Professional sorts who dabble in the workings of the human mind and any number of magazines, regularly tell us, both the typically sane and the utterly mad, that when you have problems you should talk about them. Well ok. I have developed just a few problems in recent weeks and would like, or perhaps as Cosmo (I read it while waiting at the barber shop, honest!) would suggest, need, to indulge in a cathartic expulsion of my pent up rage. Don't get worried at this point. All is absolutely fine with me and Heide, indeed she's the one keeping me out of the straight jacket and padded cell right now.
 
However, I am overwhelmed with feelings of aggression and dream of inflicting massive grievous bodily harm against huge portions of the Indian population. Things are so bad right now that I fantasize about popping a few snooker balls inside a sock and splintering skulls. I'm actually searching for a moral get out clause for sponsoring genocide. Yep, things are feeling pretty prickly at the moment. So why am I feeling so wound up? Well, it's not just one or two "things" but a cornucopia of annoyances, which I'll share with you in the hope that my confessions will be greeted with sympathy and absolution. Just an upfront note: I don't think that if I were to inflict mass pain with my snooker balls any half decent priest would say that as penance I need say more than three Hail Mary's. That's how strong the mitigating circumstances for my feelings are; you see, we've had some bad news from back home. No one, most notably our ex tenant, is keeping the home fires burning and on top of this I've lost my wallet with enough money in it to have kept us going for the rest of our time in India. Sadly, it also contained my green card and credit cards etc. What fun it'll be sorting all that out from over here.

 
So here we go. I am incredibly sick and tired of people at the moment for the following reasons:

1. Spitting -  This is a grotesque habit. Spitting in public is really inexcusable, particularly when it is a repeated offence. Even more so when it is spewed forth every few seconds with brazen disregard for where the sputum lands. When this disgusting discharge lands on or near me or Heide then it is a crime worthy of flogging the offender to within an inch of his (for it is invariably a male crime) life. As if it weren't bad enough that there is a national obsession with flobbing forth so much phlegm that you could drown a goose! These men manage to compound their repulsive behaviour by adding paan to the mix. Paan is a snuff like material that is inexplicably vastly popular in India. Men pack wads of this matter in their mouths and wait until they have several gallons of red coloured filth in their cheeks before allowing the cascade to fly anywhere the fellah deems appropriate. In other words, where so ever he happens to be. This emission is as red as a consumptive's spittoon and the scarlet discharge will stain any surface it lands on. From skin to clothes, to brick walls, to the oh so popular point of deposition, the sinks on public trains. All will be irreparably stained. Hmm, nice!   

2. Snotting - When the Indian man decides that he's done with spitting he'll most likely decide that tradition dictates he then clear his nostrils. Many times. Several trillion years ago some cavemen made one of the most enduring inventions in history. It's called the Hankie! This vastly popular receptacle for nasal mucus can come in the form of tissue, silk or cotton but remarkably this everyday item has never been exported in any form to India. Why bother when there is plenty of floor space or sinks in which to blow ones nose? It's not that this habit is just a passing blow. Oh no. When he starts he doesn't stop. It's like a demented Duracell bunny with a fiendish sinus problem. He'll blow and blow and huff and puff until frankly he's expelled more air through his nostril than it takes to fill a tractor tyre. Then he'll start with the other side. It's not pleasant. Honestly, while we were trying to sleep in our hotel at Bodhgaya the noise of snotting began at 4:30 in the morning and lasted for a full two hours! It kept us up and it's not as if it was coming from our bathroom, nor even next door, but a full four rooms down! It's like being in the straw house with the Three Little Pigs as the Big Bad Wolf is huffing and puffing and blowing the house down.

3. Hacking - For some reason it seems it is not physically possible to walk any further than 30 metres or to sit in the back of a rickshaw for longer than 57 seconds without attempting to cough up a few dozen marbles. I am unsure as to why people swallow the marbles in the first place. I suppose it's a bit like the old lady who swallowed a fly; but there is seemingly a contest for who can consume then regurgitate, at the maximum possible decibel level, the most glass balls. Odd and unnecessary. 

4. Pissing - I suspect that there is an incredibly high, near 100% as it goes, rate of diabetes suffering among the male populous. This can be the only explanation for the massive pissathon that takes place on every street, against every wall and up every tree in the country. I believe that this illness is compounded by a degenerative genetic disorder that shrinks the bladder to the size of a thimble thus the need to urinate overwhelms every six or seven minutes. You can forget cricket, hockey or racket sports, indeed not even the need to blame Pakistan for all the world's ills can come close to peeing as the actual national pastime in India. I find it tiresome.   

5. Shitting - Ok, this one starts getting messy, and I don't mean just on the soles of your shoes. There is a really unpleasant character flaw that seems to come out whilst at railway stations. The stations are not without toilets, they may well be unpleasant but they are there. So why do people feel the need to jump down onto the tracks (I suppose I should be grateful for small mercies) drop the shreddies and excrete the waste? It's a disgusting habit. It stinks, it's unhealthy (does anyone know the rate of ecoli in this country?) and it's unnecessary. I know that if you've gotta go, then you've gotta go, but when there is a toilet, use it! The filthy buggers who defacted all over the lines at Patna Junction didn't even wipe (let alone wash) Is it any wonder that you stink you filthy dog! NB This is not something everyone does, it seems to only be the lowest of the low. Is it any wonder such folk are considered "untouchable"?

6. Bull Shitting - Although I have eaten it for years I am not an expert in Indian cuisine. But that does not mean that I am as stupid as I look. When Heide and I order two completely different dishes for dinner and they come out looking the same, smelling the same and tasting the same, they are the bloody same! Don't tell me "No, no sir! Very different. Capsicum, you see, capsicum is the difference" Capsicum! Capsicum? I'll put a cap in your ass son if you don't stop telling lies to me! Similarly I am not a walking ATM so stop making up phantom plates for the benefit of padding my bill. I didn't order them, why should I they would have only been exactly the same as the dishes I was served anyway?! Plus, I can count (just) so don't try telling me that this calculation is correct. It isn't. You know it, I know it and if you want to make an issue of it lets bloody well do so.

7. Ogling - Of all the "things" that are winding me up at  the moment none is getting to me more than the ogling, the stares, the gawking, the leering and the lecherous looks accompanied by lewd comments. This activity is of course directed towards Heide. It winds her up too, but she either has more tolerance than I do or would rather simply ignore these scum than to dignify their peasantry with a comment. Well sorry, but I'm pushing on breaking point and I have to reply. The looks come from everywhere. They'll position themselves to get the best possible look (Heide incidentally is clad in travel clothing, not exactly provocative stuff, as far as I'm aware The North Face doesn't do a hot, sexy look) I will position myself between the eyes I'd simply love to gouge out and my better half. Should this fail I'll wave or snap my fingers (God I wish it was their necks) to try and avert the gaze. Should this fail, and it often does, an eloquent "What!?" with a sneer and a look that says I'd really like to hurt you immensely will typically do the trick. But not always. In Bodhgaya, the place where Buddha found enlightenment, a group of four thoroughly un-enelighted blokes made comment that I could not stand by and allow to pass. I turned and told them where to go (the second word was "off!" and if I type the first word, which is short and begins with "F", my mum will tell me off, so I won't) they sniggered and made the comment to Heide again. This time I growled the same directive, with a surprising amount of venom and the kind of "I'll-Kill-You,-You-Bastards" look that would petrify even hardened street brawlers. It worked. The four sheepishly shut up and went on with whatever they had been doing previously. I hold them in such contempt that snooker balling these four may be beneath me. But probably not. Such activity is not confined to the streets. While we were in the museum at Patna, where one may reasonably expect just a wee bit more decorum, I had to point to Heide and say "Wife!" then turn to one of the artefacts on display and say "exhibit" then to the scum "You look at the exhibits, not my wife!". Luckily for them they did as I instructed.

8. Rodents - I hate rodents. Well ok, not all of them, mice are alright I suppose but rats disgusting, feculent disease ridden filth, who should be rounded up and exterminated. Since I was a youngster I've had something of a phobia towards rats (the product of an over active imagination and too much detail about the great plagues that swept the world centuries ago, in my History classes as an eight year old) I'm putting out a call to the Indian government, Rentokil, The United Nations, the Pied Piper of bloody Hamelin, anyone. Come and rid this place of rats. They scurry everywhere, in hotels, in internet cafes (there is none where I am right now, I have convinced myself of that) and in restaurants. I often wonder about the exact nature of the entirely similar but "no sir, very different" meat that Heide and I consume.

9. Weight loss - I was never exactly the fattest boy in class but in the last few months my waistline has shrunk so much that the last hole on my belt is now as useful as a Band-Aid is to Marie Antoinette's neck wound. Indeed my trousers are now falling down. This may not be a particularly pretty picture for you to have, but the slack draws expose the upper reaches of my pants. I look like a bad ass dude from the 'hood! I NEED FOOD! Real food!

10. Drizzle - I resent the fact that I'm in a country thousands of miles form home, a place I'll possibly never visit again and I'm so annoyed that I dream of drizzle (when I'm not dreaming of inflicting suffering of course) I long for cold, grey nights with a steady rain beating down and soaking and chilling you to the bone. I ache to see the spectral glow of orange street lights peering through the murk, like halos from some giant man made angels. Such desires are wrong and I hate the fact that I feel their pull so strongly.   

11. Invisible tigers -  I just abhor the fact that Tigers in India are invisible and yet we clamour to see them and part with wads of cash to do so. 

12. Cancellations - I am massively wound up by systems that just don't work. We buy tickets to travel on a train in a certain class, and when the train arrives we can't travel in the class that we paid top dollar for because it either doesn't exist or there is no room. Thus we have to sit the end of the carriage by the sink into which the men spit their paan. Naturally we get no restitution for this. At least we get to our destination when this happens because there are occasions when the train just doesn't turn up. They cancel trains, invariably when you've turned up at the station at about 2:30 in the morning, without bothering to pop such reasonably important information as a cancellation, on the notice board. Oh no, it's much more fun to say that the train which has been cancelled will be arriving at platform 5, in about three weeks time. Ho, ho bloody ho! Then when you ask "well how will I get to my destination?" the response is always a "I-really-couldn't-give-a-crap-I-only-work-here" look accompanied by a shrug of the shoulders. Not good. Really not good. Still I suppose it's better than a lecherous stare in Heide's direction.
 
I guess that's probably enough bitching and whinging for one lifetime, so I'll quit now, after all as the saying goes: "laugh and the whole world laughs with you. Cry, and you cry alone". But thanks for bearing with me and allowing me to vent. So whadda ya reckon? Three Hail Mary's enough for my evil thoughts? I mean I haven't actually clouted anyone. Yet!