A Rant. E-hem...
Council workers can issue littering fines for spitting in a public place. Spitting at someone is seen as an assault and a criminal offence. Spitting is disgusting and should be criminalised.
Urinating in an alley is also vile, and illegal, and punishable variously through public decency laws.
Who is there to police all this vile behaviour? Nope, nobody. Rozzers are too busy holding Tina’s head to one side so she doesn’t choke on her own vomit. Or else talking Conrad down off a bridge parapet because he can’t get a bed for the night and is sick of living.
That’s why we no longer care about standards in public life: we’ve become immune to the small things, have a laugh, roll over and move on. And our law is busy stemming the tide of social care disasters emerging countrywide.
I’m a liberal character, but can’t help but be totally fascistic about public behaviour. I’m spitting feathers at the screen. Our human interactions are what sets us apart from animals. That we are having to be re-told that handwashing is a thing, so as not to decimate our population! That we are having to be told how to sneeze!
My home city, York, is one of the most beautiful places in the country, built round an incredible cathedral which took almost three hundred years to build. And yet, it doesnt take a moment for some knuckle-dragging specimen from elsewhere to rock up on a day trip and spit out their chewing gum right in front of the west door on to riven York stone. Who would dare to tread the dark snickets on a weekend night? Not for fear of the ghost tours holding you up, but more that your moccasins might be awash with puke by home time. (I don’t wear shoes like that, but they sound more liable to be tetchy around vomit.)
I’m only shouting into a silly screen here, ranting on. I don’t feel any better. In fact, I feel worse. I should have coughed into my handkerchief, which I always carry for these occasions, don’t you know.
if you read what I wrote, rather than just imaging a scenario... then you might realise that I'm not advocating spitting on banisters or door handles. In a nutshell, I posted 'better out than in'... and one can spit into a tissue. Hope that helps.I've seen stats showing TB infections LBo Lambeth where I live and Doctors attribute infections within the UK to spitting.
Err - I do hope the results of that throat clearing were disposed of hygienicallyA Rant. E-hem...
Sorry. I am not certain of the statistics, but I imagine from the odd foray south of Barnsley that North Yorkshire towns and cities are rather tidy; so keep plugging the old country in your comparisons, with my blessinghen mentioning my native North Yorkshire as still having reasonable standards
Thanks for noticing that subtle throat-clearing. As you expect as I orate, I did dispose of my expectorate.😛Err - I do hope the results of that throat clearing were disposed of hygienically
A Rant. E-hem...
Council workers can issue littering fines for spitting in a public place. Spitting at someone is seen as an assault and a criminal offence. Spitting is disgusting and should be criminalised.
Urinating in an alley is also vile, and illegal, and punishable variously through public decency laws.
Who is there to police all this vile behaviour? Nope, nobody. Rozzers are too busy holding Tina’s head to one side so she doesn’t choke on her own vomit. Or else talking Conrad down off a bridge parapet because he can’t get a bed for the night and is sick of living.
That’s why we no longer care about standards in public life: we’ve become immune to the small things, have a laugh, roll over and move on. And our law is busy stemming the tide of social care disasters emerging countrywide.
I’m a liberal character, but can’t help but be totally fascistic about public behaviour. I’m spitting feathers at the screen. Our human interactions are what sets us apart from animals. That we are having to be re-told that handwashing is a thing, so as not to decimate our population! That we are having to be told how to sneeze!
My home city, York, is one of the most beautiful places in the country, built round an incredible cathedral which took almost three hundred years to build. And yet, it doesnt take a moment for some knuckle-dragging specimen from elsewhere to rock up on a day trip and spit out their chewing gum right in front of the west door on to riven York stone. Who would dare to tread the dark snickets on a weekend night? Not for fear of the ghost tours holding you up, but more that your moccasins might be awash with puke by home time. (I don’t wear shoes like that, but they sound more liable to be tetchy around vomit.)
I’m only shouting into a silly screen here, ranting on. I don’t feel any better. In fact, I feel worse. I should have coughed into my handkerchief, which I always carry for these occasions, don’t you know.