellas, they’re pricks of things.
See, it’s almost impossible to move through pedestrian traffic when every second person has their huge tent-like golf brolly extended so you can’t get round the person, and they can’t tell that you’re there.
Even when the street is mostly covered with awnings, and there’s little chance of getting wet, the umbrella fiend will have their stinking brolly up.
Umbrellas are the major cause of blindness in this country, along with masturbation and carrot deficiency.
Umbrellas are status symbols too. Like the blowhard businessman who simply must own an imposing four-wheel drive instead of a sensible coupe, the brolly bandit chooses a canopy the size of a parachute.
What are they afraid of anyway, a few drops of water?
Are they Poms?
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