Exasperated by sheer arrogance of litterbugs

Anton’s ire is piqued this week by those who leave litter for others to pick up and he reflects on the sad state of Derby County

SO, September ebbs away. The daylight hours get ever fewer. Strictly is back; a certain harbinger of telly behind closed curtains. The Rams are in peril – déjà vu all over again, as my sporting hero Yogi Berra famously said – and among items of litter I came across on my post-prandial stroll yesterday were a face mask carelessly thrown into a bush, and, in contrast, a car battery for a Lotus, placed neatly in the middle of the pavement.

I know a lot of men profess not to watch Strictly, but I’m a keen viewer because I’m in awe of the way that complete novices can so quickly learn complicated dance steps. I possess the proverbial two left feet.

During our courting days, the future Mrs R once persuaded me to join her on the dance floor. She limped away, never to ask again. Which was all right by me. I’m most content when I’m just a wallflower at these events.

Derby County? Well, everyone, including me, already seems to have offered their two penn’orth on this desperately sad time. How the club’s business affairs have been allowed to reach such a parlous state is quite remarkable.

I tire of hearing the pandemic trotted out as an excuse. Way before we knew that Wuhan had a bat market, the Revenue wanted to wind up the Rams over an astronomical amount of unpaid tax.

It seems to be the result of a gamble that went badly wrong.

Clearly the club’s owner is not a disciple of the Wilkins Micawber school of economics. Alas, it is too late to sit him down with a copy of David Copperfield. Bleak House it is now.

Which leaves us with the discarded face mask and the Lotus battery that no one seems to want. Currently there is almost a paper trail of used face masks. They are particularly to be found at bus stops where thoughtless people have alighted. Car batteries, not so much.

Whatever it is, I’ve never understood why anyone would drop litter – point of order: is it litter until you’ve dropped it? Never mind – and the sheer arrogance of leaving someone else to clean up your mess really does exasperate me.

Then again, so do car drivers who block the way for wheelchair users by parking partly on footpaths, pavement cyclists who make it the pedestrian’s job to use a cycle lane, and young men who knock on your door trying to sell you a dishcloth otherwise they will descend into a life of crime. Is there really no other option? A pedlar or a burglar?

The other day I read that job vacancies in the UK have passed the one-million mark for the first time since records began, but that there are also 1.6 million people unemployed. That doesn’t add up. I understand that if you are an out-ofwork shepherd you’re unlikely to find suitable alternative employment in the finance and insurance sector. Nonetheless, there must be flexibility somewhere, surely?

Meanwhile, we may not be in lockdown just now, but Covid-19 is never far away. Recently, a close friend, in his 70s and doublejabbed, was admitted to hospital after testing positive. I’m happy to say that he’s out again now, and on the mend. It was, however, apparently much worse than “if you do get it now, it’ll be just like having a bad cold”. Of course, each one of us must sometimes venture into crowded places, but I think that there is much to be said for keeping one’s distance unless it’s otherwise necessary. October is just a couple of days away. The leaves are falling, there is a chill in the air, and the holiday season is almost upon us. Although, according to a Sky News reporter, Christmas may be cancelled this year because of a shortage of turkeys. Not for me it won’t. I’ve been a pescatarian for decades. Which some people find odd because I was born in December.

How the club’s business affairs have been allowed to reach such a parlous state is quite remarkable.