Village of the Damned

Ye Gods.
In my dotage I have taken it upon myself to attempt to become a more 'sociable', 'integrated' and 'valuable' member of my limited little society.
You have no idea the joy it gives me to get stabbed in the ankles by some polyester harridan drunkenly steering a sprog buggy, or being battered into insensibility by shopping trolleys and tinny muzak farting out of the public address system in the local supermarket.
Aaah, the joy of human society.
What is it with this dreadful music everywhere you go now? So bass heavy too, boom, boom, boom, and the lyrics, well the shouting - feck off! I'd like to buy a bag of tatties without hearing about the romantic vicissitudes of some 'mutha' and his 'bitch'. This is England you asshole punks have a bit of respect!

Of course I cycled down there, I haven't driven for years now, no, no I'd have to dodge the people carriers and 4 X 4's. All those tourist's and townie commuters clanking their ridiculous tanks through the narrow cobbled streets.
They all look such miserable bastards as well: full of spite, malignancy, suspicion and fear.
Hey! you're alive, cheer up, and you're at least 30 years younger than me. What's going on?

Who needs society anyway when you have a beautiful sea view.