Attention readers: Broog is back. That is all.

Snoop Dogg may have fallen off musically in recent years, but still, you have to love the man.

A few new (and re-discovered) words have made their way into my vocabulary in the last couple of months, mostly by way of my Aussie flatmate and her friends.
A jobsworth is a someone who's likely to use the phrase 'That's more than me job's worth.' in response to nearly any professional request. A modern synonym would be desk-skiver.
Workshy is one that I've seen before, but never really made much use of. It's a shame too, because it's such a great way to describe so many of the sheeple that feature in my life.
Rug Smuggler describes hairy bastards that are so hairy that they can't restrain their hirstutitude under standard fashion items, and hence appear to doing a poor job of hiding an illicit floor covering under their shirts.
Welcome Mat is another follicular term, and is my current favourite. It refers to the patch of hair above a poorly shorn ass crack. As in:
You're kidding. She just bends over at the waist all the time?
Yeah, but it's not like you think. She's got a welcome mat like a sheepskin throw rug.
After a tough loss to the Bulls in the early nineties, Charles Barkley said 'That's the kind of game that makes you want to go home and beat your wife and kids.' Now that's funny, even leaving aside the unbelievable shock value. I nearly shat out my spine when I read that one. That's the kind of [__________] that makes you want to go home and beat your wife and kids. will be taking pride of place amongst my bristling array of expressions of sarcastic disapproval. Nick supplied the link to the Charles Barkley Quotes.
A chav is, using BET as a reference point, someone who'd be a real hit on Too Hood For TV. The best theory I've heard is that it's an acronym for Council Housed And Violent, but the most likely explanation is that it's a repurposing of a Romany term for a male child.
[credit to Officer Copperfield from the last post for this etymology. I hadn't heard it before]
Chavs will likely feature prominently in future posts, unless I'm allowed to implement my eugenics program ahead of schedule. A few synonyms are charver, ned, and my personal favourite, steek. Even if you had no idea what it meant, if I called you a steek, I'm pretty damn sure you'd know what I thought of you.

Now normally, I'm accustomed to thinking of the police (or as we call them here, 'Filth') as being on the same moral (and in many cases, evolutionary) level as those beetles that roll balls of animal dung around. Only less useful. At least the beetles probably fertilise endangered shrubs or something.
The officers that aren't beating their wives, assaulting suspects, stealing evidence, or perjuring themselves are generally busy covering for the wife beating, suspect assaulting, evidence stealing, perjury perpetrating ones out of some odd sense of solidarity. We're here to fight crime, so long as it's not committed by a fellow officer, etc. and so forth.
How entertaining it is for me then, to read The Policeman's Blog, an anonymous look at a rank and file uniformed copper somewhere in the concrete chav ranch that is modern Britain.
[Props to Warren for the link]
'Officer Copperfield' ('copper', get it?), is an un-reconstructed middle-class Briton, meaning that he's somewhat right of centre, probably grossly politically incorrect (but with little genuine malice in him), and deeply offended by government waste, incompetence, and intrusion into the lives of public.
Quite why he decided to become a police officer is still beyond me, but I haven't made it all the way through the archives yet.
I suppose what entertains me so much about what I've read so far, is the interaction between what seems to be a genuinely decent person, a Byzantine slew of forms and procedures, and what I can confirm is a thoroughly useless, highly visible underclass. The man is obviously trying to do right by the people that he's meant to be serving and protecting, but is so often thwarted by their complete fecklessness, his superior's obsession with 'initiatives', and his own somewhat limited understanding of just how much, and in what ways society has changed since his formative years, that you can't help but laugh along with the poor guy.
This bit, from a post about the social gulf between today's justice system and the cattle that it caters to, pretty much sums up why I've spent the last day or so chuckling at random inappropriate times (the post is from March 30th, 2005):
No matter how hard I try I cannot seem to get into the swing of policing in the value-free way I am supposed to. I try to maintain my own bourgeois values of thrift, education and respectability but during my hours of work it sometimes feels like I am on a different planet dealing with a strange breed of aliens who have very small brains and enlarged vocal chords. A large part of those brains are devoted to feeling aggrieved and searching for justice. It is as if I have entered a Hogarth print in Burberry.
I certainly hope that he’s taking the usual anonyblogger precautions, and that we won’t see him disappear the first time he’s cited in a dead-tree article on that crazy new phenomenon that’s sweeping the intarwebs, ‘Web-logging’.