A hectic Friday night at work

Dear Diary,

Things occasionally became somewhat tense at that... place this evening. The most unreasonable and certainly rather brutish thug that is my superior was outraged that I went to give him some pans for side-orders (because they had become too high a pile, to the point where no more could be placed there). As a result, he took all the pans to the washing up sink out back and nobody could use any pans any longer. He does not handle stress well. He is not a philosopher, but a brute. I did say to him, "Take it easy." And he yelled back, "You stay pie out! You not move! That why you no good." To which I replied, "If you don't chill the fuck out, right now, I walk."

Anyway, that was my night at work, once again at the behest of brutish thugs and spotted adolescents. This is, after all, Dark Age Britain, where education, experience and good old fashioned common sense have no place. It is a nation run by clowns and brutes, for the benefit of other clowns and brutes. This is not Renaissance Italy, evidently.

I have been reading Simester and Sullivan's Criminal Law: Theory and Doctrine some more, not as much as I should have. I fail to see why on earth I should attempt a third degree when the first two have done nothing but made me an object of ridicule and landed me in huge debt to the tune of £15,000. Education, here, in this f- country, is just a hobby, nothing more, and a very expensive hobby at that.

Still, reading criminal law is interesting (even if its only real application - in Dark Age Britain at least - is the former adjective and not the latter noun).

I also just read rather a nice little section from the Cambridge History of Judaism. Like all the Cambridge Histories and Companions series, it is an informative read, and leads a historian to investigate further the relevant primary sources (not that education or reading or sitting examinations or passing assignments have any actual use in this f- country!). Would that I lived in France, or Germany, or a civilised country, where education, hard work and experience actually mean something. Alas, I do not. I subsist in Dark Age Britain: land of beggars, paupers and slaves.

Max.