Rant of the Week: Helicopters

I have many MANY things annoying me this week, but I'm very busy and am finding it difficult to blog. Commuter Boy takes up most of my spare time. Never mind, when he dies...

But anyway, just a small rant for this week, but something that is annoying me in the way that Robin Williams films annoy people with an aversion to sentimentality, and George W Bush annoys the whole of the world.

Helicopters.

They should be banned.

Actually, they should be shot down using some kind of improvised slingshot until they get the message to stop flying over my head. But that way madness lies.

Admittedly I really didn't choose the most sensible place to work if I wanted to be free of helicopters. I don't mind so much the "special" helicopters that fly into our next door neighbour's house. They're normally come in without much fuss and bog off as soon as possible. But it's the tourist helicopters that are annoying. They fly up around central London and hover over points of interest. Normally near my office.

And above all, perhaps, even more annoying than tourist helicopters, are the media helicopters. Bastard droning whining noisy little bastards. They fly in really low and hover for HOURS while some muppet films eternally uninteresting things on the ground because it looks a bit nice. Yesterday was particularly bad with the Olympic atheletes "homecoming", (don't get me started - the Rugby team had one because they won the World Cup. Our athletes had one because they came about 9th. The Paralympic team were far better coming second, but I bet there were fewer photos of them in the Evening papers).

Today however, there's been a helicopter over our building for about 5 hours, and it's annoying the crap out of me - why is it there? Have they decided "let's piss off Dave today?". It's like having a wasp trapped in your inner ear canal. But it's not only the buzzing. They also have a high pitched whine that pierces your ear too. They should be banned under an Anti-social Behaviour Order.

And joy. Just when it's finally fucked off (though it's still vaguely there in the distance) the bugler next door has started up. I love brass instruments. My dad was a teacher, and I have taught in my time too. 90% of the buglers at the barracks CANNOT PLAY!!! It's painful. It's like listening to a seven year old taking their first tentative steps. They play with all lip, no diaphragm, so it sounds rough, scratchy, and the pitch wanders all over the place. They had a pretty good one on Friday, but this new one's middling to say the least....

Calm...deep...breaths...oh fuck, now the helicopters come back. Someone kill me please...