1000 Tiny Things I Hate

#0191. DARTS PLAYER STEVE BEATON'S SUBTLE EDITING OF HIS WIKIPEDIA ENTRY.

2012-01-16T09:57:00.000Z

You're a darts player. Though you have no children, you're highly, highly, highly virile. You want this to come across in your Wikipedia entry. But how to express your rampant, rampant masculinity without appearing all 'Raoul Moat'?

Simple.

#0190. GIRLS WITH BIG BOOBS WHO JUST MOAN ABOUT HOW THEY GIVE THEM BACKACHE.

2011-12-15T21:06:00.004Z

Oh, great. Thanks for ruining the magic. It's like finding out my iPad was made by eyeless Vietnamese slave-orphans.

#0189. THE LOVE SHACK.

2011-12-08T13:30:00.007Z

Do you know what I’m going to do if I ever see a faded sign by the side of the road that says 15 miles to the Love Shack? I’m going to drive on 15 miles, pull over, find somewhere to park up, turn the engine off, get out my car, and I’m going to stand there on the hard shoulder making the wanker hand for ever and ever and ever and ever.

#0188. JUSTIN’S HOUSE.

2011-12-07T14:14:00.004Z

A miscellany of things I hate about Justin’s House:

1) The episode where Ashley from Coronation Street was the surprise special guest. Because if you ask any typical five-year-old, “Who would you choose out of anyone in the whole entire world to come through that big red door?” They’d think for a second, then they’d look at you with a sparkle in their eye and they’d say, “Stephen Arnold!”

2) Lowest Common Denominator!!!! He falls over. He puts a cake in his face. He falls over. He gets wet. Four words: LOWEST COMMON DENOMINATOR BULLSHIT!!!!!

3) Robert the Robot. Giving asexual robotic butlers a bad name.

4) The way sometimes the kids in the audience are wearing coats. So, not only is Justin’s House a garish, panto hellhole populated entirely by middle-aged people dressed like children standing around in a semi-circle shouting, it’s also cold.

5) The way it’s so long. I once did a disastrous best man speech based around a game of anecdote bingo that went on for about an hour and ten minutes. Toward the end, people were just openly talking at normal room-volume and checking their phones. It was a slow, painful ordeal. Like 127 Hours, but not as funny. Justin’s House is the only thing I’ve ever encountered that feels longer than that speech.

In summary... if you thought Gigglebiz was shit – and if you didn’t you were either in it or you wrote it – just wait until you get a load of Justin’s House. It makes Grandpa In My Pocket look like The Magnificent Ambersons.

# 187. WORLD FOOTBALL PHONE-IN'S MARK OF RESPECT.

2011-12-06T10:14:00.001Z

What is the sound of four hands clapping?

#0186. THE WAY MY WIFE HAS TO CONSTANTLY KNOW WHAT I'M DOING.

2010-06-16T10:23:00.013+01:00

Here's a rough summary of my day:

#0185. THE WAY PARENTS GO ON AND ON ABOUT HOW AMAZING THEIR NEWBORN BABY IS, AS IF TO IMPLY IT'S SOMEHOW BETTER THAN ME.

2010-06-09T09:56:00.004+01:00

Yeah. Fine. It's a nice baby.

I'm a nice bloke. So.

#0184. LOSING AT FOOTBALL TO A TEAM OF BULLY-BOYS, THEN HAVING TO SPEND THE WHOLE JOURNEY HOME COMFORTING MYSELF THAT I'M "BETTER AT OTHER THINGS."

2010-06-04T10:10:00.009+01:00

The 'other things' I've managed to come up with so far:

1) Reading
2) Gaming (possibly)
3) Cookery?
4) …

#0183. TURNING UP LATE FOR A MEETING AND JOVIALLY DECLARING "A WIZARD ARRIVES PRECISELY WHEN HE MEANS TO!" THEN REALISING IT'S QUITE A SERIOUS MEETING

2010-04-28T10:36:00.009+01:00

... and that this was almost entirely inappropriate. Then having to linger around after the meeting just to apologise again for being late but this time without doing the Gandalf thing.

#0182. THE WAY THE ONE MAN WEARING A KILT TO THE WEDDING HAS TO CONSTANTLY REFERENCE THE FACT THAT HE'S WEARING A KILT TO THE WEDDING.

2010-04-20T09:58:00.004+01:00

#0181. PEOPLE WHO'D RATHER WALK AROUND ALL DAY DOING THIS FACE...

2010-04-16T09:36:00.008+01:00

... than buy a cheap pair of fucking sunglasses.

Squinty fuckers.

#0180. THE FACT THAT NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU MAY LIKE MASTURBATING, YOU WILL NEVER, NEVER, NEVER, NEVER, NEVER LIKE IT AS MUCH AS FRANCIS ROSSI.

2010-04-14T09:49:00.008+01:00

Rossi on wanking:

God. It's like he has to be into it just that little bit more than you. It's my friend Mike and "Mad Men" all over again.

#0179. STEADILY CHANNEL-SURFING WITH MY WIFE; TURNING ONTO A PAIR OF GIRL'S TITS; INSTINCTIVELY BREAKING MY RHYTHM TO TAKE A LOOK AT THE GIRL'S TITS--

2010-04-01T10:21:00.013+01:00

Then realising that my wife has noticed that we're no longer channel-surfing and that we're now just watching a pair of girl's tits, and then having to pretend that there's something wrong with the remote control.

"Ah. Batteries gone in the old-- Yep, needs new AAs. Sadly... Oh god though look at those horrible plastic tits on the TV! Oh I feel sick! Just wish I could turn them over. Because I'm trying but I just… Nope. Sorry you'll have to get up and do it manually... OK frankly I don't care if you are pregnant."

#0178. GETTING A FACEBOOK UPDATE NOTIFYING ME THAT SOMEONE I WORKED WITH IN A VIDEO SHOP NINE YEARS AGO, "HAS BECOME A FAN OF 'THE TOBY CARVERY.'"

2010-03-24T09:43:00.023Z

I'll be totally honest, I thought social networking had bottomed out the day I read this:

But today. Today I went deeper. Today I discovered the Hope Diamond of inane social network bullshit.

There it is, in among the Mafia Wars (obviously) updates:

And somehow, it just felt like the end.

#0177. THE WAY MY FRIEND DAVE BRAGS ABOUT HOW LONG HE'S COOKED SOMETHING FOR IN HIS SLOW-COOKER.

2010-03-18T14:06:00.014Z

Eight hours. Apparently.

Put it on when he went to work.

Had it when he came home again.

Delicious.

Very tender.

Really taste the cooking juices in the meat.

But yeah.

Eight hours.

Slow-cooked.

All day.

Casserole.

Tender.

Soft onions.

Juices.

Not mushy at all.

Meat.

Nice with a bit of crusty bread.

Eight hours.

Carrots.

Stock.

Eight hours.

Delicious.

Fuck me Dave that is interesting.

#0176. WAVING AT THE OLD MAN WHO LIVES NEARBY; GETTING BLANKED EVERY TIME; BECOMING ANGRY; STARTING TO DO HUGE SARCASTIC WAVES JUST TO SPITE HIM...

2010-03-11T09:34:00.023Z

Then finding out he's clinically blind.

So Jim Taylor, if you are able to read this, can I just take this opportunity to say that I'm really...

(Font big enough for you, is it?)

#0175. WANKING STANDING UP.

2010-03-09T09:07:00.008Z

It's like somehow, post-dogging, it just all of a sudden feels so sleazy.

Sad, but I'm afraid wanking standing up has been robbed of its innocence.

So thanks for nothing, doggers. That used to be a real time-saver.

#0174. "SORRY FOR WASTING YOUR TIME, OFFICER."

2010-03-04T10:10:00.012Z

The extent to which I kiss a police officer's arse after he's pulled me over for a minor traffic infringement is truly revolting.

In fact no, this goes beyond arse-kissing into some whole other thing.

It's like I'm literally sucking his dick. And he's not even asking me to do it. I'm just doing it because it feels right.

How else do you explain my parting shot, once he's already decided to let me off with a caution, and he's walking away from my car, and I call after him, with absolute sincerity:

He hears me, but doesn't even look round

God. That actually makes me feel sad.

#0173. THE CONTINUED DECLINE OF SEX ADVICE ON THE INDIAN CONTINENT.

2010-03-02T09:40:00.017Z

First off, I'll tell you what is absolutely normal...

When jerking off with friends, simply think about how normal it is and the chances are it'll be perfectly bloody normal!

Next, a definitive answer to an age-old conundrum:

To summarise: no, giving semen to your short girlfriend will probably not make her taller.

Hey all you under-confident sex-pests, listen up!

So just remember, bashful rapists -- if you want to grope someone, propose to them first!

A 26-year-old virgin writes:

"If it does its duty and then goes back to looking like a tortoise head it is fine." I mean, that just sounds like the kind of thing a doctor says.

And finally, because it's not all biology and saving lives in the online Indian sex advice sector, a little joke for you:

Ah, that is the height of being realistic! Absolutely bloody classic!

#0172. THE WAY MY DAD SARCASTICALLY ANSWERS THE CONTINUITY ANNOUNCER, BEFORE TURNING OVER LIKE IT'S THE COOLEST THING IN THE WORLD.

2010-02-26T09:18:00.006Z

#0171. THE WAY ALL BULLIES ARE REALLY GOOD AT THAT THING WHERE YOU ROLL UP A TEA-TOWEL, THEN WHIP SOMEONE (ME) ACROSS THE ARSE WITH IT.

2010-02-19T10:26:00.009Z

There is nothing in all of modern life quite as emasculating as this.

The yelp; the instinctive clutching of the buttocks; the mini jump forward; the botched attempt at revenge; the act of mercy on behalf of the bully where he tries to show you how to do it; the free shot at his arse he subsequently offers; the failure to make anything like a decent connection...

The sad fact is, all it takes is a rolled-up tea-towel and a quick snap of the wrist and within the blink of an eye I'm Olive Oyl to the bully-boy's Bluto.

#0170. YOUR FRIEND'S BAND.

2010-02-12T09:43:00.004Z

Let me tell you something. I only very recently reached a time in my life where none of my friends are in bands. And do you know what?

It feels amazing.

Do you have any idea how long I've waited for this? How many years I've dreamt of a life free from the dread obligation of attending two/three shitty 30-minute gigs a year? Yeah -- a long, long, long time.

Especially with MySpace. Because now there's literally no excuse for not listening to their shitty four-minute demo. Then the feedback. "Yeah, god, brilliant. So much better than that last shitty four-minute demo I listened to that other time."

Fuck.

So yeah, cheers. But no. I will not be coming to see your friend's band.

#0169. THE WAY MY BARBER BACK-COMBS MY HAIR, THEN JUST WALKS AWAY MID-CUT AND LEAVES ME THERE LOOKING LIKE A TOTAL NONCE WHILE HE CHATS ON THE PHONE.

2010-02-10T09:26:00.011Z

There should be some kind of hairdressers' code of ethics about leaving ageing indie kids in front of huge mirrors for extended periods with no fringe and their receding hairlines exposed.

It's barbaric.

#0168. THE EQUALLY APPALLING STANDARD OF AMATEUR EROTIC FICTION ON THE INDIAN CONTINENT.

2010-02-05T09:30:00.008Z

You know, for a region with such a phenomenally high birthrate it's amazing anyone ever gets laid.

First up, "ice-creams." Plural. Daring choice, but it god it works.

Second, "rubbing a grassy turf." It's just a highly sensual and evocative image. Like he's really frantically rubbing her pubes.

And finally, what could be sexier than a "slimy" vagina? What woman wouldn't want her man to describe her genitals as "wet and slimy"?

Exactly.

#0167. THE NOISE MY DAD MAKES AT THE END OF FILMS.

2010-02-03T09:47:00.005Z

It's this: "Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm."

But the precise volume and length of the sound emitted is in direct correlation to the level of narrative satisfaction gained from the picture in question.

Compare and contrast his response to Planet of the Apes...

To his reaction to the Coen Brother's classic No Country For Old Men...

Wow, yeah. Quite annoying.

#0166. THE DAY IT ALL CAME DOWN TO THIS...

2010-01-27T09:00:00.007Z

Yeah. I used it.

And in one life's sickest ironies, it seems wiping your arse on a $100 bill does not feel luxurious.

#0165. THIS TOWEL.

2010-01-26T09:22:00.008Z

I'm not aware of the exact day this beach towel came into my life. You never are with these things. They just appear. Like melonomas. And the next thing you know it's "Bugs Bunny and the gang!" for every day of every holiday for the rest of your shitty little life.

And by the way, when was the last time anyone saw Taz in an actual cartoon?

I see him on socks. I see him on boxer shorts. I see him on a whole shitload of ties. I do not see him in cartoons.

The over-exposed, under-achieving cocksucker.

#0164. THE WAY EVERY ALIEN SPECIES IN THE GALAXY APPEARS TO HAVE ITS OWN UNIQUELY SHITTY BRAND OF WORLD MUSIC.

2010-01-21T14:42:00.005Z

If there's one thing we can be absolutely sure of the day we finally "make contact" it's that the extraterrestrial civilisation we encounter will have developed its own uniquely shitty brand of world music.

No doubt we'll get a chance to hear it in all its shitty glory at the bullshit ceremony they'll throw in our honour, where they'll probably perform some vaguely tribal ritual involving a lot of drumming and some shitty fanfare played on a musical instrument made from a brightly coloured animal horn.

God, I'm dreading it already.

#0163. "ERM, OK GUYS, HERE'S A QUESTION FOR YOU, BIT OUT OF LEFTFIELD BUT HERE GOES… THE JAFFA CAKE: NOW IS THAT A CAKE OR A BISCUIT?"

2010-01-19T09:16:00.002Z

"Wow! God. That is such a good question. It's funny, it's irreverent, it's original. I mean, it's been literally weeks since someone asked me that. And now I seriously cannot wait to spend the next five to ten minutes engaging in low-level banter with you about the difference between cakes and biscuits. In fact, my hands are physically trembling in anticipation of that bit where you play your trump card and reveal that it's all down to some piece of VAT legislation regarding chocolate confectionary. Crikey, I feel like I'm living inside the most brilliant instalment of QI ever recorded! Just please tell me you've got another stick of small-talk dynamite up your sleeve… What's that? Now you're asking me, "OK then, what's the difference between dwarves and midgets?" Oh, bravo. Just when I thought your ability to stimulate light-hearted, off-the-wall conversation was on the wane, you pull this nugget out of the bag! How do you think of these things? Please, explain to me again about how the difference all comes down to the proportional length of their limbs! How uniquely fascinating! But hang on, before I can even draw breath, your skittish, butterfly mind has already floated away in search of the sweet nectar of fresh insights. Now you're telling me that the real irony of the Alanis Morissette song 'Ironic' is that the lyrics aren't ironic at all, merely unlucky! I'm reeling! Everything I knew or thought I knew has just been challenged. But yet at the same time I'm also laughing, because this is really funny stuff. Frankly who cares if it's a piece of old stand-up based on a 15-year-old song -- it's still topical! Yet somehow there's still more. Because finally you're going to love me and leave me with a rather cute little rhetorical question, one that puts everything into perspective, albeit in an off-beat kind of way…"

"OK. Get this -- so what if the Hokey-Cokey really is what it's all about?"

"My god. I swear that one gets every better time I hear someone new pass it off as their own."

#0162. THE APPALLING STANDARD OF INTERNET SEX ADVICE ON THE INDIAN CONTINENT.

2010-01-15T09:44:00.009Z

Let me give you an example.

Now, I'm no medical expert, but my advice in this particular instance would simply be, "Stop eating chocolates at work."

Oh, and in case you were wondering -- cricket and masturbation? Yeah turns out there's no real scientific link.

OK now here's a question our internet sex doctor from the Indian continent does know the answer to.

Granted, it's a fairly easy one.

And finally, boy asks doctor: "Is this normal?" Doctor tells boy: "No. No I'm afraid that's not quite normal."

#0161. THE WAY PHILL JUPITUS RECKONS HE'S REALLY INTO BASEBALL.

2010-01-14T09:45:00.001Z

I don't care how much Phill Jupitus thinks he's really into baseball. How much he thinks he loves the Boston Red Sox. How many times he thinks he's enjoyed watching them play.

I just do not and will not ever believe him.

British people talking about American sport -- it's like girls talking about football to the power of ten.

Oh, and I'm not nutty about the two LLs in Phill either.

FYI.

#0160. INADVERTENTLY WEARING A TOP -- OR COMBINATION OF TOPS -- THAT MAKES YOU LOOK LIKE A VICAR.

2009-12-17T14:59:00.004Z

The problem's compounded when, like this man, you naturally look quite a lot like a vicar anyway.

#0159. MY 'ONLY FOOLS AND HORSES' ALARM CLOCK.

2009-05-14T08:34:00.004+01:00

There are no nice alarm tones. No matter how calm and soothing they sound the night before, come 7.15am they're clanging death-bells being hammered with untuned violins. But sweet baby Jesus, there has to be a better way than this...

You have no idea how confusing it is to be woken up every day by having someone else's name shouted at you.

And not only is my first thought of the day, "Jesus Christ... I'm Nicholas Lyndhurst!" it's also quite obvious from the urgency in David Jason's voice that there's some kind of trouble afoot. Possibly involving Uncle Albert and/or an unpaid VAT bill relating to those Spanish calculators we shifted in the Nag's Head last week.

(And then I think, "Well, if all this goes belly up I could always live off Cassandra's income for a while. And thank god I've got that CGE in computers...")

Then it plays the theme tune. And I'm awake.

Welcome to the day.

Thanks, fuckers.

#0158. GETTING A BULLY-BOY IN A HEADLOCK, THEN REALISING YOU'VE PASSED THE POINT OF NO RETURN, AND THAT SUDDENLY YOU'RE QUITE RELUCTANT TO LET HIM GO.

2009-05-01T08:40:00.006+01:00

It's a bit like Guantanamo Bay -- you can keep them there indefinitely, but the longer you do, the higher the chance of reprisals afterwards.

Which is why I once held one particular bully-boy in a headlock for an entire 30-minute lunch-break.

Granted it wasn't recently.

But you know, I've got nothing to say about Swine Flu.

So.

#0157. THE WAY TV SPORTS PRESENTER JOHN INVERDALE ISN'T DISABLED.

2009-04-27T08:44:00.010+01:00

Seriously, have you ever seen anyone who'd look more at home in a wheelchair?

I can just see him now -- "Oi mate, give us a push!"

Or whatever it is people in wheelchairs say.

At the absolute least he's got the look of someone who works closely with the disabled. That's the dry, unstyled hair of a man who knows his way around an electric bath-lift.

But no, apparently he's fully able.

Confusing.

#0156. HIGHLY SPECIFIC INTERNET POLLS, AND THEIR LARGELY UNSURPRISING RESULTS.

2009-04-24T11:03:00.009+01:00

Oh yeah, there's something I've been meaning to ask you...

Just curious, because it's kind of a hot topic right now. Don't know whether you've heard, but it's pretty much the question on everyone's lips, sort of thing.

Hang on. The votes are in. They've been counted and verified by an independent adjudicator and I can now reveal the final result is as follows:

Wow. Glad we've finally cleared that one up.

#0155. POST-WOTSIT eMAC INTERFACING.

2009-03-20T10:42:00.008Z

I'm guessing Steve Jobs doesn't eat many Wotsits.

Because if he did he'd realise that having a white computer can be a real pain in the balls when you've just bought a multibag of highly orange corn snacks.

And it's not just an aesthetic thing. I'm pretty sure that if my girlfriend is ever going to find out about my grubby little secret hobby, it won't be the internet history that gives me away:

It'll either be that or the orange fingermarks on my penis.

#0154. ACCIDENTALLY LETTING IT SLIP THAT YOU'RE THE ONLY ONE IN A LARGE GROUP WHO REMEMBERS HOW 'WOMANIZER' BY BRITNEY SPEARS GOES.

2009-03-13T08:23:00.006Z

Because there is no peer pressure in the world that compares with the one where everyone just stands looking at you going:

"Sing it."

"Yeah go on sing it!"

"Just sing it."

"Don't be such a nob, just sing it."

"Sing a bit of a it."

"Yeah at least sing a bit of it."

"Oi everyone -- Sing it! Sing it! Sing it! Sing it! Sing it!"

"I'd sing it if I knew it."

Until eventually you just give up and say, "OK, fine! I'll just sing a bit of it. God!"

And then you look down at your feet, and you let you let fly.

Happy now, bitches?

#0153. THE CONSTANT AND OVERWHELMING URGE TO LET MY ONE ASIAN FRIEND KNOW THAT I'VE FINALLY SEEN 'SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE.'

2009-03-02T13:40:00.009Z

It's only been 24 hours and already I'm getting the urge to text him with the big news. I'm 99% certain this is the final proof I'm not racist.

But I'll wait. I'll wait until we're next on the train together, then as soon as there's a natural lull in the conversation, I'll hit him with it.

ME: ... Oh god yeah by the way. FYI sort of thing -- I've seen it.

HIM: What sorry?

ME: You know, 'The Film.' I've seen it. Slumdog.

HIM: Right.

ME: Yep. Slumdog Millionaire. One third of the dialogue in Hindi.

HIM: Yeah?

ME: Oh yeah, easy. And loved it and everything. Oh and before I forget -- my favourite bit was the big dancing bit at the end. Shits all over the big dancing bit in Mama Mia.

HIM: Haven't seen it.

ME: Slumdog? Oh you really should. Mumbai though. So colourful! Colours! Vibrant! God it's vibrant. Too bloody vibrant, almost.

SILENCE.

HIM: Can't believe they're only running a four-coach service out of Euston.

ME: Hmm? Yeah.

#0152. AGEING, MIDDLE-CLASS ENGLISH MEN WITH THE KIND OF HAIR YOU'RE ONLY SUPPOSED TO SEE AT ORGIES OR ASSASSINS CONVENTIONS.

2009-02-24T09:38:00.012Z

"Hang on... OK it's a woman. Phew! For one second I thought that was an old man with a pony... Oh my god, it is! It's a dude! ... Jesus Christ that's revolting..."

"Shit, he's coming this way! He's coming, he's coming, he's coming! ... Oh my god, what if it touches me?! ..."

"OK, he's gone... And I think I've just been sick in my mouth."

#0151. SPANISH GOTHS WHO'D JUST PREFER IT IF CHICKS KNEW UPFRONT THAT THEY'RE REALLY AWESOME AT PLAYING THE GUITAR.

2009-02-11T14:19:00.011Z

Because there's just no point in trying to keep it a secret. OK, you can probably hide the fact that you're a really amazing guitarist for the first couple of dates, but then what?

There she is, in a relationship with some bloke who she thinks is just a nice, ordinary, average guy then BANG -- six months down the line she finds out that, actually, he can play the solo from 'Free Bird' without even looking down at his fingers.

That's just not fair.

#0150. DOCTORS WHO DO THE WHOLE "SO, WHAT DO YOU DO FOR A LIVING?" THING DURING THE GENITAL EXAM AND NOT, FOR EXAMPLE, BEFORE OR AFTER.

2009-02-04T10:01:00.005Z

I'm happy to exchange small talk with my doctor. Really not a problem. It's just, if it's all the same to him, I'd rather do it when I had my pants on, when there wasn't a spotlight burning onto my nutsack, and when he's very much not firmly rubbing my testicles between his thumb and forefinger.

Because to be honest, there's just something about trying to describe Nicholas Lyndhurst while another man cradles your balls that feels quite weird.

#0149. OLD MEN WHO RECKON THEY'RE REALLY GOOD WITH COMPUTERS.

2009-01-28T10:24:00.004Z

And I tell you what's even more annoying -- old men who shout "NOW THEN!" all the time, as if they're about to tell you something really amazing, but who then don't actually have anything to say at all.

#0148. BREAKING OUT MY JAZZIEST, COOLEST, MOST AWESOME FONTS, THEN HORRIBLY MISJUDGING HOW MUCH SPACE I'VE GOT TO PLAY WITH.

2009-01-19T08:44:00.002Z

Always the cocksucking Y.

#0147. WORKING HARD/PLAYING HARD.

2009-01-12T09:53:00.013Z

Working hard -- fine. Playing hard -- not really a massive fan.

From what I can gather, 'playing hard' mainly involves clocking off from work, not even having time to change your socks or have any tea, immediately engaging in some kind of contact sport and not having a bubble bath afterwards, then drinking beer and taking the piss out of your colleague Jacko for his terrible bloody taste in work ties while missing Ross Kemp On Gangs, before finally going to a nightclub and staying up really late talking to girls who've never even heard of Fallout 3.

Er... no thanks!

You fucking losers.

#0146. STANDING AT BAGGAGE RECLAIM AND REALISING THAT THE NEW IMAGE YOU CULTIVATED WHILE ON HOLIDAY MIGHT NOT WORK IN THE "NON-HOLIDAY" CONTEXT.

2009-01-05T09:16:00.013Z

Yes I'm talking to you, Man In The Cowboy Hat With The Rolled-Up Jacket Sleeves Who's Obviously Just Been On Holiday To LA.

Look at the body language. He's already worrying about what he's going to say the first time he walks back into his local pub.

"What this hat? Nah I've always worn it, but erm... so, drinks?"

#0145. "NOW, HAVE YOU EVER BEEN TO NANDO'S BEFORE?"

2008-12-16T09:16:00.007Z

Every week I'm in Nando's. And every week I'm served by the same man. And yet every week he utters the same seven words, each one a dagger through my heart:

"Have you ever been to Nando's before?"

This is what I want to say: "Yes I have you insensitive bastard. You served me, remember? Oh I'm just a number to you, aren't I? I'm just the number on that little metal chicken you stick into my table. Well fuck you, and I tell you what, fuck Nando. I said it. At least Colonel Sanders has the balls to put his face on his restaurants. Prick."

This is what I actually say: "Yes."

But I know what's really going on here. They're just pretending they don't remember me so they can keep my self-esteem down and I won't realise I can do better and start eating in Pizza Express.

Well it won't work Nando, you fucker.

And another thing -- that sink next to the drinks machine? Tacky Nando. Very tacky.

#0144. TRYING TO BLOW-UP AN INFLATABLE MATTRESS WHEN YOU'RE QUITE DRUNK AND YOU'VE GOT A REALLY WEAK GAG REFLEX.

2008-12-12T09:16:00.005Z

(You'll need sound.)

#0143. SPANISH AMATEUR PORNOGRAPHERS AND THE CONTINUED SQUANDERING OF THEIR NATURAL RESOURCES.

2008-12-05T16:39:00.007Z

I mean for god's sake, you've got a hot Mediterranean woman in knee-high sexboots and impractical underpants -- surely it's impossible to make her look unsexy. Right?

Apparently not if you're an amateur pornographer and you're from Spain. All you do is pose her at a cheap keyboard, lay some sheet music out, then put a pair of jumbo headphones on her as if to suggest she's currently listening to the demo track.

And there you go. Job done. Seriously, they shouldn't be allowed to make their own pornography if this is the kind of sick rubbish they're going to peddle.

#0142. UNIMAGINATIVE LOCAL NEWSPAPER HEADLINES.

2008-12-05T10:01:00.003Z

Come on, that's not a headline, that's just the first sentence of the article in a really big font. And OK, I appreciate you have to be sensitive with these things, but a little pun isn't going to hurt anyone, is it?

I'm thinking 'Meat Head,' I'm thinking 'Chop Shop', I'm thinking 'Heads Will Roll.' I don't know, not my job. But give me something.

#0141. USING A PIECE OF GYM EQUIPMENT IMMEDIATELY AFTER A WOMAN OR A CHILD.

2008-12-03T09:38:00.003Z

I mean, obviously I can benchpress like, you know, a whole shitload of weight. And as for reps, don't talk to me about reps. I have got reps coming out of my arsehole. We're talking anywhere between five and ten.

Unfortunately it seems however high I like my weight settings on a given piece of gym equipment, the woman or child who used it immediately before me always had it set quite a lot higher.

Which is when I have to go through the elaborate charade of pretending to put the weight setting up while sneakily taking it down to somewhere around the 5kg level, then completing my five reps, then covertly putting it back really high for the next person.

It's more exhausting than my actual work-out . Which is punishing. Obviously.

#0140. WEDDINGS I'M NOT INVITED TO THAT I DIDN'T WANT TO GO TO ANYWAY.

2008-11-27T12:12:00.007Z

To be honest I'm not all that fussed about going to your wedding, whoever you are. (No offence Dave.) But if I find out that you don't want me there, I swear to god I will move heaven and earth to make sure I somehow wangle an invite.

Emotional blackmail, family feuding, generic moodiness, I won't rest until I've forced you into begrudgingly having that "Oh god, for the sake of an easy life shall we just invite him?" conversation. And all to make sure I can be a part of your very special day that I'm actually not all that arsed about.

Because frankly that's the kind of mate I am.

#0139. THE WAY GAYS ARE ALLOWED TO GROPE THEIR FEMALE FRIENDS AND WATCH THEM GET CHANGED AND THAT.

2008-11-19T08:41:00.007Z

And yet when I do it, it gets all, "Oh, that's really creepy and inappropriate, I think you should just leave, and now I'm in a really difficult position because I don't know whether to tell your girlfriend or not. Anyway, you're not even really my friend, you're just a mate of Jason's and I only met you about two hours ago. No seriously, stop touching them."

It's a double standard, plain and simple.

#0138. OPENING THE TOILET CUBICLE DOOR TO DISCOVER THIS...

2008-11-17T10:53:00.005Z

What does this mean? Is it some kind of internationally recognised toilet-based emergency symbol that I don't know about?

Seriously, what kind of mess do you have to make to get to the stage where you think, "I'm not even going to try the toilet brush on that one. In fact, I've no choice but to construct some kind of makeshift warning symbol to ward away future toilet-goers."

And it stank.

#0137. THE WAY MY NAN CAN NEVER ADMIT WHEN SHE'S FALLEN OVER.

2008-11-14T08:55:00.004Z

There is no greater disgrace for an old woman than to fall over. It's the OAP equivalent of being caught having sex with a child. If my nan were a samurai, the moment she wiped-out she'd reach for her Katana blade and slice open her own stomach.

Which might explain why it is that, having fallen over in what seems like slow-motion (my nan tripping over is a bit like a computer simulation of the Titanic going down) she instantly springs back to her feet. And so, the great cover-up begins.

ME: Oh my god nan, are you OK?

NAN: Yes thanks.

ME: You didn't hurt yourself?

NAN: When sorry?

ME: When you fell over? Just now?

NAN: Mmm?

ME: You fell.

NAN: Who did sorry?

ME: Oh I get it, OK. Well, I know. So.

Seriously, next time she goes over, I'm filming it.

#0135. MY MUM'S 'TELLING ME OFF IN PUBLIC' VOICE.

2008-10-23T09:01:00.003+01:00

My mum will never shout at me in public. Ever. No matter how badly I may be showing off at the time.

But that's not to say she won't tell me off. It's just that when she does, she uses her special 'telling me off in public' voice, that only I can hear.

It's like a pistol with the silencer on; still just as effective, but way, way more discreet.

The lips barely move. Which possibly explains why I've had a lifelong fear of ventriloquism.

#0134. NERD RAGE.

2008-10-15T09:12:00.008+01:00

There's a special kind of whininess you only hear when someone's playing videogames. It's called 'Nerd Rage' -- also known as 'The Gamer's Tears' -- and it comes in phases, like so:

Phase 1: Anger.

Phase 2: Self-pity.

Phase 3: The Cry for Help.

Phase 4: Resignation.

Phase 5: Fuck this, I'm taking this game back and getting a refund. In fact, I'm turning it off RIGHT NOW and putting the game by the front door so I don't forget.

Or, to give a practical example:

And that's just if you're lucky. Because when you've got 'Nerd Rage' real bad, the results can be horrible.

I feel your pain kiddo.

#0133. MUTES WHO WITNESS MURDERS.

2008-10-13T09:34:00.003+01:00

Fucking mutes. They always seem to be witnessing something. A murder, a robbery, a rape. It's like they've always got to be sticking their big silent beaks in where they're not wanted.

Oi mutes -- how about you just get on with your own lives for once?

#0132. MY DAD'S ABSOLUTE, UNRELENTING, NON-NEGOTIABLE INSISTENCE THAT I "TUCK IN."

2008-10-10T08:33:00.005+01:00

I don't take kindly to being over-encouraged to "tuck in."

MY DAD: There you go kid. Tuck in!

ME: Thanks.

MY DAD: Go on my son. Just dig in!

ME: Yep, will do.

MY DAD: We don't stand around on ceremony in this house. Eat!

ME: Uh-huh.

MY DAD: There's no point just sitting there looking at it!

ME: Well I wasn't, so.

MY DAD: Go on kiddo. Really get amongst it!

ME: OK, got it.

MY DAD: Grab a knife, grab a fork and just...

ME: DAD I'VE ALREADY STARTED EATING.

LONG SILENCE

ME: Sorry for shouting.

#0131. LITTLE GIRLS BETWEEN THE AGE OF SEVEN AND 13 WHO REALLY LOVE READING.

2008-10-08T09:32:00.005+01:00

I'm referring specifically to the kind of little girl who drags her mum around Waterstone's shouting, "Oh mummy, I just can't understand why all children my age don't read more. Think of what they're missing!"

Now I'm not saying we shouldn't teach little girls to read. But we should definitely think about taking their books away if they're going to start getting all gay about it.

Anyway, they need to learn to enjoy books like an adult. Which means: A) only reading books because they think they're supposed to; and B) exclusively reading books that are much too brainy for them just because they've got a nice front cover, then having to spend the duration constantly referring to the little synopsis on the back just to double check what's going on.

You know, like a grown-up.

#0130. THE 'PRISON AS HOLIDAY CAMP' METAPHOR.

2008-10-06T08:36:00.005+01:00

I'm guessing anyone still using this metaphor hasn't actually been to a holiday since the 1950s. Because the last time I took a look inside Butlins it was exactly how I imagined a really horrible prison to be.

Tiny little rooms, crappy food, rubbish entertainment... frankly, the threat of doing ten years hard time banged up inside Pontins is enough to put me off raping anyone for, like, ages.

#0129. "MY UNCLE THE ALIEN."

2008-09-25T15:59:00.006+01:00

Here's the pitch: what if… your uncle was an alien?

Your uncle, is an alien. Let's just take a minute to really think about how that might feel.

"Erm, yeah. Suppose you want to know about my uncle. The alien. How does it feel? Well I don't really see that much of him to be honest. I mean he's just my uncle so. Probably only get together once or twice a year, maybe Christmas. And I suppose when I do see him it is pretty weird, but it doesn't really affect me day-to-day. I suppose it's a bit like if your uncle had diabetes or something -- you're aware of it and all that, but it's a tiny, tiny part of your life."

"Now his own wife and children on the other hand, I imagine the whole thing must've hit them pretty hard. And I bet funny stuff happens to them, like, all the time. Dunno, you'd have to ask them about all that. I'm not really that close to that side of the family."

"As for me, like I say, not really that much of a big deal."

#0128. THE WAY THIS MAN HAD OBVIOUSLY BEEN GIVEN 'BOOTS THE CHEMIST' GIFT VOUCHERS FOR HIS BIRTHDAY AND SPENT THEM ALL ON TRAVEL-BASED ACCESSORIES.

2008-09-23T20:07:00.003+01:00

#0127. INAPPROPRIATELY COMICAL SIGN LANGUAGE.

2008-09-22T07:20:00.002+01:00

Can we all agree that we could do with a slightly less insensitive gesture to represent the fatal road accident?

And anyway, who makes a face like that when they're using a mobile phone?

#0126. BOARDGAME STATIONERY ANXIETY.

2008-09-19T08:41:00.006+01:00

Phase 1) "You know what -- I don't give a shit. I'm buying the Family Fortunes boardgame."

Phase 2) "Oh my god, this is literally the best boardgame I've ever played. I'm definitely playing it every day from now on!"

Phase 3) "Hang on… look how thin these answer pads are! There's probably only about… 50 sheets. That's only 50 games!"

Phase 4) "OK, OK let's not panic. Maybe I could get in touch with the people at Milton Bradley -- maybe they sell the stationery separately. But then what if you have to buy the whole game again just to get the little pads? I'll email them tomorrow and find out. Or… what if I just photocopied one of the sheets? Then I could run off thousands of them and I could play forever. Trouble is, they wouldn't be bound in little notebook form. Unless, I got a quote from the printers for adhesive binding. Can't cost that much…"

Phase 5) Six months later: it's in the loft.

#0125. THE QUOTES ON THE FRONT OF KNOCK-OFF DVDS.

2008-09-17T08:42:00.004+01:00

You know something -- I'm almost starting to suspect that the people who design the sleeves for counterfeit DVDs just go online, find the first review they can then choose a quote at random.

Because frankly, this wasn't much of an inducement to buy Gone Baby Gone...

I mean come on, it's no "Rollercoaster ride of a movie!" is it?

#0124. ANY KIND OF 'HUMAN WITH AN EXOTIC ANIMAL' PHOTO.

2008-09-15T08:53:00.004+01:00

No good can ever come from having your photo taken with an exotic animal.

Because here's something that never happens -- you get a photo of yourself taken with a pink dolphin and you go, "Oh my god, that's a really nice photo. I just love the colours and the way it's composed and the texture. In fact, I'm going to buy a really nice frame for it and hang in the living room."

Never happens. Not ever.

Which is why photos of 'you with an exotic animal' are like Nazi war medals -- if you've got one, you know where you've hidden it.

#0123. LITERALLY HAVING SAND KICKED IN MY FACE.

2008-09-12T08:04:00.003+01:00

Turns out this kind of thing doesn't only happen in Beanotown and 1950s adverts for badly made body-building equipment.

So there I was, relaxing on a tropical beach in a long-sleeved T-shirt, sunhat and money belt with all the other hunks, when an adult male bully-boy jogged past and -- for no good reason -- aimed a load of the yellow stuff right at my face.

Here's the bully in question:

OK so admittedly I had just taken a photograph of his wife's arse, but still.

#0122. THE WAY WHENEVER I LOSE ANYTHING IN A HOTEL ROOM -- NO MATTER WHAT IT IS -- I ALWAYS IMMEDIATELY ASSUME THE MAID'S STOLEN IT.

2008-09-10T08:31:00.003+01:00

"Carly, have you seen the other beach ball bat? I left it on the bed. Definitely... Oh Jesus. I don't believe this. I bet the maid's had it! Unbelievable! For god's sake, they will literally steal anything! It's absolutely taking the piss! I mean, what are they even going to do with one beach ball bat?! It makes you sick, it really does... Wait, no. It was just under the beach towel."

#0121. THE DISCOVERY THAT SPECULUMS ARE SOMEWHAT WIDER THAN I MAY HAVE BEEN LED TO BELIEVE.

2008-09-08T08:37:00.007+01:00

Here's my one word review of colonic irrigation: unsoothing.

Don't get me wrong, once they've got the speculum into your arsehole and you can just lay back and chat, it's almost bearable. It's all the going in and taking it back out again that got on my nerves.

All of which has led me to conclude that I'd probably be OK with being bummed, so long as the bloke doing it just put it inside me and left it there for a bit, and didn't start pratting about with it.

#0120. "THE CRAIC."

2008-09-04T08:32:00.006+01:00

I hate everything about "the craic", up to and including:

* Any person who has ever described themselves as "up for the craic."

* Any activity or undertaking that has ever been carried out "just for the craic."

* I even hate the way it's spelt. "The craic." God, that's annoying.

It's bullshit. No one even knows what it means. It's just another way for everyone to pretend they're a little bit more Irish.

So anyway, I did a bit of research. And everything I hate about "the craic" can be summed up in the following quotation:

Exactly.

#0119. PUBLIC DISPLAYS OF SUB-CONSCIOUS BOTTLE-BASED SURROGATE PENIS FONDLING.

2008-09-03T08:33:00.004+01:00

Now, I'm no body language expert...

#0118. THE WAY I IMMEDIATELY TRANSFORM INTO SOME KIND OF UPPER-CLASS RETIRED GENERAL THE MOMENT I CHECK INTO A HOTEL.

2008-09-01T08:48:00.003+01:00

So there I am, queuing up to check in, just my average, everyday self.

Next thing you know, I'm marching through the swimming pool area in a pair of shorts with a rolled up broadsheeet under my arm barking "MORNING!" at terrified housekeepers.

Because this isn't just any old standard "good morning." This is "MORNING!" and it's my default "I'm-staying-in-a-posh-hotel" greeting. (You'll need the volume up...)

It's 50% polite greeting, 50% firm instruction, as in: "You will have a good morning or I will hunt you down and kill you."

#0117. THE WAY FAT COMEDIANS ALWAYS WEAR PATTERNED SUITS.

2008-08-29T08:48:00.005+01:00

What do you reckon the chances are that John Candy owned at least one XXXL wool suit in a nice green tartan?

#0116. THE FACT THAT YOU CAN'T BUY "BAHRAIN & BEYOND" IN THE UNITED KINGDOM.

2008-08-27T20:37:00.009+01:00

Ladies and gentlemen, I have discovered the finest magazine in the world. And that magazine is Bahrain & Beyond, the only publication in the history of the cosmos with the sheer editorial bollocks to run a generic feature on ice-cream (sample quote: "Due to the weather, ice-cream often melts quicker than it can be licked") ...

... and immediately follow that generic feature on ice-cream with a hard-hitting expose on radioactive former Soviet ghost town Prypiat...

That's right folks, this is a quarterly edited by a man with the brass balls to say, "Fuck it, let's just run a double-page spread on elephants."

And yet somehow this periodical is not available in the United Kingdom.

For which we Britons are all worse off.

#0115. LAUNCHING INTO AN ACCENT MIDWAY THROUGH AN ANECDOTE, REMEMBERING YOU'RE NOT VERY GOOD AT ACCENTS, THEN SLOWLY ABANDONING IT.

2008-07-22T08:00:00.004+01:00

#0114. MY "I'M IN A RESTAURANT AND THE WAITRESS IS CLEARING MY TABLE" FACE.

2008-07-15T08:41:00.011+01:00

This is my default table-clearing face, post 'that-was-lovely-thank-you' and pre 'can-we-have-the-bill-please'?

It's a variation on the basic 'I'm-a-good-boy-aren't-I-mummy?' face.

Which is probably something else I should think about not doing.

#0113. TRYING TO ALERT OLD WOMEN THAT YOU'RE WALKING RIGHT BEHIND THEM, PREPARING TO OVERTAKE.

2008-07-11T08:42:00.009+01:00

Because with old women there's always the danger that you're going to scare them very literally "to death."

Particularly when it's late, you're dressed all in black, you're clutching an umbrella that bears an uncanny resemblance to a truncheon and you're wearing a pair of leather strangler's gloves.

If only there was some kind of universally accepted special cough that said, "OK madam, I'm walking behind right you, and I'm unfortunately dressed like a sex pest, but trust me, I am not interested in raping you."

(Trouble is, once the actual rapists caught wind of this cough, we'd have to come up with something else, so it's probably not worth it.)

#0112. BEING VERY MUCH "NOT AMAZED" BY "THE THINGS SOME PEOPLE THROW AWAY."

2008-07-08T08:58:00.002+01:00

Fact: anyone who ever tells you, "You'd be amazed, the things some people throw away," has never spent any serious time rummaging through a skip.

#0111. THE WAY THE MAN ON THE TRAIN LAST NIGHT HAD TO GET EVERY LAST MORSEL FROM HIS GAY LITTLE TRIFLE.

2008-06-27T10:40:00.003+01:00

And is it just me, or does the final 30 seconds of this video -- the bit with the fingers -- remind anyone else of a woman masturbating?

#0110. THE WAY MY DAD ALWAYS USED TO TELL ME THAT THE ACTRESS WHO PLAYED OLIVE IN 'ON THE BUSES' WAS ACTUALLY REALLY HOT IN REAL LIFE.

2008-06-16T12:35:00.008+01:00

Oi dad -- remember that little kid you used to watch TV with? Nine years old, about four foot five, brown hair? Well guess what -- he grew up and he got the internet.

And look what he found the other day…

I knew it was bullshit.

#0109. FORGETTING JUST HOW LOUD YOUR CENTRAL LOCKING IS UNTIL YOU'RE SAT AT THE TRAFFIC LIGHTS, NEXT TO A MAN SELLING THE BIG ISSUE.

2008-06-09T13:38:00.005+01:00

And somehow, it's even louder if it's a black man selling the Big Issue.

#0108. DRAWINGS OF POPULAR CARTOON CHARACTERS HAVING SEX.

2008-05-29T09:54:00.004+01:00

I would question the need for anyone to devote their time to drawing a -- let's face it -- really pretty good portrait of Bart Simpson butt-fucking his sister Lisa.

But if you are going to do it, why bother drawing another picture of them doing it 'from behind'? It's such a cliche. And are we really expected to believe that cartoon characters only know one position?

Just once, I'd like to see a nice drawing of Bart fucking Lisa in the missionary position.

I mean, is that really too much to ask?

#0107. BATHROOMS FITTED WITH "LOOK-AT-YOUR-DICK" MIRRORS.

2008-05-20T09:22:00.007+01:00

Don't get me wrong, I quite like looking at my dick. I'm not obsessed with it or anything. I just like to spend some quality time with it now and again. You know, pamper it a little. Let it know that it doesn't always have to be about the sex.

But what I don't need is a full-length mirror behind the toilet so I can look at it while I'm urinating. I have enough trouble hitting the target as it is, without that to put me off.

So in a way, if you've got a bathroom fitted with a 'look-at-your-dick' mirror and I have pissed on your floor, you've only got yourself to blame really.

(All of which is a roundabout way of saying Susan, you might want to get some Shake 'N' Vac on that carpet.)

#0106. THE RUNNING COMMENTARY YOUR MUM GIVES YOU WHEN SHE'S SAT AT HER COMPUTER AND YOU'RE ON THE OTHER END OF THE PHONE, TRYING TO HELP HER.

2008-05-14T17:21:00.002+01:00

MUM: "So, I'm just going to open Word… Word, Word, Word… Where is Word… No, it's all right, got it. Opening it up… now. OK then… Oh, Talking Paperclip. Shall I shut the Talking Paperclip? I'll shut the Talking Paperclip… Shutting that… now… Right. File… Open… Oh. It's gone off. Why has it gone off? It's just gone off… Nope, wait. It was just loading…"

ME: "Tell you what, shall I just look at it next time I'm round?"

#0105. PEOPLE WHO PAINT ICE CREAM VANS AND THEIR COMPLETE INABILITY TO DRAW A DECENT MICKEY FUCKING MOUSE.

2008-05-13T12:10:00.012+01:00

Is it just me, or does anyone else immediately think of 'the Eastern Bloc' when they see a really badly painted Mickey Mouse on the side of an ice-cream van?

No? Not even a little bit? You're not even the tiniest bit thinking about Czechoslovakia or the Warsaw pact?

How about now? Nicolae Ceauşescu? The Brezhnev Doctrine? No? Nothing?

Now though, yeah? Now you're just sat there, imagining what the Czech Uprisings of 1968 might've looked like.

Yeah. I knew you'd come round.

#0104. BUMPING INTO SOMEONE YOU USED TO BE IN A BAND WITH DURING YOUR 'WAKING-UP-IN-VOMIT' DAYS, WHEN YOU'RE WITH YOUR FIANCEE, AT A LAMBING FARM.

2008-05-06T19:54:00.008+01:00

Turns out it's really hard to look cool when you're bottle-feeding a baby lamb.

#103. THE WAY THE MAN NEXT TO ME ON THE TRAIN LAST NIGHT SAT READING A JOKE BOOK AS THOUGH IT WERE A CLASSIC NOVEL.

2008-05-02T12:10:00.003+01:00

Look at him -- thoughtful, pensive, contemplative. What could he be reading?

Some Zola maybe? Or some Proust? Or maybe some Nick Horny? Or at the very least Angels and fucking Demons?

No. A joke book. A joke book about the internet. The arsehole.

#0102. HAVING TO GO FOR A CRAP NEXT TO SOMEONE WHO I NOW KNOW FOR A FACT IS A PRETTY KEEN GOLFER.

2008-04-28T17:50:00.006+01:00

When it comes to toilet cubicles, I prefer to keep the whole thing anonymous. I'm not in there to make friends. I don't want to see their face, I don't want to hear their voice, I don't even want to see their shoes poking under the wall. The point is -- I'm not interested in getting to know the person next door.

So you can imagine my disgust when I very recently had to go for a crap next to someone who quite obviously plays golf.

It actually made me wretch, thinking of his golfy little frame, squatting there next to me. I mean, in the name of toilet cubicle confidentiality, would it have killed him to have taken his clubs in with him?

#0101. THE WAY THE MAN WHO SAT NEXT TO ME ON THE TRAIN LAST NIGHT ATE HIS PEANUTS.

2008-04-04T10:11:00.007+01:00

Now, either: A) I've become so pathologically crabby that right now the only way I could conceivably make it through an entire day without wishing death on another human would involve me wearing two eyepatches, a pair of earplugs and a bodysuit made of solid lead. Or: B) This man really does have the most aggravating peanut-eating action in the history of humankind.

I'll let you decide...

(Wait for it... wait for it... wait for it... Boom! There it is.)

#0100. BEING STUCK FOR ANOTHER EIGHT YEARS WITH A PASSPORT PHOTO IN WHICH I APPEAR TO BE WEARING A WHITE BOWTIE.

2008-03-30T21:00:00.006+01:00

I'm serious -- if one more passport control official makes a comment along the lines of, "It's so nice to see young people who still get all dressed up for their passport photo," I'm going to punch them in the face.

Not literally, obviously.

#0099. GOING INTO A POUND SHOP AND BEING UNABLE TO MAKE A PURCHASE WITHOUT AT LEAST ONCE ASKING THE QUESTION: "HOW ABOUT THIS -- IS THIS A POUND?"

2008-03-27T10:11:00.009Z

It's like the whole 'you're just as likely to win the lottery with the numbers 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6' thing -- no matter how many times you tell me that everything in the shop is a pound, I never quite believe it.

ME: "Excuse me. These batteries -- are they a pound?"

POUNDCITY EMPLOYEE: "Yes they are."

ME: "Great, thanks. (BEAT) How about the soap? Is that a pound?"

POUNDCITY EMPLOYEE: "Everything's a pound."

ME: "OK, brilliant. (BEAT) Including the shaving foam?"

POUNDCITY EMPLOYEE: "Yes! Including the shaving foam."

ME: "That's what I thought. (BEAT) Quick yes or no: blank DVDs..."

#0098. THE ONE PERSON WHO DIDN'T COME IN FANCY DRESS.

2008-03-24T19:40:00.011Z

I wouldn't mind if that one person was me. In fact, I'd love it if it was me. But it never is. Ever.

No, I'm the person who didn't really want to go in the first place, but gets emotionally blackmailed into it, and is then promised that "everyone else is dressing up," and so reluctantly goes dressed as a giant baby, and then looks even more of a dick than he already did in contrast to the bloke he spends the whole night talking to who's just wearing a really nice pair of jeans and one of those cool tops with the little penguin logo on it.

The fucker.

#0097. MY COMMUTER FRIENDS.

2008-03-21T10:28:00.003Z

Of all my friends I don't like, my commuter friends would have to be my least favourite. The entire basis of my relationship with these people basically boils down to this: we both use trains.

Recent topics of conversation have included:

- Trains: Expensive Or What?

- Trains: Unreliable Or What?

- Trains: Ah god, what was it... bloody... ah... yeah... trains though!

But I can still remember the day my friendship with Commuter Friend #01 reached its lowest ebb; that would be the day he talked me through his keys!

"Back door... front door... stationary cupboard... crook-lock... no, wait..."

I just sat there, staring straight ahead, praying for some kind of terrorist intervention.

#0096. SITTING IN A TRAFFIC JAM ON THE MOTORWAY, WHINING ABOUT HOW, THANKS TO SOME IDIOT, YOU'RE PROBABLY GOING TO MISS "ROSS KEMP ON GANGS"...

2008-03-19T07:48:00.013Z

... then getting to the front of the jam and seeing the mangled wreckage of two family cars, and some people on the hard-shoulder crying, and a child's shoe on the road, and some blood with sand on it, then feeling a bit guilty and having to do the whole 'well that really puts everything into perspective/at least I'm still alive' thing, followed by a long, contemplative pause.

(Even though all you're actually thinking about is how you're probably going to miss "Ross Kemp On Gangs".)

(It was the one on the Yardies.)

#0095. "WOGGING."

2008-03-16T19:06:00.006Z

A car park. You think you've locked your car, but you're not quite sure, so you go back to check. Now, you don't want to break into a full-on jog and yet walking just seems too slow. So you do this...

"Wogging" -- half walking, half jogging.

You'll note the seemingly casual exterior is tinged with the merest whiff of urgency, as though you're being chased by a four-year-old child whose play-fighting you find just a little too rough.

#0094. THE TROJAN SOUP.

2008-03-14T09:15:00.005Z

You're in a Thai restaurant. You make your selection -- Kitsune Udon. It sounds nice. Some kind of noodle-based dish, apparently.

And then it arrives.

And -- somehow, someway -- it's a bowl of fucking soup.

See, nowhere on the menu did it mention the whole 'bowl of soup' thing. And I'll tell you why -- because if they told you it was a bowl of soup, no one would order it.

Hence 'the Trojan Soup' -- you only find out it's soup when it's too late. And obviously then you have to spend the rest of the evening pretending to whoever you're with that you knew it was soup all along.

"Mmm. Soup. Soup as a main course. Cannot be beaten."

Trojan Soup. What a bitch.

#0093. SAMURAI.

2008-03-12T09:10:00.005Z

I fear I would've made a terrible samurai. And I'll tell you why -- to be a samurai warrior means to live by a simple code: death before dishonour.

And the thing is, I'm very much a 'dishonour before death' kind of person. I would honestly disgrace myself -- and my family -- in any number of ways before I'd allow myself to be physically harmed.

"You want me to sell out my own mother? OK, now that's not a problem or anything, but only if promise to stop shouting at me."

And that's why I would've made a terrible samurai.

#0092. MR. T AND THE HYPERINFLATION OF THE 'I PITY THE FOOL' CONCEPT.

2008-03-10T09:09:00.008Z

On behalf of various corporations worldwide, Mr. T is currently pitying the fools who aren't:

* Playing World of Warcraft online.

* Regularly eating Snickers.

* Buying high-end Hitachi Data Systems service-oriented storage solutions.

* Wearing Hanes Double Tough socks.

* Downloading Blue Frog ringtones.

* Using Medeco keys. (I don't even think they sell these over here.)

It all just seems so arbitrary. There was a time when you really had to go out of your way to be pitied as a fool.

Nowadays you just roll out of bed, turn on your non-Hitachi Data Systems service-oriented storage solution, and you're already fucked.

Which just seems unfair.

#0091. PUTTING ON THE ADULT CHANNEL FOR A BIT, "JUST FOR A LAUGH."

2008-03-06T09:14:00.003Z

Because here's what happens when one of your mates puts on some TV-based grot, just for a laugh -- no one actually laughs.

There's maybe a couple of nervous chuckles to begin with, possibly the odd, "Hello! Don't get many of them to the pound."

But then it all goes quiet.

And suddenly, you become aware that you're surrounded by your friends, and they've all got erections. And you then it hits you. This isn't ironic any more: you're just watching pornography with other men.

And that way, dear reader, lies the Circle Jerk.