Βι¶ΉΤΌΕΔ

Aren't people annoying, especially younger ones? I am having to do rather a lot of shouting at them. .....

Michele Hanson

Last week I had occasion to rush out into our road and have a shout. Some horrid big girls were bullying my friend's little boys. Naturally I gave the big girls a telling off.

And the day before I had a shout at a girl who threw her picnic about the park, when there was a dustbin only inches away, and the day before that I had a shout at a man who had shouted at me because his dog bit my dog! What a cheek! Worse still, he threatened to break my arms and legs and called me an ugly old witch!

And there was I just trying to have a relaxing dog walk on a sunny day. Fat chance, when the streets and parks are crammed with lunatics. So naturally I had an argument with this rude man. Why be cowed by a Phil Mitchell type with a bullet head and budgerigar neck and big, bulging muscles?

I find that when I'm having a shout, I tend not to think that I may be taking a bit of a risk. I only think of the peril when I get home. Will all the people I've shouted at - the muscle man/horrid girls/rude boys/mad cyclist who nearly ran the dog over - come round and put a brick through the window, scratch my car, poison the dog or firebomb the house? Will I be able to bundle my ancient mother out of the back window in time? This is the trouble with shouting - the horrible repercussions: the anxious days, the sleepless nights that follow.

But at least I'm not the only one. My friend Whitters is also becoming a shouter. He shouts at dog walkers while he's jogging, at motorists while he's cycling, and naturally the dog-owners and motorists shout back at Whitters and all the other annoying joggers and cyclists. I must admit I've shouted at joggers, who won't stop jogging, so the dog chases them and I can't catch up with them and control the dog. All I can do is shout from afar. And as for the cyclists and roller-bladers and skaters all whizzing through the park too fast, giving the pensioners a fright and almost slicing through the dogs - I have to have a go at them. In fact I even had to shout at Whitters about his ridiculous jogging. Why can't he stop? He shouted back of course. Because he must maintain his aerodynamic exercise. Why can't I control my dog? Oh SHUT-UP!

Whitters remembers that when he was eight years old, a terrifying old bat called Mrs Beadle lived in his village. Nobody dared knock a ball into her garden or knock on her door, because if they did, Mrs Beadle would zoom out screaming, her arms whirling about and give them a roasting. She was the village Witch Person. Now that it's nearly bus-pass time, I am turning into a Mrs Beadle, says Whitters, roaring out of my house to have scream at all the passing miscreants and generally berating persons out and about. And he is turning into a Mr Beadle.

The trouble is that the Mrs Beadle method doesn't always work. There are two types of telling-off: Type A - self-controlled and effective, or Type B, the Mrs Beadle sort, which may inspire mockery or all out war. Whitters and I suspect that we might be Type B. We start out calmly as Type A, but somehow it usually turns into Beadly Type B.

My friend Jennifer, on the other hand, is definitely Type A at all times. She was on a train the other day with some staggeringly noisy and annoying girls. They were screeching dreadful filth and playing I-Spy at top volume. 'I spy with my little eye, something beginning with N!!'

'KNICKERS!' Naturally, Jennifer was appalled. Not only by their behaviour, but also by their spelling. She turned round and asked them very strictly, but politely, to please keep the noise down. And guess what? They did as they were told! And Jennifer didn't even have her false tooth in! Still she commanded respect. How did she do it?

I was going to ask for a tutorial but now I'm not so sure, because there's one place where Jennifer's calm, reasonable complaints and strictness do not work. IN HER OWN HOME. She's tried her very best to control the ghastly woman who lives upstairs, with her loud music and her door slamming and her dog barking at dawn, but it hasn't made the tiniest bit of difference. How annoying is that? I think I'd better go round there and give that creature a good telling off.