Recognition at last!

For many years now I have subjected my wife, friends and colleagues to what I feel are objective and temperate observations about the shortcomings of almost every aspect of the human race. A modest commentary on all things thoughtless, ill-conceived, annoying or just plain stupid.

Although she's far too self effacing to admit it, my wife has thoroughly enjoyed the benefits of my wisdom, or my interminable rants as she lovingly describes them. Despite this, I'd noticed recently that even her attention was not quite as close as it used to be. Was she tiring of my expositions? Were my pithy critiques losing their charms? How could I revive the heady days of our early courtship when she hung on my every word and begged me to tell her about my ideas for voting reform or how street signing could be improved?

And then I came across the answer! Recognition by that august body, the International Society of Curmudgeons. After much burning of the midnight oil and a vigorous examination, I've recently been awarded the accolade of Master Curmudgeon (proudly displayed above: click on the image to see it in its enlarged glory). My  professional license to complain has rekindled the vital spark in our relationship and my wife now pays much more attention when I wax lyrical on something that strikes me as being worthy of my/our attention.

My attainment of the rank of Master Curmudgeon has made me realise that the power to complain is both a blessing and a curse. It’s a power that must be used wisely. Professional curmudgeons such as myself have an obligation to apply our skills carefully and then only for the good of mankind. If we do this then people will gather around to listen to the wisdom of the aged. We'll help them see the truth of what’s going on around them and how things should be changed. No longer seen as miserable old gits, we will become wise elders. And that's the way it should be... but don't get me started on why it isn't!