Written by Gordon Aspey
28 June 2021
The sun was shining, birds were singing, bees were buzzing and the geraniums were adding a splash of crimson to the garden. As I sat eating my breakfast of prunes and marmalade toast I thought what a nice place the world can be.It was the sort of day William Wordsworth would have dashed into the countryside with pencil and pad to scribble a bit of poetry.
My first task of the day would be to collect my wife’s medication from the Pharmacy. There was scarcely any traffic because we were in lockdown.
Our trusty Kia Piccolo took only three minutes to poodle down to the pharmacy as opposed to the normal ten minute journey. Now I have to say, our local Pharmacy wouldn’t win any awards in the hurry up stakes. There is a sort of ambling, be with you in a sec approach that would leave people with urgent needs cross legged with frustration. We pensioners are less troubled.
The assistant wandered back and forth along the shelves looking for the prescription.Our name starts with the letter A and since all the shelves are marked in alphabetical order you might imagine the best plan would be to focus on the letter A. But who am I to question her process, maybe she’s into writing a bit of poetry.
Another thing that struck me was looking at the bulging shelves. People seem to be a lot sicker these days. When you consider the gargantuan cost of the NHS. Something isn’t working. I get the impression a lot of people almost demand to be sick. I reckon the prescriptions are the cause of much of today’s sickness.
I was mildly irritated when the assistant said “Sorry sir your medication hasn’t arrived, could you call back on friday?”
My mild irritation exploded into incandescent rage on discovering a parking ticket on our Piccolo.Seventy pounds is a big bite out of our modest pension. Times are hard.The road at this point is wide enough for a six lane motorway and our car would not have inconvenienced anybody. However the back wheels were on a yellow line. The man who paints the yellow lines obviously had a bit of paint left over and decided to wander a bit further or maybe he too was writing poetry. In any event it was a bitter pill to swallow.In contrast to the pharmacy assistant the fleet footed warden has olympic potential,he was nowhere to be seen. According to the ticket the time of sighting my vehicle and applying it to the windscreen took 3 minutes. Things didn’t improve when I returned home, I got a bollocking from the wife for being so stupid, as she put it.
Now I’m not a vindictive person but I needed to even things out a bit. So I fished out my book of curses, rag doll and pins from the attic. The sneaky ticket warden needed to experience a bit of discomfort himself. I liked the look of number 13, a spell that delivered erectile dysfunction. He would have the droop for six months. That would be good, wrecking his sex life. I also liked number 42, Hemorrhoids. Imagine that. Everytime he sticks a ticket on a car he gets a shooting pain in his bum. I think I’ll give him both barrels. I have every confidence in these spells.
The one I did on Jeremy Corbyn worked a treat in the last election. Of course I can’t claim full credit, but I certainly put the blocks on his progress.
If you feel aggrieved at the treatment you have received from someone and would like me to put the mockers on them, go to my shop. All you need to do is buy something. “eh! – well I’m not a flaming philanthropist”. You put their name at the bottom of your order and I will get a text message with a 4 digit code. I enter the code in my spell chamber and say the magic word which will activate the process. I can’t guarantee a 100% success rate due to interference from the cosmos , radio waves and other technical complications. But I guarantee you will like your purchase or I will refund your money in full. God – I’m feeling better already.