Whistlers

Peruvian traffic control works on the basis of making so much godawful noise motorists have to drive faster just to get away from it.
Policemen and women stand at various strategic corners and junctions, armed with deafening whistles which they blast with unnerving regularity. Shrill ear-splitting toots which pierce the air and whatever heads happen to be in the vicinity at the time.
Pheeet, pheeet, PHEEET, PHEEEEET!!!!!! The noise is just unbefuckinglievable.
I guess the idea is to keep whistling at the traffic until it moves on, only, of course, it's replaced by more traffic which needs to be whistled at too.
I was woken up at 7am this morning by some gobshite blasting away as if trying to wake the dead. No wonder I'm knackered.
Even now, as I type, there's another outside tooting her whistle like a maniac. Of course nobody is paying any bit of attention at all, and the street is choked up with traffic. And still she blows. Somebody should stick that whistle up her arse.
But they're everywhere. Even the streets with little or no traffic can have a whistle-happy nutjob blasting and whistling like a demented parrot, face red from the constant strain, but giving all they've got to let the world know they're there.
That desire to feel important has catastrophic consequences.