Tonight’s walk down the woods with the little dog has left me… annoyed and wishing that I could sit stupid people in a room and wear them down with logic and reason.

Me and the little feller were strolling along, he about twenty metres ahead of me as usual, when I noticed a big, massive bastard of man telling him to “get away!”.

“Will you put that dog on a lead, love?” he ordered me.

“No, he’s on his walk,” was my response.  It was then that I noticed that the man was being accompanied a woman who in turn was being dragged along by a huge rottweiler.

Now, the little dog is usually a pain in the arse with other dogs, but he was actually keeping his distance from this one.

“This dog is aggressive and dangerous and I don’t want him mauling yours or dragging my wife around while it tries to go for it.  It should be on a lead.”

Now, this is where I wish my brain would engage about 30 seconds earlier than it usually does because if it had, I’d have said:

“If it’s a dangerous or aggressive dog, it should be muzzled.  And if you’re worried about your wife being dragged around by it, why the fuck aren’t you holding the lead?  Also, have you considered that the dog needs some proper exercise and that’s why it might seem aggressive?  Look at it, it’s hugely overweight.”

Instead, I said, “I’m not putting my dog on its lead because it makes him anxious and snappy. Come on Rock.”  We went our separate ways.

His response was, “It should be on a lead, it’s THE LAW!”

“Errrm, no it isn’t”

And then his wife piped up, “It is down HERE!”

“Don’t talk rubbish”

Jesus, JESUS! If you’re happy to be dragged around by your dog, do it on the streets, not down the woods where normal people like to take their pooches for a nice run and a play you fucking knuckle-dragging retarded oaf.  And while I’m thinking about it, get a dog you can handle and give that one to somebody who’ll look after it properly, you fucking moron.

It makes my blood boil.

I want to get all the stupid people who encounter together in a room, give them a talking to, fry their brains by using words with more than two syllables, take a cattle prod to their eyeballs, then watch them all die… on fire.

Why do things like this affect me for hours after they happen?  Why can’t I just laugh off their stupidity instead of allowing it to make me feel like I’m the victim of a conspiracy from some sort of secret society of idiots and getting annoyed with myself?  Fuck! It’s no wonder people turn into serial killers.

I’m going to spend the rest of today’s waking hours punching myself in the head while those two are probably on their twelve can of super-strength cider and second bucket of fried chicken.