Who Luvs Ya Baby - The Psychology of Lollipop People

This afternoon my live-in Human arrived home from work in a foul mood ranting about something called 'kin lollipop people. He sat on the bed, tickled my belly and recounted this story about these lollipop people who, it seems, have upset him this afternoon.

I have to say I wasn't really listening so may have misunderstood bits and pieces but here goes...

On my way home from work I have to pass through the village where there is a primary school on the main road, outside of which lives an evil Lollipop Lady (Editor's note : I'm assuming this is a female Lollipop Person). This wild lady with fluorescent yellow skin has a tendency to leap out in front of oncoming traffic and prevent law abiding motorists from going about their business by waving a fearsome pole arm bearing the legend 'Stop Children' (Editors Note - Stopping children is a bit harsh as children aren't the main problem here and if you stop them completely there is no need for the school).

By all accounts this wild lollipop lady is then almost impossible to move until a constant stream of Humans of all sizes are allowed to cross the road in front of the patiently waiting motorists - sometimes for upwards of 2 hours (Think you might be exaggerating as I know you finish work at 3pm and you were home by 20 past)

The problem is then compounded by hundreds (are you sure?) of youngish females all driving articulated lorries (really!) and then abandoning them all over the road while they pick up their precious psychotic children - all because they are either too fat or too lazy to walk home like we did when we were young. If I'd been collected from school I'd've been the laughing stock of all my friends.

Just around the corner from the school is a Zebra crossing inhabited by another of these lollipop people - this time a male - who feels it is his duty to stand in the middle of the crossing allowing virtually the whole population of western Europe to cross the road before letting one or two cars past so that they can join the queue to watch the aforementioned lollipop lady perform her mesmerising routine one hundred yards further down the road.

Roll on half-term.....

I can only assume they are called lollipop people because they suck.

A pat on the back for anyone old enough to get the Kojack reference in the title