It’s just an illusion…

It’s wrong.

It is just plain wrong I know.

I have had a couple of weeks away from the keyboard and in that time there has been the usual turmoil throughout our nation, the continent and the world.

Wars, fighting, mass fleeing from nations, terrorism, racial persecution, financial turbulence, political in-fighting, illness, disease, deaths, births…the information flows in as a constant, unstoppable stream from all mediums bringing fear, joy, fury, outrage, incredulity, curiosity…all emotions, yet what has moved ME more than anything in this short time?

People parading around with Costa coffee cups in their hands.

I understand that this probably reveals me for the deep thinker that I am and is just about the absolute classification of a First World Problem, but the reason for the long lists above is to outline the enormity of the world’s problems to qualify why I can only focus on small things at a time.

Now many of you may well be saying to yourself, “Tone, you do yourself an injustice old sausage, your concern for our environment and the hard to recycle disposable coffee cup does you credit”, but I would be lying if I were to say that was my primary concern, though I will say it DOES concern me and the fact that are only two sites capable of recycling said cups in the whole of the UK seems ridiculous in 2016.

No my concern (actually concern does not even come close to covering it, fury, desire to maim and kill is probably more accurate) is how we have come to the point where carrying a disposable cup like it is the Webb Ellis Trophy  has become some kind of status symbol.

It’s a cup of coffee, get over it, and more’s to the point, yourself!

Before anyone thinks I am anti-coffee, or indeed coffee shops, nothing could be further from the truth, in fact I love coffee, have owned Gaggia machines and traveled the long journey of trying to find the perfect cup of coffee at home without requiring a second mortgage or setting the house on fire. Costa I do object too, they make the proliferation of the ‘Golden Arches’ throughout this green and pleasant land seem pedestrian, I find their coffee average at best and of course the tax situation is PATHETIC (though they are not alone). Windsor, in particular, is mobbed out with their outlets of varying types.

That said, it’s not Costa specifically that I object to, it is the cup, the manner in which it is carried and the importance placed on it by the carrier that bring out this nearly uncontrollable desire to smash it out of the carrier’s hand and admonish with a simple ‘Arse’, or ‘Grow up’ (after all I wouldn’t want to be offensive) in what I hope woukld be an authoritative but friendly manner, a bit like an older brother offering sage advice from experience to a younger sibling.

This feeling also comes over me when I see a jogger carrying one of those carrying ¬†bottle things (the internet tells me it’s a ‘Runner’s Bottle’ – one is actually called a ‘running bottle’ but it appears inanimate to me!). I mean come on!

If you’re into health and fitness you should aim for hydration at all times, but a couple of miles after work? Get a grip.

Perhaps that’s what the coffee cup business is all about, fear of dehydration whilst walking the 100 metres to work.

Talking of dehydration, what about poor old Hilary Clinton the other day, with her usual economy of truth she said that she had overheated and was dehydrated, carefully skirting around the fact that this caused by pneumonia, but I am sure that you were as convinced of her recovery as I was when she appeared a couple of hours later ignoring all questions from the press and, almost as convincing was the genuine concern expressed by the Trumpster (how reassuring to the world that HIS doctor has made a statement saying that he is in excellent health – though I am worried about the ferret on his head, which appears a bit dehydrated and could do with a saucer of milk).

The way she hid behind sunglasses and ignored all questions saying only what a lovely day it was in New York reminded me of Polly, masquerading as Sybil ill in bed for the surprise anniversary party in Fawlty Towers.

Denial was also present in that interesting character Brendan Rodgers, the man who did the best unintentional impression of David Brent as his world crumbled around him at Liverpool and is now trotting out his unique brand of nonsense at Glasgow Celtic. Apparently it’s not embarrassing to lose 7-0 to Barcelona…I sense the summit of a very slippery slope being breached. It’s just what you want to hear from your leader isn’t it? Funny how their captain, Scott Brown said that it was an unacceptable performance.

I end today on what is a sad note for me.

Having spent the last twenty odd years with my radio tuned to BBC FiveLive, Peter Allen, who has kept me awake, made me shout, cry, reflect, laugh and question, has retired. He is no superstar of broadcasting in general but has been the heartbeat of that station and, in my opinion, is a political interviewer without peer and in Brooke Towers he will be sorely missed, so thanks Peter.

(Note to self: seek Anger Management therapy).

 

Cheers

 

Tony