an email from a reader

Got sent this from one of you, thanks Jon I wholeheartedly agree with this behaviour.
When you occasionally have a really bad day, and you just need to take it out on someone, don't take it out on someone you know -- take it out on someone you don't know.
I was sitting at my desk when I remembered a phone call I had forgotten to make. I found the number and dialed it.
A man answered, saying, "Hello."
I politely said, "Could I please speak with Robin Carter?"
Suddenly, the phone was slammed down on me.
I couldn't believe that anyone could be so rude. I realized I had called the wrong number. I tracked down Robin's correct number and called her. I had accidentally transposed the last two digits of her phone number. After hanging up with her, I decided to call the 'wrong' number again. When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled, "You're an asshole!" and hung up.
I wrote his number down with the word 'asshole' next to it, and put it in my desk drawer.
Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills or had a really bad day, I'd call him up and yell, "You're an asshole!" It always cheered me up.
When Caller ID came to our area, I thought my therapeutic 'asshole'calling would have to stop. So, I called his number and said, "Hi, this is John Smith from the Telephone Company. I'm just calling to see if you're familiar with the Caller ID program?"
He yelled, "NO!" and slammed the phone down.
I quickly called him back and said, "That's because you're an asshole!"
One day I was at the store, getting ready to pull into a parking spot. Some guy in a black BMW cut me off and pulled into the spot I had patiently waited for.. I hit the horn and yelled that I had been waiting for that spot. The idiot ignored me. I noticed a "For Sale" sign in his car window. .. so, I wrote down his number.
A couple of days later, right after calling the first asshole (I had his number on speed dial), I thought I had better call the BMW asshole, too. I said, "Is this the man with the black BMW for sale?"
"Yes, it is."
Can you tell me where I can see it?"
"Yes, I live at 1802 West 34th Street. It's a yellow house, and the car's parked right out in front."
"What's your name?" I asked.
"My name is Don Hansen," he said.
"When's a good time to catch you, Don?"
"I'm home every evening after five."
"Listen, Don, can I tell you something?"
"Don, you're an asshole."
Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too. Now, when I had a problem, I had two assholes to call. But after several months of calling them, it wasn't as enjoyable as it used to be.
So, I came up with an idea. I called Asshole #1.
"You're an asshole!" (But I didn't hang up.)
"Are you still there?" he asked.
"Stop calling me," he screamed.
"Make me," I said.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Don Hansen.."
"Yeah? Where do you live?"
"Asshole, I live at 1802 West 34th Street, a yellow house, with a black Beamer parked in front."
He said, "I'm coming over right now, Don. And you had better start saying your prayers."
I said, "Yeah, like I'm really scared, asshole."
Then I called Asshole #2.
"Hello?" he said.
"Hello, asshole," I said.
He yelled, "If I ever find out who you are...!"
"You'll what?" I said.
"I'll kick your ass," he exclaimed.
I answered, "Well, asshole, here's your chance. I'm coming over right now."
Then I hung up and immediately called the police, saying that I lived at
1802 West 34th Street, and that I was on my way over there to kill my gay lover.
Now, Im pretty convinced this is not a true story, even though I want it to be. I really want it to be. So now, I'm left wondering, what sort of person are you Jon? What sort of person makes up stories and passes them off as their own life experiences? Well, obviously the sort of person WHO PISSES ME OFF, YOU BASTARD



Like my bike? Yeah, that's right, some cheeky fucker has nicked it. (Could it be that the tosser who nicked the bike caps came back for the rest?) Well, you should know one thing, you thieving bastard - I have now taken to renting all the Death Wish films for research purposes. Plus dipshit, YOU'VE FUCKED ME OFF (SO, SO FUCKING MUCH) YOU CUNT


I'm not a fan of the countryside. It's okay to visit, for a few days, 5 at tops. But let's be honest, anymore and you might as well read the Daily Mail, hate all dark-skinned people (asylum-seeking, job-stealing dole-draining, bomb-making terrorist gypsy types) and believe that the master-race wears brogues, cords and barbours.

Well, you know what, arseholes, if it were such a great place we'd all move there, but we don't, most of us live in cities. Just check out the figures, More of us live in one tower block than one of your counties - so you work it out. And why? Because we love knowing we can go and get fresh coriander at 3am for one (Even though we never do), And we enjoy the food, company and cultures of those people of a different creed or colour.

If you haven't guessed, it's not the nature bit I don't like, God's contribution is fine with me. No, it's the fucking people.

When people from the city came down and told them to rip out the hedges and kill off the wildlife and spray the land with poisons and abuse their live stock they nodded their big, blotchy, red faces, took the subsidies and went down t' pub to drink some disgusting cloudy cow piss out of personalised tankards.

But when people from the city came down and told them to stop killing animals for pleasure what happens? They band together, they lobby government, they seek coverage in the media, they unite, they rebel.

It's because your priorities are so fucked that you should know, cuntry folk, that YOU PISS ME OFF, YOU STUPID BASTARDS.

PS. You don't even own the land, you lease it from your children, that's how stupid you are.


I appreciate it's a crap job. I appreciate there's no career path. I appreciate that you're bored. I appreciate you're really an educated student and that you need some cash to carry on with your studies and most people in the street treat you like shit.

But what I don't appreciate is you practically shoving a card in my pocket. Trust me when I say I do not want to learn to speak English and for that and that reason alone YOU PISSED ME OFF YOU BASTARD.


Despite a huge increase in the number of mopeds and motorbikes in the centre of London since the introduction of the congestion charge, the smart people in Gerkin Towers (city hall by any other name) have not thought it necessary to increase the number of bike bays. Bastards. So it really doesn't help when you find your nearest bike bay full up with a huge arsehole. Is it really surprising YOU PISSED ME OFF, YOU BASTARD.