Fiction: I never complain

It doesn’t take much, does it, for people to start complaining.  I mean you might think they would actually do something about it.  But they just want a good moan.  Take the other night, when the government announced on the Telly that it was going to tighten up on the drinking laws in this country.  A good thing, if you ask me.  But look at the uproar it’s caused.
143You would think people would be pleased that the government is actually paying attention to this issue.  I mean, everyone who lives in a town of any size has to deal with packs of young men – and nowadays young women as well – piling out of the pub at eleven at night, three sheets to the wind, and behaving abominably.  I pity those poor people that have to live near a pub and put up with the noise, the refuse and the mess.  You can’t get to sleep with that row going on, and nobody cares.  You can beg as much as you like, but the landlord doesn’t want to turn the music down for fear of scaring off his customers.
I don’t know what’s wrong with young people these days.  Why do they like that pounding music?  No one I know likes it, and I’ve asked many of my friends.  They listen to it with headphones on, and you can still hear it!  Manys the time I’ve had to lean forward on a bus, and tap some young person on the arm and mouth a request to turn it down.  They can’t hear a thing!
There’s no consideration nowadays, no manners.  Everyone looks so disreputable, they dress in these horrible outfits that are torn and dirty, and shove past everyone without a by your leave.  I remember a time when a man used to doff his hat, every time he saw a lady. What is the world coming to?
–Cynthia Haggard writes short stories, novels and poetry.  During the day, she is a medical writer and has recently opened her own business.  For more on her creative writing, go to spunstories.  For more about her medical writing services, go to clarifyingconcepts.  (c) 2008. All rights reserved.

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