27.10.2009 - 2:12 p.m.

In the last year, all the petrol stations round here have changed their air pumps from free to paid, now i have to pay between 20 and 50 pence to get 5 minutes of air. I don't need 5 minutes of air as it takes about 30 seconds a tyre to sort them out, on occasion i've been lucky enough to catch the end of someone elses 'pump time'

Apart from the fact that the greedy fuckers make more than enough on the fire water to subsidise the air, i now have to find an alternative to the petrol station to get free air. For a while i had free air by 'borrowing' the in-laws foot pump which worked fine but i had to give it back, so i went to the market and bought my own foot pump, in fact the very first foot pump i've ever owned, how grown up. I had dreams of fixing the sagging tyres on my car and the ever deflating rubber on my bike on which after the pressure has dropped to about 24psi feels like i'm riding something with bread rolls for wheels. So this morning i chucked the still packaged pump in the car and resolved to sort out the issue on arrival at work.

At work, uncharacteristically early for once, i unpackage the pump and set to attaching it to the softest of my rear tyres, with a bit of wiggling i get the endy bit on the valve and depress the little lever to secure it and start pumping, and it works, my 3 quid chinese made air mover is actually filling the tyre as expected, even the little pressure dial works after a fashion. I get the tyre up to a respectable pressure and try to remove the endy bit from the valve, and now it all goes wrong. I lift the lever and the endy bit won't disengage from the valve and all the time the undisengagement is accompanied by the sound of my hard work whistling out of the tyre.

I'm now faced with the prospect of trying to get the endy bit off the valve before the tyre is completely flat or leaving the pump attached and driving home with a full tyre (i'm sure it'll be ok), i try to resolve the situation in the only way i know how, by the application of force on an increasingly exponential scale only possible by a man faced with a dilemma involving inanimate objects. I was finally able to unscrew the endy bit from the valve using the threads on the valve to work against, unfortunately this was only possible because the endy bit tore away from the air line, cheap fucking chinese piss poor merchandise, their lack of standards and morals now doesn't make me feel so bad that their industrial revolution is poisoning everyone in shanghai, they deserve it.

I now have to investigate the possibility of finding a new airline to attach to a serviceable and barely used pump assembly, probably (although unlikely) at a combined higher cost than going to halfords and spending twenty quid on a foot pump that works to parameters specified by the EU in the first place, i wish sometimes that i had enough cash to outlay on decent stuff first rather than always having to try and minimise expenditure.

Admittedly i'm in a better position than some in that i have a good job and even though we're forking out pretty much all the money we earn each month just to maintain the house and a very modest lifestyle, and notwithstanding the fact that we need new windows throughout and the boiler needs a servicing or better still replacing, and i'm plagued by stupid pieces of home whitegoods acting up every fucking month, we're lucky and i know it.

If i were not a responsible husband i'd be able to undertake well paid work at odd hours for shady people doing shady things, i've no problem being shady, especially if it pays well, shadiness generally leads to shady employment sectors in which disregard for safety nets and usually (but not exclusively) the law can generate substantial revenues, but i'm responsible and smart enough not to upset a comfortable life and wife, i know which side my bread is buttered and she's the most important thing to me now.

As long as we don't have to move back in with her parents again, i'm not sure either of us would survive that.

Last night i bought some levis for the first time in about fifteen years, i had to buy them because i'm down to one pair of jeans i can wear at work, the second pair i had for work literally disintegrated after years of service, at first i was happy to wear them with the material in the arse so thin you could see light through it, but one day the leg detached just below the arse cheek and as cutoffs aren't fashionable they were binned (not actually binned they were relegated to garage duties as rags). The last pair of levis i bought are still going strong as rough gardening wear, although they're now a little tight for sitting around so i opted for new pair of black 501's. Not knowing if i still fit a 30/30 i went to a levis store at the weekend to check, and i do, hurrah, but i'll be damned if i'm spending eighty squid on jeans, the robbing fucks, however forty squid on t'internet is reasonable given that i'll get ten years plus life out of them, i think they'll arrive later this week, imagine how posh i'll look.

'Posh' as in presentable i.e clean and new looking, not 'posh' as in claridges, park lane and a ninety grand range rover

Now i just need to spend money on some more whimsical t-shirts, for me fashion stopped at a pair of boots, black 501's and a white t-shirt (the boy is currently haemorrhaging money on Henleys stuff so he can be 'fashionable' and therefore 'popular', he mocks me because i'm immune to fashion and would never spend money on being the same as every other trendster, his befogged adolescent mind can't and doesn't want to grasp the concept that a) some things are timeless and b) i look best naked, wrapped around and inserted into my wife, his mother), the t-shirt being either plain or plain with a whimsical and humourous decal. Plain plain is easy 'cos tesco do them for pocket money, for whimsy i have to search the intertubes (now that we have intertubes, before in the dark ages it was a case of being lucky), however there's now a huge market for whimsy aimed squarely at and mostly designed by Gen X'ers like us.

In avoiding the crap, misogynist 'lager-based' psuedo-humour t-shirts (we saw a collection at the weekend in a discount chav shop and it was dire) one must explore away from the the world where wit means having FCUK written across your chest or the equally depressing Havazombie and Filth, you might as well shop at GAP and leave the labels on you drone, we're not impressed.

As a witty gentleman of stunning resource i frequent places such as Topatoco because they are full of people like us, and also the perennial UK favourite Withit, there are a couple of others but i can't remember the URL and can't be arsed looking for them now, you're all smart people find them yourselves. The upside of importing tshirts into the UK from US designers is that the chances of meeting someone with the same or similar design is remote, which lends a certain individuality to the situation. So even if i have got a small picture of a cartoon bee on my tshirt, i'm happy with it and 'ave you got something you want to say to me you fashion chav ? no ? I didn't think so, now fack off clone before you get punched.

I think this is why the boy and a great many adults don't get it and instead stay with the Henleys and DKNY's 'fashion is identity' bullshit, being completely individual could be scary because you're deliberately distancing yourself from the societal herd mentality (or could identify you as a twatty hipster type person, but they're easy to spot as a cross between russell brand and a schizophrenic, colourblind homeless person, and we're not counting them) and being distanced is not good if you're in any way insecure about being judged by others, better to be like them, a part of the herd, it's safe there.

Obviously this rant only applies to men, womens fashion, although orientated along similar lines is vastly more complicated and requires a shitload more consideration of which i'm not really equipped to do more than scratch the surface, but if i see one more girl in plimsols, skinny jeans, Jesus and mary chain tshirt and a shemagh i think i'll puke, maybe she'll grow out of it when she grows up.