Grumpy Old Sod Dot Com - an internet voice for the exasperated. Sick of the nanny state? Pissed off with politicians? Annoyed by newspapers? Irate with the internet? Tell us about it!

Send us an email
Go back


Our Wanker of the Week award
Captain Grumpy's bedtime reading. You can buy them too, if you think you're grumpy enough!
Readers wives. Yes, really!
More Grumpy Old Sods on the net
Sign our Guest Book

NO2ID - Stop ID cards and the database state







On our recent Wanker of the Week page we said "The blackbird is not only one of our commonest birds, but has the most beautiful and varied song of any British bird. The nightingale doesn't even come close, in The GOS's opinion - and he lives in the country so he ought to know."
Our esteemed correspondent Saga Lout didn't agree. In the Guest Book he wrote "I have to disagree with you about the bird "song". Understanding, as I do, what the birds are "singing" about puts the dawn chorus into a completely different light. If a bunch of human adolescents sat outside your window shouting "Oi darling, look at the size of my willy" you'd soon be complaining. And when they're not shouting about their prowess in the mating department they get all territorial: "Oi you, get orf my land".
Bloody birds.
(Is that grumpy enough for you?)

Well, fair enough. And certainly grumpy enough. Also factually correct. But it set us thinking
Do the intentions of wild animals make any difference to our appreciation of them? When we sit transfixed, watching a wildlife programme of baby foxes gambolling playfully outside their den while mother looks fondly on, should we really be remembering that when they're bigger they'll think nothing of worming their way into a henhouse and playfully gambolling until forty or fifty fat pullets are toast?
Or vice versa, does the fact that a great white shark is a great big vicious b*st*rd that would like nothing more than to chew off your legs prevent us from appreciating its grace and power?
What about those cuddly white polar bears that we're all so worried about as they perch on dwindling ice-floes? If we, like some Canadians, actually had to live where they do, we'd be more concerned about them invading our townships and rooting through the dustbins. Not quite so white and cuddly then, are they, with their muzzles dripping with last night's vindaloo and their damn great teeth pointing at you when you step out of the back door?
And just suppose we did, by chance, find the sound of human adolescents charming? One can imagine great nature reserves where these fascinating creatures could roam free in a natural habitat, to be described in hushed and reverent tone by David Attenborough: "And now, if I'm very quiet, I can approach these magnificent specimens as they go about their private business. Far off among the trees the males can be heard trumpeting their mating call, "'Ere, you slag, look at the size of my dick!" or defending their territory against marauding males from a neighbouring tribe with shouts of "F*ck off, paki!".
Meanwhile, closer to hand in the thickets that surround me, the females are tending their young with tender calls of "I went round to see the fat cow 'cos I 'eard she'd been saying fings about me".
When you watch the intricate social life of these endangered animals, you have to wonder what the future holds, faced as they are with constant threat to their delicate environment from the encroachments of mankind and the damage of Global Wa oh sh*t, they've spotted me "



Use this Yahoo Search box to find more grumpy places,
either on this site or on the World Wide Web.








Copyright © 2007 The GOS
This site created and maintained by PlainSite