The UK fucking sucks

“Are ye fookin’ daft, boyo? Ah wanted self-raisin’ flour, ye special case.”

“You didn’t specify.”

“Ah shouldn’t hae tae, sonny. Christ, sometimes ah wonder if ye cannae tell yer arse fae yer elbow.”

“Oh for the love of- fine, I’ll go out and buy self-raising instead, christ alive, woman.”

“Ye better, ye bloody fool.”

I stormed out of the front door, slamming it behind myself. Bloody old crone, what was her problem? Could have gone out herself but no, I have to be her bloody man slave. And in the piss-pouring rain too? And for flour of all things? She was really taking the mickey this time.

I was half-tempted to just keep walking and stay somewhere else for the night, but god knows I didn’t have the money to book a hotel or something. Unfortunately I had no option other than to put up with my Mum or go homeless. It was a genuine struggle to decide which was better.

A flash of light in the distance, followed shortly by the rumbling of thunder, drowned out my thoughts of irritations. The already abysmal weather was getting worse by the moment, the wind and rain whipping my face, but I didn’t pick up the pace at all. Honestly, being out in the middle of a storm was far less stressful than dealing with her.

She was the only family I had left after my dad passed a few years back, but that didn’t make our relationship any better. On the contrary, in that time her temper had grown fiercer and her patience shorter. She was always one inconvenience away from hurling insults at me, and I was pretty sure the only reason she was never physically violent towards me was because she knew I was stronger than her.

Every day I thought of just packing my things and disappearing for good, but the pay at work was shite and I had no friends or family who would take me in. I may have had little to go back to at home, but there was also nothing else for me. I had no options.

Another strike of lightning flashed before my eyes. Judging by the thunder shortly after, this one was much closer. I half expected the electricity at home to have gone by the time I got back, which was just another complaint I’d have to deal with from the old mare. As if I can control the bloody weather.

If the blasted woman had the decency to be rich enough to leave me something when she dies, I’d grin and bear it, but as it stood the only things I’d inherit from her were her foul mouth, miserable attitude and unpaid loans. I had long since decided that the very moment I became financially independent I’d leave her in the dust, but with the economy in the shitter and my complete lack of qualifications that wasn’t likely to happen any time soon.

I hated it all. Every waking moment of my fuck-awful life. Working a shite job to live in a shite house with my walking complaint generator of a mother and hardly a penny to my name. What a miserable existence I led. I’d take any out given to me in a heartbeat. Hell, in the moment, I wouldn’t have minded if the next bolt of lightning struck me dead then and there.