To the driver of the 1.1 litre Fiat Siecento with the big bore exhaust. Revving your engine and scaring children at a zebra crossing isn't big or clever, it's retarded. They're children. Stop it. Speaking of retarded, you're driving a ten year old car originally designed for use by circus clowns, putting a loud exhaust on it doesn't make it a better car, or improve it's performance, it just makes everyone look at you. I promise you nobody is looking at you driving your noisy tin can and thinking "wow, I wish *I* was that cool."

You, sir, are a twat.

To the owner of the Range Rover Vogue SE parked in Knowle this afternoon. There are rules we in the rest of society live by, some written, some unwritten. Those written rules are called "laws" and cover many topics from business contracts to such simple things as where we can and can't park our cars. They apply to you too. Just because you have a nice big car doesn't mean you get to hold up everyone else trying to go about their day. Your thoughtlessness caused literally hundreds of people a delay because you're too fucking lazy to drive the extra 50 yards to the car park, instead opting to park on the double yellow lines on a busy road, thus:

You, sir, are a twat.

To the colossal fucktard child who scared my 90 year old neighbour by whizzing past her on his bike this morning, you're all of 14, I know. There's a chance, a slim chance, that you may grow up and realise what a complete scumbag  you are, but it's unlikely. Jo is 90 years old, she worked through the war training army drivers, she survived the blitz. She has lived a full life, raised three children, adores her 6 grand kids, and has a cuddle for my daughter every time we see her. She lost her husband of 60 years 8 years ago, and still misses him every day. You should fucking pray you find that kind of love.  She is also going blind, at this point all she can see is light and shadow. So when you and your little fuckwit mates think it's funny to race past her getting as close as you can... well, it's not. And be glad I wasn't right alongside her when you did it, or you'd have found out exactly how not funny it is when I shoved you off your bike into a fucking tree.

You, fuckwit, are a twat-in-training.

To the arsehole gobbing off in Tescos to the lass on the till because "for fucks sake love, I've only got an hour for lunch" - fuck off. Take your shiny fucking suit, your badly tied power-tie and just fuck off. She's earning minimum wage sitting on that till scanning stuff faster than most people can pack it and being bored out of her mind. How much do you think you being a dick is going to affect how quickly you get your duck wrap and a drink? Really? It serves no purpose other than to make her already-shitty day at work at little bit shittier, and to highlight to everyone within earshot what a senseless halfwit you are.

You, sir, are a twat.

To the moron at the petrol station who couldn't figure out how to pay at the pump despite using the pumps clearly signed THIS LANE PAY AT PUMP ONLY, when I offer to help you, resist the urge to be a dick about it. There's people waiting, your inability to follow simple instructions should not be their problem. "Don't come near me when I'm using my card" is not the response they want to hear, nor the one I expect when all I said was "do you need some help with that?"

You, sir, are a twat.

It would be easy to think that the world is full of twats, it's not. Today at Toys R Us there was a woman struggling to manage a toddler mid-tantrum (all parents have been there) and a massive box, another customer nodded at me, and between us we helped her take it out to her car. Took no time at all, and she was incredibly grateful. Today the lady who cut my hair will finish work and drive to see one of her former regular customers, he's unwell and can't get out to get his hair cut - she doesn't charge him. Today a million people will perform small acts of kindness for friends and strangers alike. The majority of people aren't twats... which just makes those that are stand out all the more.