The local council is seriously pissing me off again.
A while ago I noticed someone had been having some fun with a tin of yellow paint, drawing circles and brackets with cryptic numbers out on the road. A few of these circles and brackets straddled spots where the road was crumbling a bit. Others seemed to be there for no reason whatsoever.
The following morning I was awoken at the ungodly hour of nine o’clock. A large machine was out on the road making horrible grinding noises. The council was out in force repairing potholes that in most cases weren’t even there. Fuck them.
For several mornings the same thing happened. They woke me every morning with their banging clattering and a grinding noise that sets my teeth on edge. I went down to the village on a few occasions and the road all the way down was covered in rectangular patches like some crazy patchwork quilt.
It finally reached the stage where every non-pothole and crack had been repaired and the road is now like a baby’s arse, albeit a rather mottled one. The job is done and we can all relax. I looked forward to a decent nights rest.
The road is like a fucking skating rink. It stands as a testament to all road repairs that don’t need doing and to the spending of unnecessarily vast sums that the council claims it doesn’t have.
And now I have to go out and pick at their scabs to regenerate a pothole or two.
There is nothing like a good deep pothole for slowing down the boy racers who tear past my gaff.