Before I start this piece I must point out that it is not my intention to offend any individuals or make particular comment on any of their conditions. The only condition I wish to make comment on is the over-riding mood of the times. However, if you are not broadminded enough to accept honest, adult, views, then tough.

I originally planned to write a small piece on the topic of compensation culture and the plague that it has spawned, but an article I read in several newspapers last week has hastened me to forget about quality control and just let myself vent.

The article in question related to a lady who has sued her local health service for several million pounds for an ambulance crew failing to arrive in sufficient time to aid her. The reason she needed aid? Because she had taken an overdose (a small cocktail by all accounts) with the admitted purpose of wishing to commit suicide. As the ambulance took ‘too long’ to arrive, although the crew admirably managed to save her life, due to the delays she has suffered irreparable brain damage and is now severely disabled. The result of her claim? She won. Approximately £2.8 million by all accounts. Normally I like to think my literary skills are quite good and I can express myself with a nice array of differing words. However, on this occasion the only words that spring to mind are – what the f*ck?

Lets get this straight – she wanted to commit suicide. I’ve looked this up in the dictionary, so I’m quite certain of my facts and interpretation on the meaning of this: To take ones own life. Hmm. So to sue the health service whose dedicated professionals try their absolute hardest to attend to all sorts of problems and accidents day in day out – usually with scant recognition – who unfortunately failed to save this ungrateful woman’s life by failing to arrive ‘in time’ sums up the very worst end of the spectrum. Now I know what you are thinking, that I’m being insensitive to this woman’s plight. And yes, if anybody who I loved dearly were in the same situation I would be distraught and wish to seek answers to all of the unanswerable questions – and be fair-minded about it. But these days, suing seems to be an automatic reaction. People appear to have got it into their heads that everybody else is to blame, and never themselves.

At the very ‘trivial’ end of the scale we have those appallingly amateur and laughable TV adverts for claims companies. I ask you people who greedily issue writs and damages claims – exactly WHY was it NOT YOUR FAULT that YOU DID NOT LOOK where you were going when you slipped up? And since when did something that was a result of your inability to be aware become the fault of the council, or your employer or whoever it may be? Accidents happen, human error inevitably occurs. Unfortunately mistakes are made and not every single drop of liquid, slightly jagged paving slab, loose railing or whatever it may be can be monitored 24 hours a day. If you were to drop a plate on your foot at home, which had precariously been balanced in the cupboard, would you withdraw £2000 from the bank and sue yourself? Why not? If your logic is correct then you were the negligent one and deserve to be held accountable. No? Didn’t think so. Shit happens, get over it, get on with life and stop looking for someone else to blame for every little thing that doesn’t quite work out.

On a more important level, the area of sexual discrimination cases swirls around my angry brain like an angry hurricane threatening to tear up everything in its path. Now, I know we cant always believe what we read in the papers, but I’m sure you will agree the main nuggets of truth shine though, especially when they are taken from a court case. I’ve lost count of the amount of so-called sexual discrimination cases I’ve seen in the press and on the media over the last few years. I will gladly provide my full moral backing to those rare few which I have seen that are truly despicable and amount to practical verbal assault and battery. No one should be subjected to something as bad as that. But a few tit jokes? Personal hygiene quips? Comments on female stereotypes from a group of men? Questions about the size of your manhood? Grow up. I go to work too. I also went to school. I’ve been on the receiving end of innumerable jokes or sarcastic comments about my weight, my sexual orientation (‘straight with a twist’ according to my girlfriend), my courage, my penis size, my glasses, my eyebrows, my hygiene and so on. I’ve been the butt of untrue rumours started as ‘humorous’ fun, and of emails and gossip. Who hasn’t? But to go to court and claim that petty jibes like this have ruined your life? Why didn’t you just leave? Tell them to shut up, even. If it was that disturbing – why did it take months and months and months to remain working there and then ‘scar’ you? If you are sat in a pub or cinema and the language or comments are too much for you – you leave, or change seats. Why should other people change their language or humour or things they have been doing without any complaint for probably years, just because you don’t fit in with it. And to claim millions and millions of pounds? The job only paid about £30,000. Even to claim a million pounds, that is making a statement that you would have worked there for over 35 years! Not likely. Especially seeing as it was pretty obvious you didn’t fit in there…do you think everyone else who worked there didn’t have the same kind of jibes? Doubtful.

My point in all of this is that –

YES there are some horrendous miscarriages of justice.
YES there are some appalling laxes in judgement, errors and faults.
YES, sometimes it is appropriate to sue and purveyors of bad practice or truly malicious ways need to be cut down to size.

But to grow into a society with an habitual reaction to sue for as much money as possible – and generally way in excess of anything that remotely equates to true equal recompense – is testament to the times, The ‘must have everything’ culture. Responsibility for ones own actions is diminishing and its commonplace for it to always be somebody else’s fault. The greed that instils this belief in deserving something for nothing – more than you would ordinarily be entitled to.

The worst example of this in my book is the growth in personal injury claims – fuelled by those annoying TV adverts I mentioned earlier. In my mind, if somebody has left a ladder in an unsteady position, or a wet patch on the floor, or a jagged edge on the corner of a cupboard or display unit – it’s not intentional. It’s not with malice of forethought. It’s not deliberately negligent. It is down to one of the basest characteristics that humans have: Forgetfulness. It’s down to something that afflicts all of us: getting sidetracked with other things. Most of all, its just accidental.

Human nature.

What isn’t, or shouldn’t be human nature, is to castigate others for the same ‘failings’ we have.

Sadly, I fear I’m one of the few who is blunt enough to speak my mind on this.

I love shopping. I really do. All of those things to spend your hard earned money on. And I’m not even a girl. Well, apparently that’s debatable at times.

However, I hate shoppers with a passion normally reserved for cats. I hate those too.
What are they playing at? Shoppers that is, not cats. Actually, playing isn’t a bad word. I feel like I’ve been dropped into the middle of a computer game full of obstacles. Just like the silly pixilated people filling the screen and blocking your path, randomly changing direction and walking into you - so do the silly price fixated people on the high street. As if they have been spun around blindfolded, wound up, then dropped into the street… No sense of direction, just shooting around like ants scurrying for cover from a suddenly removed rock. Bastards.

Which is why I propose a curfew to aid those of us who actually have a purpose when we hit the streets. Amazing isn’t it, especially when trying to fit it into a works lunch hour.

If I wanted an assault course where pensioners, kids, mums and pushchairs pop up out of nowhere like silent assassins, Id sign up for an FBI training program and do their course! At least I’ve got the option then to shoot them…

So, in the interests of people all over who want to get from A to B without some pensioner suddenly immobilising themselves in front of you, or being ram raided by a triple seated pushchair carrying Takesha, Courtney, Connor – a curfew is the only possible solution.

It sounds harsh, I’m aware of that, but it’s for the best. I haven’t thought of all the details yet though. We should expand the congestion charging system to shoppers. At the entry to a town we need toll booths. Like a cross between the jail in ‘Face/Off’ and ice-skating, everyone has to hand in their shoes and receive a pair of magnetic boots, which lock down out of the allotted time zones. No entry outside of designated times – and if you are caught during these times, lockdown!

I’m sorry Doris dear, I’m sure the lovely checkout girl in Sainsburys is entranced by your tales of cataracts, Tiddles going off his food, and Brenda’s close win on the bingo. But not in front of me at 8 in the morning you don’t. I’ve got a bagel to buy and work to get to before it gets cold. So pensioners – make the most of the fact you have nothing to do all day by NOT getting up when most people are going to bed. Have a lie in. Listen to Wogan. Curb the urge to mass around supermarkets and post offices, menacing people with your shopping trolleys and comatosing them with your ‘anecdotes’. Incidentally, how do you find the strength to haul around those ten tonne tartan terrors, yet need my hand to help you cross the road? Astounding.

And you too, mummies. Yes, its marvellous the technology they put into pram making these days, but lets face it – it’s a chair with wheels to sit a little chubby wet child in. I know you are obsessed with 4 x 4’s for your school run, but you don’t need to extend it to what amount to off road prams. Those fuckers are huge! And bloody dangerous. And you moan about the dangers of traffic…what about the danger to my shins and toes?! I’m sorry, but padded tanks are definitely out of the question any time between 12 and 2. Do it before, after all, This Morning really can’t be all that engrossing?

That also goes for all of the loitering teenagers. Enrol at college, or actually turn up, get a job, or do something constructive. I don’t need to navigate around a great flock of gobbing, smoking, Burberry sheep every time I need to enter the newsagent. Besides, why tease yourself every day in front of shops selling things you’ll never afford unless you learn to read and write and get a job. I’m pretty certain you didn’t actually buy those Nikes and Fubu you’re wearing. Not with an earned wage anyway.

I could go on, but I’m sure you get the point.

Of course, some may say that there is a more simple solution to this problem – but I don’t think it’s workable. Common sense and the ability to look where you are going seem to be qualities that are sadly lacking.

Just a little thought that goes through my head:

Do stupid people know they are stupid? And if so, does that make them not that stupid because they know it??

Sometimes I wish I was really dumb, that way I wouldnt get crises of confidence or worry about things because I wouldnt be intelligent enough to worry about it or think of the consequences or what it might do!!

I remember the day it happened all too clearly. The feelings of shock, numbness and incredulity it brought on. I still find it hard to talk about. I still often wake up sweating and writhing in the middle of the night – “Oh my god…the flashes…the lights...the incessant chiming and ringing noises. It’s back…It’s back…IT’S BACK!!!! Noooo…”. But alas, the nightmares don’t stop there. It’s all too real. The “12 days of Christmas” have long since mutated into the 12 weeks. Replicating, reproducing and expanding like some nightmarish alien parasite. Its “invasion of the bodysnatchers” come to life.

The day in question? It was mid September. A balmy, warm and humid day, as is the norm now for this previously autumnal time of year. I even had short sleeves and sunglasses on. Perhaps it was this anomaly in the weather that heightened the shocking scenes laid out before my disbelieving eyes. Perhaps, but most likely not. It was the sheer unexpectedness of the assault on my senses – the spawn of novelty Christmas gifts and all their bastard offspring suddenly invading in one mass orchestrated attack. As I try to lock this fearsome invasion in the depths of my mind, a remembrance escapes. Regressed emotions teased forth to the surface like a charmed snake rising from its basket; they come hissing back to life. I remember that I’ve been through this hell on earth before. And undoubtedly will again. One moment minding my own business, and the next taken hostage. That is, unless I can gather enough other scarred souls to join me. To escape this disease, this evil black scourge that invades us, covered in its disguise of twinkling lights and shiny, inviting promises. Start afresh. I don’t yet know how, or where.

We could find ourselves a safe haven – an island to restart and raise our offspring in a better place, having never known the horrors that we did. I know there are others out there…I can see the signs, hear the screams, feel the chill in their bones and see their shaking, tortured faces – all of it evidence that they have witnessed and been tormented by the same frightful sights as I have.

But the window of opportunity seems to be shrinking. These visitations of evil are appearing earlier each time. The gap is narrowing. Before long we will have no time to escape, no time to avoid the brainwashing before we are enslaved in some zombified state.
So please people, hear my pleas…let’s band together and fight back where once there was just acceptance of our doomed fate. Be prepared, be alert, and be strong. For its coming sooner than ever. Where I hesitantly relive that fateful September day, be warned that it could be sooner than that next time. The forces of evil are gathering strongly, and their patience diminishes with each passing year. You may well find yourself still sitting on a beach applying your Factor 20. But don’t be a fool. That may be strong enough to protect you from the burning rays of the sun on a hot August day. But when the clouds gather on the horizon, and you begin to hear the chiming jingly noises in your ears, and see the glinting, shiny, inviting sights massing, hiding this cloak of darkness and evil waiting to consume you…it wont be enough. For the parasite that is the marketing of Christmas will have struck you down and there will be no escape…