Internet Etiquette – The Bay Radio Rant

Here’s last week’s rant folks. Don’t forget you can hear it live twice a week on BayRadio – The Sunset Strip with Noelle 9.30pm on Friday nights, and The Sunday brunch with Noelle and Bob around 11.30am. But for those of you otherwise engaged, you can always check in here at Want some Moore??! and listen to all my rants at your leisure. I thought I’d accompany this particular entry with an illustration that perfectly encapsulates the essence of my rant, a theory first postulated by  Mike Krahulik:

Says it all, huh?   (In fact, come to think of it, it comes dangerously close to describing me! hahaha!) To listen to my rant just click on the player below, and to listen to BayRadio anytime, just click on the LISTEN LIVE icon.

Don’t forget to listen this Friday, 2nd. December, when I turn my sights on English tourists in Spain!

Kev Moore

The Unbearable wrongness of Swimming

BEWARE: People like this could be in YOUR pool.....

So, there I was. I go there every day. The swimming pool. Sanctuary for the soul. It’s calm waters soothing me as the Spanish sunlight gentle kisses the barely unruffled surface. Mostly.

I can deal with the classes of stupidly loud children, because they are usually shepherded out prior to them drowning themselves. I also have a pet nutter, who unfortunately contrives to get changed exactly when I do, and, following a total mis-communication about my body lotion some weeks back, has taken to calling me ‘Mr. Chocolate’ – often when others are in the changing room, which could lead to potentially embarrassing situations. Or death.  I tried to ignore him, but one day made the mistake of talking to an English guy (the nutter is Spanish) and he proceeded to speak incredibly loudly, stamping his feet and clapping his hands. He was like an entire Salvation Army band on speed. It seems then that Spain has opted for care in the community…..

Anyway, he’s calmed down a little of late, and I now lock myself in the disabled shower room and get showered, dried and dressed before making a beeline for the exit, and thereby managing to avoid eye-contact.  But onward to my gripe.

Today, I was happily swimming away in the only free lane, languidly scooping the water aside with my hugely impressive breast-stroke stylee, when an older lady had the temerity to enter the water and begin to use MY LANE AT THE SAME TIME!!!!  What kind of bare-faced intimidation was this? I asked myself (but only in my head, fearful of swallowing a huge amount of water in which 50 small children had recently been rinsed.)

Now, being a fair-minded sort of individual, I gave this person the benefit of the doubt, as there were no completely free lanes, but as she entered the water, the lane next to me in which one of the lifeguards appeared to have been torturing several young boys by making them retrieve rubber hoops from the pool bottom time and again, suddenly became free.  It remained free, as the elderly lady made her way down my lane. I swam a further three lengths with my ill-matched and unwanted partner, giving her the chance to move her arse next door. She did not do so. The temerity!

There was I, totally outstripping this flounderer in the twilight of their lives, and I  had to make the lane change for fear of becoming lost in a tangle of underwater wrinkles. How can this be?  Why do these people need a full-length pool anyway? By the time they get to the other end, we’ve put the clocks back.  On the other side of the pool, a lifeguard-ess, barely out of secondary school is making more old women move incredibly slowly underwater to the beat of music they plainly detest. (In fairness, so do I)

The thing is, these women never change. they stay fat, they stay old, and they don’t appear to get any fitter, so what is it all for? Are they pretending they’re in outer space? I’ll contribute to re-introducing the space shuttle to put them there. then they can swim to their hearts content.

Kev Moore

I’m fed up to the back teeth……

…and now, you, the great unwashed are gonna hear about it. I’ve decided that my myriad of other blogs are not suited to my occasional rants where I attempt to put the world to rights, re-invent the wheel and spontaneously combust, often in a different order. So here is the place to get the low down on my strife and the things that get my immaculately manicured panties in a bunch. Just DON’T GET ME STARTED. Well, okay, you can actually get me started because I’ve got an opinion, it’s loaded and I’m not afraid to use it. So don’t expect any lily-livered, woolly liberal minded politically correct bollocks on here, because it’s not going to happen. This is where my spleen, although I’m not sure of it’s actual location vis a vis my body, is vented.

So move right on down to the first topic to incur my wrath, Lentils and Geraniums……..

No, not HERE you idiot, IN THE NEXT POST!  God, do I have to do EVERYTHING?????