Friday Rant - “You Cannot Be Serious” A Modern Lament

1st May 2026

It was, as all great national crises are, first noticed at the petrol pump.

There I stood, nozzle trembling, digits spinning upward with the enthusiasm of a fruit machine that had finally found religion. Somewhere in the distance perhaps in the collective subconscious of the nation I could hear John McEnroe bellowing across Centre Court:

“You cannot be serious!”

And yet, tragically, they were.

The Petrol Pump as Performance Art

Petrol prices are no longer a commodity; they are an immersive experience. One does not buy fuel anymore—one participates in a slow, existential theatre piece entitled “Guess How Much This Will Hurt.”

Each litre clicks by like a metronome of despair. The total climbs, your dignity falls, and somewhere a cheerful sign reminds you that you’ve earned two loyalty points, which can later be exchanged for a faint sense of betrayal.

Diesel, once the sensible cousin, has now joined the aristocracy—expensive, aloof, and utterly indifferent to your commute.

Council Tax: The Subscription Service Nobody Ordered

Then comes council tax, the great British tradition of paying handsomely for services you are fairly sure existed once, possibly during the reign of Queen Victoria.

Your bill arrives with the quiet confidence of a letter that knows it will be obeyed. It does not explain itself. It does not justify. It simply is.

Bins may or may not be collected. Roads may or may not resemble the surface of the moon. Streetlights flicker like they’re auditioning for a horror film. But the invoice? Immaculate. Prompt. Unyielding.

“You cannot be serious,” you whisper, holding the bill up to the light as if hidden meaning might reveal itself.

It does not.

Taxes: A Love Letter Written in Percentages

Taxes in general have achieved a kind of abstract purity. They are no longer merely deductions—they are a philosophy.

Income tax, national insurance, VAT… each one a gentle reminder that while you may earn money, it is more of a shared experience than a personal achievement. And don't get me started on "fiscal drag," that acts as a tax increase by stealth, as rising wages push more individuals into higher tax brackets or into paying income tax for the first time without any change to the headline tax rates. Aaaarg.

You begin to suspect that your payslip is less a financial document and more a puzzle, designed by particularly mischievous economists.

Somewhere, an accountant smiles.

The Cost of Living: A Competitive Sport

The cost of living has evolved into a competitive event. Milk, bread, electricity—each item engages in a quiet contest to see which can rise the fastest without triggering a full-scale revolution.

Supermarkets now resemble museums of former affordability. You wander the aisles, gazing wistfully at items you once purchased without requiring a small loan.

“Ah yes,” you murmur, pausing before a block of cheese. “We had some of that in 2019. A fine year.”

Holidays: Now Featuring Optional Movement
And then, of course, there are holidays.

Or rather, the idea of holidays.

Air travel, once a mildly unpleasant but achievable luxury, now comes with the added thrill of jet fuel economics. Flights are priced according to a complex algorithm involving oil markets, lunar cycles, and what can only be described as spite.

Budget airlines still exist, of course—but their definition of “budget” now refers primarily to legroom, oxygen, and hope.

You finally book something, only to discover that your suitcase costs extra, your seat costs extra, and breathing during turbulence is strongly discouraged unless pre-paid.

“You cannot be serious,” you say again, this time while selecting a £38 sandwich at the airport.

The Oddities That Tip Us Over the Edge

It’s not just the big things. It’s the little absurdities that complete the picture.

Paying more for a smaller chocolate bar, in what experts call “shrinkflation” and normal people call “daylight robbery.”

Subscription services for things that were once free, including, but not limited to, doorbells.
Parking meters that require three apps, two passwords, and a minor sacrifice.

At some point, reality itself begins to feel like it’s been outsourced.

Final Set: Reality vs Sanity

And so we arrive at the modern condition: a nation quietly muttering McEnroe’s immortal line under its breath while tapping contactless cards with increasing resignation.

Because the truth is, it is serious.

Absurdly, relentlessly, undeniably serious.

And yet, in the grand British tradition, we cope not with revolution, but with sarcasm, mild irritation, and a cup of tea that now costs £4.20.

“You cannot be serious,” we say one last time.

But deep down, we know.

They absolutely are.