France, Life experience, Travel

Holiday from hell — journal of a misadventure

I seldom write about travel, and when I do, it’s only about spectacular experiences. I have never written about misadventures that caused so much anxiety and grief that I wonder why we carried on when things started to go wrong. But when you have such an experience that lasted from the time of beginning the journey to the very end, and beyond, I thought on the hindsight, it was an adventure worth remembering, even though we were not that amused when it all happened.

It began when we started our journey to France on a mid-June Monday. We had already moved from our Kent home, so we stayed overnight in Ramsgate. In the morning, as we left for the ferry from Dover, it was a last minute dash because of the roadworks along the way. As we were waiting for the ferry, I realised we forgot to book the European breakdown cover. I made a last minute frantic call to the breakdown provider (I had three covers those days, don’t ask me why and how!) and selected an option that was slightly high priced but provided more cover. To be honest, that was the best last minute call I’ve ever made; if I hadn’t done that, we probably had had to come back without the car. So with the breakdown sorted, we set sail on the way to our destination, Normandy. We planned what we’d do each day, and had a busy schedule ahead but we were sure that we were going to have a great time. Only if we knew what lay ahead of us.

Here, I’d flashback to the week before we started our journey. I was on M25 on my way home and I suddenly felt the car lost all its power. As if it went into a limp mode. The car was only over a year old, so you don’t expect a major fault to develop. The breakdown mechanic couldn’t fix it, but he reset the warning light and asked to start and see if the traction is back. It worked. So I thought it was a freak incident and I must have done something to cause that. The dealer could not have a look in such a short notice, so we decided to carry on with the plans and get the car fixed later.

Coming back to 20th of June, we did the usual. On reaching Calais, a trip to Adinkerke to buy cheap tobacco and Speculoos, a quick trip to Carrefour Mivoix and late lunch at the McDonalds there. With all that done and a cranky terrible two, we headed for belle Normandie. Except that we were running a bit late and looked like we wouldn’t get to the campsite before 8:30 pm. It was a long drive but that never bothered us. Not until the things started to go wrong very quickly. We were approaching Boulogne-sur-mer on A16 where the road goes on an incline. It’s not steep by any means, but the car generally needs to work harder. Whilst on that section, the car lost power again! Second time within a week. I exactly knew what went wrong when the engine warning flashed on the dashboard. It made me panic a bit. A breakdown on a foreign country is a terrifying prospect, let alone that happening on the autoroute meant we’d have to pay highway authority the fees to be towed away from the autoroute. So I decided to carry on driving at 50mph until we reached the next exit. Thankfully it was a country road and I carried on driving for a while before we stopped on the verge. My satnav said it’s a place called Beuvrequin. I remember the place we stopped, with houses on the right and the other side of the road, had vast fields.

Beuvrequin, verge/footpath where we stopped


Beuvrequin, view on the other side of the road

After we calmed down our crying daughter, upset that the holiday might not go ahead, I called the breakdown agency. I reported the breakdown and was told that the wait time is about 45 mins. Being parked on the pavement by a country road was not the best of the places, especially getting stares from people who had to go on the grass. A few minutes later, I received a call from the French contact from the breakdown company, telling me that they cannot send assistance because during my application I said we’ll be going to Belgium and then France. So, tow away will have to come from Belgium, and they don’t to towing across borders. Infuriated and anxious, I called the UK number, and after explaining the situation, they said we should get assistance and they will arrange with the French colleagues. Another 15 min later, which is almost an hour since I was told that the assistance is 45 min away, I received another call from the French number saying they are sending breakdown van and it’ll be coming around 5:45 pm. By then, I doubted any garage will be open.

The breakdown truck arrived slightly earlier than we were told. As expected, the mechanic didn’t know a word of English. I thought that would be ideal to practice my French. I probably would have, if I knew all technical terms. I didn’t even know what brakes are called. Anyway, the guy picked the car on his truck and asked us to go in the truck to the garage. I think that was the highlight of the day and my daughter loved travelling in a truck. We went to a garage in Boulogne-sur-mer. He met another colleague who had a computer to connect to the engine management system. They decided that it’s beyond their knowledge and learning that the car was under warranty, they said the work can only be done in an Opel garage. By that time we gave up our hope to get the car fixed that day because it was already nearly 6 pm. The mechanic said he’ll take us to their garage to keep the car overnight and we can arrange the taxi pick-up from the garage. We were offered a replacement car or stay in a hotel and get the car looked at the next morning. I was confident that it’ll just be resetting the alarm and we’ll be able to drive on. So we chose the hotel and waited at the garage. The taxi came around 6:30 pm to take us to the hotel in Boulogne.

Hardy Maurice garage
Source: https://www.ville-stleonard.fr


Hotel ALexandra in Boulogne

The hotel was pleasant and it was located close to Boulogne city centre. We walked down to a square called Place Dalton and had a nice dinner, trying to forget the headache we’re about to have the following day. The following day we had nothing to do but wait for the updates from the breakdown company. So we were just cooped up in the room. About 9 am we received a call saying that the breakdown garage will take the car to the nearest Opel garage. I thought it would be done in minutes, so our hopes of having our holiday soared high again. But that state of euphoria didn’t last long as a follow up at 11 am confirmed that the car was still in the garage. The agent said she’ll call me back shortly. When she did, it was even worse news. Opel garage was fully booked and they wouldn’t be able to fix it before Wednesday or even Thursday. At that point, we thought we’d had enough and started thinking of cancelling the holiday and go back home. As a last ditch attempt, we demanded a replacement car. After waiting another 10 minutes for a callback, we were told that our only chance was if we left the hotel immediately because the car hire place they use will be shut from 12 pm. It was already getting towards 11:30 am. So we picked all our tonnes of luggage, waiting for the taxi. Then the taxi dropped us at the wrong place, which meant we had to drag all our luggage and a toddler across a busy junction without crossings. When we arrived at the Enterprise Cars office, there was only one employee, waiting for us. It took another half an hour to get sorted. But in the end, we had our car.

I wish our story could end here, but it wasn’t unfortunately. Our understanding of the breakdown cover was that we get the hire car until the time we are ready to return to Boulogne on our way back. On Wednesday afternoon, as we’re exploring the American war memorial in Colleville-sur-mer, I received a call from the breakdown company that our car was fixed and they want the hire car back. Shouting or swearing is normally my cup of tea, but if I lost my temper that day, I’d expect people would have sympathised with me. I kept my calm but said that they are expecting me to make a 600 km journey because they screwed up a breakdown repair. It also seemed like the day of our return, Saturday, is only for the Car buyers at the Opel garage and the repairs department is shut. I was told very sternly to go back on Friday to which I refused, agreeing to pay the difference for an additional day of car hire. Half an hour later, I received another call that the garage had been very understanding and made a very rare exception of opening the repair garage on Saturday.

With the good news that the car was fixed and that we can get on with rest of the holiday, we felt relaxed then and enjoyed the rest of the days. Except the fact that Normandy is where it rains most in France and it rained really bad the week we went there. Unlike previous caravan holidays, we opted for tent that time, and the floor was filled with water because of the leaks in the floor sheet. We spent most of our stay in the tents mopping the floor, wet feet, soaked trainers and a damp tent. Despite this little inconvenience, I felt the time in Normandy was much more enriching than in Paris. Just when we were about to enjoy the holiday, having lost nearly two days, it was over and it was time to come home.

We started with plenty of time in hand, thinking of collecting the car early so we could go to the cheap wine store in Calais. We got to the Enterprise Car place at about 12. But then we realised that they are shut in Saturdays and we needed to drop the keys at a hotel opposite the car hire place, past the big junction. Les Gens de Mer — the hotel looked quite nice as we browsed the lobby and menu while we waited for the taxi. The taxi arrived late, and we were on our way to the Opel garage near Outreau where our car was getting repaired. When we got there, the manager said everything was done and they are getting the car ready. It did surprise me a bit because the car was ready on Thursday. We waited nearly 45 minutes before we were given the keys. We were at the last minute rush again, trying to get cheap fuel from Carrefour and head for the ferry. That was the beginning of another nightmare journey.

Hotel Les Gens de Mer
Source: Agoda.com

As we headed back to Calais, I noticed that the tyre pressure warning sign came on. I was not too worried at the beginning, because sometimes if one tyre had less pressure than the others, the sign came on. But as we went closer to Calais, I started to get more and more worried as the pressure kept on dropping. When the other tyres read 38 psi, the fourth tyre was at 25 psi. There must have been a leak, I thought. But where would that have happened? The car has always been at the breakdown garage or at the Opel garage. Did they just find out and handed me a car with a leak? Surely they can’t be that unscrupulous! But everything signed that way.

So we went back to Carrefour, filled the tank and put some air in the faulty tyre thinking it might have some problem that’s going to fix itself. When we boarded the ferry, I left the car with 35 psi on the tyre and hoping that it should stay like that when we reached the UK. 90 minutes later when we came down to the deck, I couldn’t believe my eyes. The tyre was completely flat. And we had landed as well, so we didn’t have any time to change the tyre. It was a Saturday afternoon and most of the garages would have been shut by 4 pm.

Now I made a faux pas at that moment. I had the option to come off the ferry and get the tyre changed with the spare tyre. We could have then driven home because our spare tyre is a full spec one and there is no speed restriction. Silly me, I didn’t remember that at the moment of madness when I thought if I take too long changing the tyre, and something else is wrong, I might lose the last chance to get home that night. So I decided to drive on to the next open garage, which was Kwik-fit. As I drove on the alloy wheel, the sharp and annoying screeching deafened our ears despite the windows were up. I was worried that there will be damage to the wheel as well but it was a relief that there wasn’t.

Kwik-fit changed the tyre straight away and we also got another tyre which was getting towards the legal limit. After that, we hit the road, hoping to get some dinner at Bluewater or Lakeside, places that we used to visit often but missed a lot when we moved. After a filling dinner, with our daughter falling asleep in the car, we finally felt that after all this, the holiday is coming to an end. But there are more twist in the tale that one can imagine. Just because everything had to go wrong on that trip, as we were on M6 nearing Coventry, my daughter woke up and started crying. We didn’t want to stop, being so close at home, and as I tried to accelerate harder, BANG! The engine warning light came back on and the car won’t speed beyond 50 mph. The sting in the tail that was waiting for us before we reached home. So all that fuss at the Opel garage, did they do sod all apart from puncture the tyre? Nevertheless, my daughter’s incessant crying made me carry on rather than stop and ask for another breakdown. I just pushed the pedal down and used the downward slopes on the road to speed up and use the momentum to drive the car at a higher speed as the road became flat or went up. Without much difficulty, we reached home, bringing a close to the worst travel experiences we ever had.

Like many stories have an epilogue to the end, the tale of our misfortunes does not end there. I had to take many days off as I was unable to commute to work while getting the car fixed. Back then, I was doing a commute of 300 miles! During next few days, the car was repaired, and the fault reappeared almost immediately at times. In the end, it took a call to their grievance line to report the issue to get the technical team involved, who sorted the problem. One of those days when the car was broken down, I had to hire a car to go to a meeting in London. There, as I was trying to get on the Hammersmith bridge, I was caught at the box junction and was fined £70. Now the car belonging to the hire company, they received the fine notice first. By the time I received it, I couldn’t appeal online, so I had to send it over email. I then got the email address wrong and was then facing a court action since the first notice was received much earlier and the normal 2 weeks response window had gone. This dragged on until November. So nearly 5 months after that week in June, we put an end to the dreadful journey, but before that end, I had to pay out the final amount which had since doubled.

So, there we are, our story ends here. Terrible experience to sum it up. And I believe we won’t forget it very soon. Yet, the good memories will last longer. Visit to Utah, Omaha and Juno beaches, our daughter’s excited walk in the sand, the American war memorial and its deafening silence at Colleville-Sur-mer, the Bayeux tapestry, Caen, beautiful village of Beauvron-en-auge, riviera of the north Deauville and Trouville-Sur-mer, surreal grace of Lisieux abbey, sunrise over the trees at our site in the middle of nowhere at Château Le Brévedent, the quaint villages Le Pin and Blangy-le-château near our campsite, the bridge at Le Havre — the memories are countless and one day, if not already, they will outweigh the dreadful experience about the journey.

Just as I finished this with a positive spin, I remembered to add one last note about our holiday from hell. The year this happened was 2016, and I guess we all know what happened that year between 20th and 25th June. Yes, Brexit. That happened while we were on this holiday as well. Before we left, we were all confident that it was just a paper exercise to finish off UKIP, and in fact felt smug to see the smiles disappear from the leavers’ faces. On 24th when the results came out, we were going to Trouville-sur-mer. The entire day was spent in disbelief, then frustration and then anger, as all the lies started to surface. Brexit was the pinnacle of the catastrophes that week and I believe it was symbolised by everything that went wrong with the car. It was a nightmare, getting a simple thing done took forever, service on both sides of the border was equally appalling, and above all, since it happened, things were never the same. You live in fear that things will go wrong again, and so it did. The car proved my premonitions, and Brexit will go the same way. I think there will be a time in future where all good and terrible memories will fade away, and we will remember the journey just as our own Brexit disaster. I think that should say it all.
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Labour, Politics, UK

Tories out: A last minute guide for tactical voting

Last year when the UK delivered its shock verdict in EU membership, I was in Normandy. I had already done my bit, I voted IN through postal ballot, did some Facebook canvassing, slagged off and ridiculed the UKIP buffoons and Cameron’s brochure. I thought that was enough to stay in. It was not. The VOTE LEAVE banners stuck on bushes and little bridges seemed to have a louder voice. This year, after a year of drama and pandemonium, we are yet again heading for another election, apparently to a stronger and stable UK. A day after the results, we’ll be on our way to a France again, where the people overwhelmingly voted for a pro-EU leader, shutting down the threat of a protectionist and nationalist regime. Our visit would be quite symbolic, either going in as equals, with a progressive government in the Westminster working to damage control the Brexit outcome. Or going in as laughing stock, with a government still fooling its people with no deal is better than a bad deal, Brexit means Brexit and all other mouthful nonsense. The 8th June will definitely change the future course of the British politics; it’s just waiting to see if that’s for better or worse.

If you survived this far and not pissed off about another remoaner, and you haven’t much time, read this concise guide that gives you much insight about tactical voting. How to vote the Tories out: a newbies’ guide to tactical voting. You don’t need to know the rest unless you’re still undecided, where this might help you decide why you can’t let the Tories another reign.

The biggest dilemma about this election is whom to vote. On one side, you have Theresa May and her cronies, constantly changing their stance on every single policy, and already showing the horrors of the Thatcher era politics with cuts on every imaginable public service. And there is another party which shouldn’t even be considered a mainline party after the Brexit vote. UKIP lost its relevance, although unfortunately, the supporter base of disillusioned working class hasn’t yet moved back to mainstream parties. It’s to see if 2017 will see the obliteration of UKIP like 2015 was for BNP. On the other side of the spectrum, there is Labour. Or Jeremy Corbyn. Like it or not, he is the face of Labour, and based on where you are and how old you are, you either like Labour because of him, or you won’t vote Labour because of him. It is undeniable, however, that despite the mass walkout of mainstream Labour politicians, Labour led by Jeremy Corbyn has done very well to cut the Tory lead to a minimum. But surveys aren’t accurate. I’m still apprehensive. Then there is SNP, set to win all their seats with bigger margins after Theresa May quashed the call for a second referendum. At times where Labour was expected to rip the Tory bills and arguments apart, they were surprisingly very reserved, and it was SNP did that job. But they don’t have a manifesto for the entire UK, and while you agree with them, and may form coalitions, their interest will only circle around Scottish public, which accounts for only 8% of the population. And about Libdems, seven years after they made the collaboration with the Conservatives, and virtually wiped themselves out of the UK map, their popularity is on the rise again, mainly to urban young voters based on the Brexit renegotiation issue. You have the Green Party as well, but outside Brighton, they only appear to have a niche voter bank, not large enough to swing any seat. And the Women’s equality party. But these parties, although they have a credible agenda, this is not the Election to undercut anti-Tory supports. Who can you trust then? The choice that appears to be available to the general public, not just this time, but for most of the elections, is the best of a bad bunch.

It is hard to support a particular political party these days. This is partly because they moved away from the party hardline and gradually taking a centrist approach. It is quite possible to find that various parties are promising to fulfil your expectations on various sectors, and you end up choosing the party meetings most of them. For the generally capitalist economies, this offers a middle ground for the oppressed middle and lower classes, but from a socialistic point of view, this means that the changes are not drastic enough to ensure that the income gap is decreasing and everybody in the country is offered a minimum level of lifestyle.

The other deterrent of voting is the lack of leadership. Despite all other negatives, Margaret Thatcher was the last credible leader the UK has seen. The PMs after her lacked any kind of leadership. They were suave men, great in appearance and eloquence but that’s how far their skills went. They hardly knew the country or its people outside their boys club spheres, and failed to understand the challenges and hardships faced by the working class. Outside the PM club, Nick Clegg was one such leader who showed great promise, but ended up committing political euthanasia for the Libdems by joining with Tories in 2010. Looking at Theresa May, she often tries to emulate Thatcher but fails miserably. Most of her answers in the PMQ ended up making personal insults to Jeremy Corbyn, or other opposition MPs or members of the public. A leader who shows no respect for the opposition and no empathy for the harsh realities faced by the working class today including most of the public servants, it is unimaginable how people can trust her to be in charge of the country. All she has got is strong words and no actions to follow through. On the other side of the bench we have Jeremy Corbyn. Much has been said about his appearance and leadership qualities, but over the last two years he had shown extreme resilience when he had to withstand challenge from his own party rather than the opposition. Granted he made rushed decisions within the Labour camp, reshuffling shadow cabinet every month or so, but that wasn’t a failure of him, but the Labour MPs who chose to leave the party in tatters rather than stand behind Corbyn. People who think Jeremy Corbyn isn’t the suitable leader, let me remind you the terrible handling of the home office by the now PM, including the UKBA vans and the cuts in police that is to some extent responsible for the failure to intercept recent terrorist attacks. If her track records prove she is a better leader based on void arguments like enough is enough or Brexit means Brexit, then it begs the question of legitimacy of such claims.

So, whom to vote for then? Looking at most or all sociopolitical events happening over last decade, or longer than that, I repeat to myself one simple phrase, “Know your enemy”. The more problems I witness, the more I’m convinced that there’s so much hatred and so much tension between humans, and one root cause is that we are always fighting a shadow war with an imaginary opponent but the real perpetrators always get away unharmed. It does sound like a communist manifesto, but wealth is the main underlying factor in most of the crises faced today — austerity, terrorism, tax evasion, immigration — the list is endless. It is like watching the butterfly effect unfurl in front of your own eyes. Considering the vote is not decided by the 1% of the wealthiest people, but the working class people, the phrase “know your enemy” is actually understanding who they are actually exploited by. The enemy is not the Polish construction worker next door who you think is taking up your jobs, the enemy is not the Muslim neighbourhood that you avoid because it doesn’t feel like Britain there, the enemy is not the disabled person having to prove every week that they are unable to work, nor are the children fleeing their war torn countries waiting in Calais jungle for yet another dangerous attempt to cross the channel. The enemy is not the EU, taking away billions of pounds from you, because you don’t know how much it’s putting back in. The enemy is not the children and people in countries with natural disasters, famine, political unrest because you think all your tax ends up there doing charities. The actual enemy is who led you believe all this red herrings so you are not disgusted by things that are actually robbing you in the daylight. About protecting the interests of the rich, about making Britain a tax haven, about sending away doctors and nurses who’ve been legitimately working here for years by raising the threshold, by cutting pensions and disability benefits yet funding millions for the clowns in Buckingham palace. You must be disgusted learning how imams tell the Muslim communities whether to vote and for whom to vote? I am. But you don’t see it the same way when The Sun, Daily Mail and The Express urges on its front page who you should be voting for! The media who led you believe all the trash deliberately, by Rupert Murdoch & co is our enemy. You don’t really need religious hate preachers in this country, but the media is doing exactly that right in front of your nose. The societies are being divided thanks to media scapegoating. Yet, you choose to spend you hard earned money reading that trash and get agitated that this country is going down. And there are politicians. You’re not disgusted that a PM is saying enough is enough after repeated terrorist attacks, yet she was the person in charge of the home affairs for last six years, cutting police and surveillance numbers. You are worried about letting Syrian refugees in case they are terrorists, yet you don’t flinch when picture of May appears with the king of Saudi Arabia. You still know where most of these terrorist outfits get their funding from, don’t you? You just chose to ignore and rather shout for Burqa ban! You see smug Jeremy Hunt smile sheepishly when he’s asked about the chaotic situation in the NHS, Iain Duncan Smith burst out in cheers when a cut is mentioned, we have a buffoon of a foreign secretary that people should be ashamed of allowing representing Britain to other nation. And that the fox hunting would be brought back doesn’t bother you, nor does Theresa May’s warning about throwing out any human rights laws to prevent terrorism, uncannily idiotic and dangerous as the Muslim ban proposed by the orange faced batshit across the pond. Yet your derision is only directed towards Diane Abbott for getting her figures wrong, and your anger towards Jeremy Corbyn for his supposed IRA link.

So really, you need to think whether you should be more worried about Labour raising tax for people earning more than £80k and the Bolshevik rhetoric suggested by the right wing media, or issues that have been plaguing the country for much longer? Britain needs a new government, a government that puts its people first and treat all as equals. And a government that draws away from US led foreign policy framework about the Middle East and think how the country can constructively contribute to the peace process. Guns didn’t work there, it’s evident now. All it did is bring the enemy home. We need a government that ensures that our public service is protected and public servants are recognised for their amazing service working unreasonable hours for pittance. You need a government that will ensure Brexit happens with a close tie to the Europe, by agreeing free labour movement so the access is not lost to our biggest market rather than grovelling to counties that are undemocratic. You need a fairer society where the minimum wage lets someone have a decent lifestyle unreliable of the food banks, people who earn more are made to pay more tax, closing loopholes that the Tories have been enjoying sharing with their crony pals. Can Theresa May promise all these? Heck no! Can Labour deliver all this? Heck no, but they made the first move by thinking about it. And they say “You’ve actually failed when you stopped trying”. But more importantly, you need to keep the Tories out. So, look at many tactical voting sites and see if your constituency is marginal. If you’re Libdem and Labour is marginal, your best bet is to vote Labour, rather than allow another closely won conservative seat. And above all, VOTE! Make sure you had your voice heard. I still wait to see the day when it will be liable to fines if you didn’t vote. So turn up and don’t moan later.

Here’s one last word of caution though. If you’re thinking voting Libdem where they are close to win and Labour is not in contention. Remember 2010, when you were betrayed by them. So, don’t make an assumption that Tim Farron will side with Labour if there’s a hung parliament. But I’d still think if there was alternative voting available, Labour would be the second choice of Libdem supporters than the Tories. And if you voted Libdems, you have a fair chance of a coalition; voting Labour and losing the seat to Tories will mean another seat will have to be won somewhere to compensate. In either case, make your vote count towards making a difference. It’s your choice, for a better tomorrow…or worse. Just remember, “Know your enemy”. All the best to your future.

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Politics, short story, UK

A Remoaner’s Parable for Brexit

A good friend once told me this story:

There was a devout man. He prayed to God every day and thanked him for his existence on earth. He always believed that if he was in any kind of trouble, God will help him out. And so God did. One time when his child had fever, and he prayed and prayed. The next morning his child was cured completely; he even went to school. Or the other time when he ran into debt and after praying to God, he had the dream and found an untouched scratch card lying inside a book, and he won enough money to clear his debts.

One day our devout man was working in his office. It started to rain heavily around the lunch hour. The people thought the rain would stop soon. But it carried on, and the water started to rise. The banks of the river nearby had burst, and a flash flood followed. There was a TV at the pantry area in the corner. In the middle of share price displays, there was a woman on screen with an angelic face, making an announcement that everybody should leave the area straight away. Everyone in the office packed their bags and rushed to leave the building. Everyone but our friend. He started praying, so the disaster would stop. Colleagues tried to dissuade him, but he was firm in his belief. His colleagues thought he was mad, but he knew God will help him.

Half and hour went by. The water is gushing inside the building. The devout man is still asking God to put an end to this awful weather. There was a loud honk outside. A rescue truck is rescuing stranded people to take them up to high ground. Our friend looked out of the window.

“Hey there! Come downstairs, there’s nothing to worry. The water isn’t deep. We got you”
“Thanks, but I’m fine here. God will save us. You should pray as well“
“What nonsense! Come right now, we got other people to rescue and the water is getting higher”
“God will make it all stop. You’ll see. You carry on, help the others“
“You moron!“

And the truck drove away. The man went back to his prayer. Half an hour went by. The ground floor is under a waist deep water. A big siren and flashing lights outside. A fire engine is passing by. It comes to a halt as the fireman noticed the man looking out of the office window.

“Hang in there fella, we’ll get the ladder to you!“
“I don’t need your ladder. The God almighty will soon put an end to this.“
“What a load of rubbish! Get on the ladder now. We can’t stay here long, water will get in the engine“
“You save yourself my friend. God will save me. He always had in the past“
“Good luck to you on that.“

And the fire engine went away. The man was feeling a bit anxious now. Is God not happy with him? Has he done something wrong? “I promise I will pray more, dear God! It’s just the thoughts about work and family distracted me lately. But I will, once again, be your true servant“. He started praying more feverishly. Half an hour…then an hour went by. It’s getting dark, and there is no sign of the rain to stop. The water has come up to the first floor. Our man went to the roof, so god can save him. “Ah I see. He probably wasn’t planning to stop the rain. It must be a boat, like Noah’s, that will save me. I know now why God waited for so long. He wanted the water to rise so he can send the ark“. The man suddenly felt that God hadn’t forsaken him, and he was too blind to see it. He watched out for the boat, but was disturbed by a very loud whirring noise again—

A helicopter is circling over the buildings. Our man is suddenly flooded with shining light from the helicopter. They lowered the rope ladder, to rescue the last few stranded people. A booming voice came from the copter

“ Hello there! Grab the ladder carefully and climb up inside”.

The man thought that wasn’t the way he expected the help to come. And he refused. The pilot explained that he won’t be able to come back and he must escape. But our man refused. There will be a boat soon. The helicopter flew away.

The man started praying again. Minutes went by, then an hour. The water has risen to the roof. He is standing facing the sea of water that engulfed all buildings around. He is suddenly panic-stricken. That God wouldn’t help him this time. He started wondering what sins he had committed that God is annoyed with him. The water is rising fast. It’s up to his ankles, then waist and in a few more minutes he was standing with his chest under water. He held on to the handrails, knowing it’ll all be over in a few minutes. Faces of his wife and son flashed in front of his eyes. And that all his prayers didn’t manage to move God, that was more hurtful. He felt betrayed. With water almost up to his neck, he lets out a desperate howl, “Why dear God did you abandon me? I have always been faithful to you. What have I done wrong? Please help me!“

Suddenly there was a bolt of lightning. And a few more. The dark sky was lit up with electric blue flashes. Then, as our man looked up, silhouette of a man appeared, and the God spoke,

“Fucking idiot, who do you think alerted you of the flood, and sent you the truck, fire engine and the helicopter? I thinks it’s better to have no followers than the blind ones like you!”

He disappeared in the clashing and colliding clouds. The water isn’t rising anymore. The devout man gazed at the sky, awestruck.

“I was right! My lord has saved me again. I saw his face! I’m glad I waited until the very last moment” – he thought.

And then, there was a loud sigh, then out came a big wave, and the man was washed away into nothingness. Even the God had had enough of this delusional moron.


Over 17 million people voted for Brexit out of 46 million electorate. Within the first hour of the shocking morning of the 24th June, it was clear that all the promises and dreams of claiming back the glory land was a farce. The first lifeline was the desperate call for a second referendum. The second, the utter chaos that followed in the Tory and UKIP camp, as their bunch of lies came to light one after another. Then there was the High court and the Supreme Court ruling for giving MPs a vote to trigger Article 50. There were options for a soft Brexit with access to single market and free movement. And then the vote. The final say before it was all over. And it was. Thanks to the deluded 17 million, thanks to the jokers Farage and Boris, thanks to the scheming Daily Mail and Daily Express, and finally thanks to the bloody three-line whip from Corbyn, the fucking show is finally over. There’s no more lifeline; only the grim future with a racist molester as the main ally for UK. Or possibly the only ally left. The road to perdition starts here…
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