Keep Everything Off The Grass

Is there anything better than a picnic in the park on a sunny day? Yes, there is and I have made a short list of them.

1. Being shot dead in the face.
2. A mad dog finding out that your genitals are made of bacon.
3. Hitler coming back to life and marrying you.
4. Dragging your bloodied and battered body out of your wrecked car just in time to get hit by a tank.
5. Stand Up For The Week.
6. Your feet ending up in your arse.
7. Your birthday is Christmas Day and you only get one set of presents and you have liver failure.
8. Your teeth hitting a kerb.
9. You're on Death Row and, due to a terrible mix-up, they bring you a big statue of James Corden made out of solid, stinking cum instead of your final meal.
10. A man shouting "Dick" at you.

And that's just off the top of my head. A picnic in the park sounds like a great idea but it is ruined by other people having the same idea. All other people are cunts. You must remember that.

The last week has been beautiful, weather wise, and that has made every trip to the park a misery. When it is pissing with rain, a walk in the park is like...well...there isn't really a good enough simile for a walk in the park but all I can say is it's dead good. No-one is there. The park is empty and there isn't even a trace of anyone being there. It's just me, Jerk and grass. And loads and loads of rain. But I'd rather be soaked than have to walk through the park on a sunny day when it is full of cunts who fill the park with rubbish. Wherever you go it's sandwich wrappers, empty bottles, fucking discarded fried chicken boxes and, most disgusting of all, soiled nappies. Why the fuck do picnic people forget about bins? Why does the sun make us say FUCK OFF to courtesy? Are these cunts so dehydrated that they can't make it to the bin that's 6 cunting feet away from them? Are they so effected by the power of the sun that they have deluded themselves into thinking they're helping a fucking womble? I mean how are the drug addicts, alcoholics, cottagers and rapists supposed to enjoy their pastimes if you picnic loving Nazi's leave the place in a fucking state?

And it's a lot harder to enjoy a dog walk thanks to YOU. There is so much discarded food around that Jerk is on sensory overload. She can't believe her luck. THERE'S MEAT EVERYWHERE! She runs and wags her tail and eats death and then is completely confused when I tell her to drop what she's eating. It's food that is given to her by a thoughtless, evil cunt and taken away from her by a thoughtful, caring cunt. She knows she's not allowed it so instead she just stands in front of a thrown chicken bone or half a burger and stares at it. Dreaming of eating a dead animal. For ages.

What I can't understand is when I see an empty family bucket of fried chicken lying around. And I see them a lot. A family bucket of fried chicken is NOT a picnic. It just means that you're a lazy, bad parent outside. If there was a telly in a tree you'd be watching it and ignoring your unwanteds as normal. It changes nothing just being outside.

And don't think I haven't said to people about it. Last year I saw a family of, well, fucking bastard arseholes eating their KFC "picnic" and then packing up their blanket and leaving. With all their wrappers still on the grass. I quickly picked them all up, put them in the empty bucket and ran after the family. "You forgot this!", I said cheerily as if I'd done a good deed and felt all happy about it (which was the case). The man looked aggressively at me and said "What?"

"This is yours", I said. By this time he'd had a second to assess the situation. He could beat me up but not in front of his kids. So, he took the bucket.

"The bins over there", I said helpfully and completely sarcastically. His wife (I assume) said "Just put it in the bin over there, yeah?"

"Yes", I said.

"OK, thanks".

It was like the thought had never dawned on her to put rubbish in a bin before. Like she thought that if you leave rubbish there and walk away then it doesn't exist anymore. But she is stupid and I'm not. I know that she knows that you put rubbish in a bin. EVERYONE knows that. She and her husband (I'll let their kids off, they were very young) are just so utterly horrible that they feel it is their right to leave their shit wherever they feel like. Someone else can pick it up because I'm King 12-Inch and this is my wife Queen Brilliant and we are so fucking important that our rubbish is your problem, not ours.

Today, as I was leaving the park, I saw a woman get up from her picnic blanket and walk towards the bin with a soiled nappy. How refreshing, I thought. Someone who knows how to put waste away. She dumped it but it hit the side of the bin and fell to the ground instead. It was lying there right beside the bin and she looked at it, tutted and then walked away. The fucking cunt. My blood turned to lava.

"Can you pick that up and put it in the bin, please?", I said while trying my best not to punch her fucking useless face in.

She spun round like it was the most exhausting thing she'd ever done and, like a spoiled child or a Harry Enfield character, said "I was going to actually".

"Yeah, right", I said.

"Fuck off", she said in front of her child and baby.

At least I'm getting out and meeting people, I suppose. I did another preview of Pointless Anger, Righteous Ire last night with Robin Ince. He was excellent and I was shit. That's OK. It's a preview, I'm supposed to find out what I'm crap at and we certainly got very excited talking about new stuff and ways to improve the show. I'm really looking forward to Edinburgh. Especially as I'm going to be in a musical now too. Did I tell you that I'm going to be in a musical? Well, I bloody am.

www.michaellegge.info