Dressed for the beach ... to shop?

I know the summer's ending (what summer?) but I've got to get this little thing off my chest.

Maybe it stems from an inherent sense of optimism, that so many of us Brits see the tiniest glint of sunlight on a Saturday morning and immediately grab our shorts and t-shirts.

Now I've nothing against optimism; in fact, I wish I had more of it. But do these people really have to stick on their skimpy beachwear ... to go shopping? In vast indoor shopping centres with modern, efficient air-conditioning. In huge supermarkets, chilled (way too efficiently) to give the fruit and veg an extra day or two of shelf-life. Why oh why do these blokes wander around in their shorts, vests & sandals? Why do the women do likewise? I half expect to see some of them lay out a mat and a beach towel outside Starbucks or Tie-Rack, or in the pet food isle in Tesco, and read the paper.

Not only does it not make sense (for they must be freezing half of the time), but it's another example of modern Brits looking a bloody mess; not caring about their appearance; not maintaining a sense of decency.

And it's really not a pleasant sight for the rest of us. When we're in the privacy of our own back garden, fine. When we're sharing a beach or hotel pool on our well-earned holidays on the Costas or wherever, we're all in the same boat and it's forgiveable. After all, beachwear is, well, for the beach. But when we're simply out doing some weekend shopping, have a little pride, people.

I know this issue doesn't actually hurt anyone but it's yet another symptom of falling standards. You know it's right.

Nail bars ...

Nail bars ... what the hell is that all about?

Springing up on every corner of every high street, or in the back rooms of hair salons throughout the land. Bloody nail bars.

Nail bars. Where stupid young women spend their hard-earned having tiny angels or Disney characters painted/transferred onto their finger-nails, so they can compare and compete with the girls in the office. Or where stupid older women spend their husbands' hard-earned having square-ended, plastic white talons glued onto their finger-ends, so they can compare and compete with the girls at the tennis club (where, of course, they can't actually play tennis for fear of breaking their expensive new nails!)

"Ooh, what do you fancy this week, Cheryl? Winnie the Pooh, Tigger, the Union Jack? Or what about something more topical like the Olympic Rings? Or if you're feeling really daring, you know, a bit out there, why not have marijuana leaves? Go on. I dare you. ... That'll be £45 please. ... Same time next week?"

So, girls, you can't live without your nails, eh? Well, what did you do before? Oh, I remember, you painted them yourselves with a pretty pink polish from Boots costing less than a quid and coming in a vast array of colours and finishes.

The simple truth ... you've been sold the idea that it's normal by the so-called style mags and celebs and now you're being ripped off ... it's time to fight back ... you know it's right.

Die younger, smokers ...

They say smokers die younger. Well that's absolutely fine by me. Less time for them to hang around polluting the atmosphere for the rest of us.

It sounds trite, I know, but I just don't "get" smoking. Not on the massive scale it's still practised around the world. It's not as if it just might give you a sore throat, or the occasional extra cold or bout of flu. Smoking kills. And not even a short, sharp kill, like a lightning strike. A long, painful, ugly drawn-out death which, frankly, were it not for the millions of pounds in public health expense it costs the rest of us, I'd say "Ha, ha, ha. Serves you damn well right, you absolute tossers!"

And not only are these tossers killing themselves, they're paying through the nose to do it. A fiver for a single packet of 2o. Ha! A packet a day, that's the best part of £150 a month. Suckers!

Smoking isn't even the preserve of uneducated people. Lawyers, doctors and other so-called professionals, men and women with intellect and intelligence, are just as guilty. There's no way they can say they don't understand the risks, or they lead such a shitty life that smoking is all they've got. They have no excuses. It's pathetic.

The ban on smoking in enclosed spaces (recently enacted in the UK) couldn't come soon enough for me. But why not ban it in all public places? Not just enclosed spaces. I only have a ten minute walk from the station to my workplace but it's like running the bloody gauntlet every morning. I now have to zig-zag across the street, risking rush hour traffic as I do so, to avoid all the huddles of dirty buggers puffing away by their office steps or entrances, their clouds of poisonous smoke hanging over the pavement. Why should we have to put up with that? (It's rhetorical, btw, because we shouldn't). And to cap it all they leave their fag butts on the pavement too!

So, there's my little rant on the evil weed. Smokers die younger. Great! It's no more than they deserve ... you know it's right.