The Imperfect List

Christmas Rants Number Two - TURKEY

2006-12-08T10:29:00.000Z

I am not a vegetarian. I eat meat every day. I have no problem with vegetarians, but I also have no problem and feel no guilt about eating meat. So my problem with turkey is not a moral issue.

The problem I have with turkey is far far simpler. I don't like it. Not many people seem to. Yet, every year we all go out and buy a Turkey that is twice the size of anything we eat on any other Sunday of the year. Why? Is turkey available the rest of the year? Yes it is. Are chicken, beef, lamb, pork, duck etc available at Christmas? Yes they are. Is turkey some kind of delicacy that is a special 'treat' we can only afford once a year? Hell no.

And what makes matters worse, we do not confine our eating of this oversized dryer version of chicken to lunchtime on Christmas day. Oh no, the bastard thing is still hanging around a good few days later, by which time it has stretched to at least 3 further disappointing meals.

Thinking that there might be an ancient slightly quirky reason why we eat turkey at Christmas I did a quick google search on the subject, and the only reason I came across that was of any interest at all was that it goes back to the days of Henry VIII. (As most things seem to. Did ANYTHING ever happen before that??)
Apparently (and take this story with the biggest mound of salt you can find) everyone always ate goose at Christmas until the royal lard arse himself one day decided he would have turkey. And since then everyone started eating turkey at Christmas.

Seems very unlikely doesn't it? For a start, how would people know? Communication can't have been the best in the 1500s and it can hardly have been headline stuff even on a slow news day.
Also, we are talking about a fella who it is widely accepted rather enjoyed his food. Chances are he had already polished off a few geese, half a cow and several wild boar before he ate the turkey. If everyone copied his eating habits the population would surely have died out.
And lastly, why would people suddenly decide to change their eating habits just because he did? Goose is generally accepted to be (and is) much nicer. So why change to turkey just because the monarch does? If only it was the same today. All that we would need to do is leak to the press that the Queen actually enjoys a nice steak for Christmas dinner and the battle would be won.

And as a delightful bonus Bernard Matthews might be driven out of business. Bootiful!

Christmas Rants Number One - Snow

2006-12-05T10:55:00.000Z

In the first of a series of Christmas related moans (which admittedly would have been better had I started it last Friday. Curse my laziness!) I have started with a long standing annoyance of mine. Yes, that white cold stuff which simpletons of Britain yearn for at this time of year. I am, of course, talking about SNOW.

Its the same every year. As soon as December is upon us we hear people cooing over the possibility that it will be 'a white Christmas'. People genuinely seem to want snow, and if we do get the dubious pleasure people seem to actually get excited by it. In a country obsessed with weather and with moaning about the weather does this not seem a little odd to anyone?

So the question is, why? Why do people like snow? Are these or are these not the same people who complain whenever it rains? Or moan about being cold in the winter? Or too hot in the summer? Newsflash to anyone who hasn't realised. Snow is frozen rain. If you hate rain why like something wetter, colder and which hangs around longer? It truly confuses me.

I have tried asking people but as soon as you mention snow to people you lose them. They leave reality and go into some Dickensian fantasy World where everyone is outside on snow cobbled streets, children are building snow men and street urchins are throwing snowballs at gentlemen in belted coats then running away chased by fat women with rolling pins.
The reality is needless to say very different. Trains don't run properly (when do they?), streets turn to grey sludge, roads are icy and....what's the other one again?....oh yes, ITS FUCKING COLD!

The met office have said there probably won't be snow this Christmas. Let us please just hope they are right and leave the dreaming to Bing. Celebrate the grey Christmas. Its not anyone goes out on Christmas anyway is it?

Rich men playing chess

2006-12-04T15:28:00.000Z

For those of you, like myself, who like a good moan December is among the best months of the year. There is no much material. Mechanical santas, appalling television, shameless commercialism, C-list celebs turning on tired-looking provincial lights. All of which were candidates for my first blog entry in over a month (and to be fair will probably still appear sooner or later) but it is with great sadness that I feel I need to write about one of the great loves of my life - Football.

There are plenty of things that annoy me about football in a general sense, Manchester United for example, but what makes this post more depressing is that it concerns my beloved Liverpool.
This morning reading the sports news I was struck by the headline on the BBC 'Dubai government set for Reds bid'. I have feared this for a while, ever since that time a few years ago when it looked like the Thai Prime Minister was going to buy the club. Thankfully this didn't work out, and for a time Moores and Parry's globetrotting begging missions looked set to end in failure. However, this latest development looks worryingly real.

Now I have nothing against the guy personally but this is the latest in an increasing trend of Premiership clubs being controlled from abroad, by fabulously rich people who have little or no interest in football and are merely seeing it either as a fashion accessory or a business opportunity. If this comes off, which looks likely, we will see a situation where three of the top clubs in England are owned by foreign multi millionnaires and the other plays in a stadium named after a middle Eastern airline.

And with so much money involved where is the scope for the smaller clubs? Where are the chances of a kid kicking the ball around with his mates in the street making it as a pro when the club can go out and spend millions on a ready made superstar who will generate more fast money in shirt sales? It really will just become a case of lots of very rich men from different countries using our national game to get one over on each other.

And of course where on Earth will it all end? Football does not generate huge amounts of money, which is why most clubs run at a loss and the successful ones are the ones who can afford to write off these losses every season. But how long will these guys want to throw their money away before one decides enough is enough and pulls out?

Remember, when we were kids if one kid had something we all wanted one? Yes? Well, what always followed shortly afterwards is one kid would get bored and so would all the others, just as quickly. We threw them in the back of the cupboard and never bothered with them again. How long until Russian, American and Arab cupboards are full of unwanted Premiership football clubs?

Lazy lazy blogging

2006-11-30T11:10:00.000Z

Isn't it just so so fucking annoying when people update blogs on a fairly regulatr basis and then just stop the updates and appear to give up on them?

November is my favourite month of the year. Nothing can annoy me in November.

December on the other hand.........................

Fancy looking stupid?

2006-10-21T11:33:00.000+01:00

Last week I was invited to a fancy dress party. A Halloween fancy dress party. Obviously under normal circumstances this would be no problem. I would have lied and said I was busy, lied and said I was going and not shown up or gone but steadfastly refused to dress up. However, these were not normal circumstances. This involved my girlfriend's mates. And their fellas. No escape. I have no go.

So, I tried the option of not dressing up. Why is it whenever you try this you end up being faced with the weakest argument in existence? Something along the lines of 'well, everyone else will be dressing up so you will be the one who looks stupid'.
No. The fat guy dressed in a ripped t-shirt and painted green will look stupid. The office-joker on his day off, dressed as a woman and telling anyone who will listen that, hilariously, he has come as 'A Mummy' will look stupid. I will not.
Still, even faced with an argument of such weakness I still failed, got called a miserable bastard and was told I have to go and have to dress up.

So basically I have a week to find a Halloween costume. No ideas yet. But this did get me thinking. In terms of fancy dress parties (a crime in themselves) what is the bigger crime? A really shit costume or a really good one? Is it better to make an effort or to make it clear you have made no effort at all?

In my mind it is undoubtedly the latter. Going to these things is bad enough, but making too much of an effort is merely encouraging it to happen, it gives acceptance to something that should never be accepted. And especially with a format as tired as Halloween, where all the girls will just go as so-called 'Sexy Witches', and compete to look good, whereas the men will try to look as hideous as possible. Where's the fun there? Surely better to go along with the idea of fancy dress in the loosest possible sense (very obviously sellotape two bolts to each side of your neck for example, or wrap some Andrex around your normal everyday clothes). Then you have fulfilled all 'obligations' and can enjoy the party for what it ultimately is. A chance to get drunk with a load of people on the cheap on a Saturday night that coincides (loosely) with a Pagan festival that noone really knows much about.

1970s sitcoms

2006-10-20T12:36:00.000+01:00

Not exactly a standard entry but something I was thinking about while I hoovering yesterday. I hate hoovering and its far too dull to write about so it qualifies.

I actually really like 1970s sitcoms. Even as a kid I was fascinated by them, and still watch them on UK Gold (exactly the same episodes of course) to this day. What does this suggest? That every TV programme made between 1980 and the present day simply isn't good enough? That true TV comedy genius died with Leonard Rossiter? Or that they are very very cheap to show and that they will always guarantee the nostalgic viewer?

One thing that is certain is that you don't see sitcoms like that now. Ones that have tried to follow the formula (dinnerladies, The Thin Blue Line) are needless to say a total embarrassment. Why is this? I am honestly at a loss.

All I can do is offer my 10 Golden Rules of 1970s sitcoms:

1. Try to get one of the following on board: Rossiter, Barker, Bryers, O'Sullivan, Jason. This might be tricky these days. Try to look for modern alternatives.
2. 'Accidently' lose a few episodes. This will come in handy in about 25 years when you want to generate some more interest.
3. If an actor leaves/dies between series, never speak of them again.
4. Make an extra long episode, call it a film and guarantee repeats at Christmas for evermore. If you really want to you can even make a sequel (see 'Steptoe and Son Ride Again'. Though don't actually 'see' it obviously)
5. Forget political correctness. Political correctness has ruined comedy.
6. Catchphrases. Thread carefully. Include them, for as many regular characters as possible, but they are only any good if they are not annoying. If used properly they can carry an episode.
7. Running jokes (see catchphrases). For a model of success see the farting chair in The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin.
8. Have a setting and stick to it, no matter how improbable. And don't spend too much money on it. Cardboard walls will do nicely!
9. When going for characters, think extreme. A stupid character here, a fatty there, a regional stereotype or two can only add to your sitcom
10. A jolly theme tune, preferably with words. Everyone knows the theme to Dad's Army and Hi De Hi. Noone knows the theme to Babes in The Wood or Chalk. Or any of the jokes.

Happy sitcom making!

Henry VIII has a lot to answer for - but he'd be the only one answering

2006-10-17T16:26:00.000+01:00

No this is not a post about the rotund wedding cake loving monarch. I am talking about call centres.

I hate call centres. I was offered a job working in a call centre once, when I was 21 and looking for a job after leaving University. The job was working for the Woolwich. In those days I rarely had any contact with call centres but I knew I wanted no part of them. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life at that point but I knew I didn't want to spend my life on the phone and I wanted nothing to do with the general public. I have never for one second regretted my decision. So, I speak of call centres from the 'outside'.

My latest experience of problems with call centres came earlier this year. I was having problems with my power provider (one based in the North of the UK). Basically they kept getting my 'Estimated' readings hopelessly wrong. However, when I called their 0845 number to tell them I would typically spend between 20 and (on one occasion) 90 minutes on hold. As a result I can no longer listen to Greensleeves without feeling physically sick.

So, after continuing this charade of attempted phonecalls daily for 2 weeks I received a letter telling me I had not paid. Well, clearly I have not paid. That is because IT IS WRONG! And apart from anything else I probably paid double the amount I was overcharged in listening to their premium rate jukebox. Is this their intention? I wouldn't like to say but I certainly said this and more to everyone I knew at the time.

Eventually I sent them an email. No response but at least the auto reply that came back didn't have a Greensleeves media file attached. 10 days later I sent another email. By this time remember I was complaining about the non-response to the email, the call centre and, by this time, the relatively unimportant matter of the wrong bill! After a while I recieved a phonecall saying that they would adjust the bill and give me £20 for my inconvenience. I suspect I have done badly out of this deal but I felt better. They had admitted that their call centre is terrible. A small victory but a victory nonetheless!

The funny thing is, given the nature of reports about call centres in recent times, is that this call centre is based in the UK, rather than India. If this is the standard of call centres based here then is there any wonder that the Indian alternative is more attractive (regardless of the obvious financial benefit to companies). Unfortunately I cannot comment on the competence of staff. You have to get through to them to do that.

Criminal Records

2006-10-16T11:50:00.000+01:00

Last night I found myself (much to my surprise) watching the 100 Greatest Albums on Channel 4. I was surprised at this partly because it was repeat and I remember being furious watching it when it was on originally, but also because as a rule I hate programmes like this.

I don't mind so much the likes of favourite TV moments (though these are now becomming tiresome. You can only watch Del Boy fall through the bar or Basil Fawlty beating his car with a stick so many times) but its the music ones that get me riled. There seems to be so many of them, all voted for by the public, and they always end with any viewer with an ounce of intelligence despairing of said public.

They never fail to disappoint. Anything to do with singles or videos will have Bohemian bloody Rhapsody at number one, Angels by Robbie Williams top 5 and probably something reasonably good at about number 24, just so everyone can moan to their mates about how its a 'travesty that X was above Y' etc. The album ones are equally poor and generally end (as with this one yesterday) with the dull Radiodead topping the poll. Yawn

Anyway, after I eventually switched off the TV in disgust and went to bed it got me thinking about these shows, and what they are about. Basically, Channel 4 ask the public what they think, then tell us what we think. They spread it out over about 3 to 4 hours and pad it out by getting the likes of Jimmy Carr, Phill Jupitus and Justin Lee Collins to provide 'witty' comments. So simple, its possibly verging on genius. Unlike Radiodead, who wouldn't know genius if they were trapped in a lift with Einstein, Hawking and Mozart.

I aint no quitter!

2006-10-12T10:23:00.000+01:00

I am a smoker. Since the age of around 15/16 I have smoked. Thats a commitment of over 10 years. Pretty impressive I am sure you will agree. I have been smoking longer than I have been in any job, any educational establishment or been with any woman.

Being an adult I realise the dangers of smoking. I hear about them on the news, I read in the papers, I read about them on fag packets themselves and, irritatingly, I hear about them from people. Over and over again. As if I have never heard it before.

Why do people feel the need to tell me about my health? I'm not bothering them. I don't walk up to a fatty in the street and tell them about the dangers of eating too much do I? So why is it okay for non-smokers (particularly the worst offenders of them all - the ex-smoker!) to tell me about the health risks of smoking as if I have never heard it before?!

A few points if I may.
First, yes smoking obviously isn't good for you. We know.
Second, it isn't illegal. Smoking weed is, yet somehow its okay to talk about legalising this, even though its even LESS good for you and makes anyone who smokes it extremely tedious
Third, someone please explain to me how smoking makes people infertile (as the warnings claim). Birth rates are down on what they were in, say, 1950, when everyone smoked. It clearly didn't make them infertile did it?
Fourth, the country cannot afford for smokers to give up. The tax we pay is valuable for Britain.
People of London, I call on you to Smoke and Smoke For Britain! Hurrah!!

Would you wear a tuxedo to do the gardening?

2006-10-11T17:05:00.000+01:00

Call me old fashioned but certain clothes are used for certain purposes. You wouldn't wear the same in bed that you would wear to the theatre for example. Well you might, but omly if you were insane. However, I can't put down to insanity why on Earth people haven't grasped the fact that sportswear isn't for playing sport.

Anyone who ever goes to the shops will know what I mean. Fat men in Man United, Arsenal, Chelsea and (the worst) England tops walking around the shops with their families. Obviously they should be ashamed of themselves but women, why on Earth do you allow this?

Don't get me wrong. I love football more than pretty much anything else. Which is why I play football. In my football kit. I go to games. In my football shirt. These are acceptable in my eyes. I can even deal with people going to the pub to watch their team in their football shirt. What I can't stand is people wearing a football shirt as an alternative piece of clothing. Do they not understand, they look rubbish!! These shirts look good on football players, they look appropriate on football fans at games. They look shit on 20 stone men in supermarkets!!

Last season I remember walking through the streets in the town where I live on a Sunday afternoon. All the pubs were full of people watching Chelsea vs Man United. A massive game. I, hating both teams equally, was avoiding it. I was surprised though that the two fatties wearing Chelsea tops sitting in am otherwise deserted McDonalds were doing the same thing.
Well, surprised but, in a way that also seemed appropriate.

The Scrapyard man, the Scrapyard!

2006-10-11T16:35:00.000+01:00

Like most people in England I drive a car. Its not a big car or a flashy car, but is a reasonable Japanese blue affair thats gets me around the place and costs me too much (giving me much welcomed opportunities to moan and complain and bleat at various times of the year). Its a good arrangement and I am happy with it. When my car gets old, and stops working I will scrap it. I, and let me make this absolutely clear, have no emotional attachment to my car.

Tragically though, some people do. Some background here. About 4 or 5 months ago, I was driving quite slowly in the middle lane of the M1 coming back into London. It may or may not have been somewhere around Luton, not sure. Could have been further out. One stretch of the M1 looks much the same as another.

Anyway, in the left hand lane appeared a mark1 Cortina. The driver was a middle aged man in a baseball cap. The cap was turned the wrong way. The signs were not good. On the back windscreen was written the legend 'RATMAN: KILLING IS MY BUSINESS AND BUSINESS IS GOOD'. Now, this may seem like I jumped to an unnacceptable conclusion about this man but I took an instant dislike to him. When I was 17, one of my best mates, in his Ford Escort (with blacked out windows) had BASS: THE FINAL FRONTIER on his back windscreen. Obviously this was pathetic, as he would now admit, but if it was pathetic for a 17 year old boy racer to do this, what does that make Ratman? A man in his 40s? Driving an ancient car?

Possibly I am being harsh, and if anyone knows Ratman and he is a nice fella I really do apologise, but its the whole doing up the old car thing I don't get. Things get old. You throw them away. Why are some people so obsessed with doing things up? Let them go, PLEASE!

Is it so bad being fat?

2006-10-10T15:42:00.000+01:00

The gym. When was it that everyone started going to the gym?

I'm 10-15 years ago you never heard so much about gyms. Now everyone goes. Actually, sorry, I have inadvertently just typed the biggest lie on the internet. Noone fucking goes to the gym. Everyone is a member of a gym. In fact I have just come out of a very unpleasant period of being a member of two gyms at the same time. But thats another story.

Back to the point. The reason for this state of affairs can be explained by one word - GUILT!
Gyms guilt you into joining. If you observe their promotional activities throughout the year you will see what I mean. At the beginning of summer, its all 'get in shape for summer', 'wanna look good on the beach?' and 'hey you fat-fucker. You wanna be laughed at'. Or something. Gyms cut their prices for about a week to lure you in, drop their joining fees (JOINING FEE? ON TOP OF THE 70 QUID A MONTH!) and then when you are there you are trapped.

They then try again at New Year. Playing on ill-advised New Year Resolutions and the knowledge that eveyone has done nothing but eat for the past month. So, the gym 'special' offers come out again. Shameless.

The rest of the year is covered by people starting new jobs and people getting dumped by their girlfriends (the reason I first joined a gym. A different one to the one that the girl who dumped me joined of course)

So, you've joined. Then what? I'll tell you. You go for about a month. An outrageously attractive female (if you are male) or man (if you are a girl) puts you on a 'programme' in the gym, then you stop. The visits become less and less frequent until eventually they grind to a complete halt, and the only evidence of your membership is a huge direct debit on your bank statement.

Now, I have no problem with the gyms themselves. Playing on human stupidity is no crime. Its business. My problem is the curious place gyms have earned themselves in society.
We are told pretty much every week or so that Britain is fatter than ever. Yet everyone is a member of a gym. 15 years ago we were never told this, and only fitness fanatics went to gyms.
Its an absurd paradox. You spend lots of money NOT to go to the gym and run on a conveyor belt, and because in your mind you DO go to the gym, you think its okay to eat what you want (which of course IT IS - sorry Mr Oliver) and you don't think its worth going out and running on grass or the pavement, or playing football. Which is of course free, and is what we did before gyms were built.

May as well be made of rope

2006-10-07T14:09:00.000+01:00

Ties. I fucking hate ties. What is the point? Seriously! This was what I was thinking to myself as I was standing on the train all the way to work yesterday morning. I tried to do some research on the origins of ties, hoping that there might be some interesting quirk in there somewhere. But even that was boring beyond all belief, so I gave up.

My hatred of ties has gone back to schooldays, when we were forced to wear ties. Yes, even at Primary School. 5 and 6 year old children forced to wear ties. How sick is that? Though obviously it was fun taking the piss off the thick kids who had those ones with elastic (rather, of course than the far more sophisticated alternative of your mum tying it for you every morning!).

From the age of 18 I vowed not to wear a tie ever again, and aside from job interviews and the odd wedding or funeral I have stuck to this more often than not. I have steadfastly refused to wear a tie to work. It works out fine for me, but that doesn't stop me hating ties on others, and other tie-wearers!

Going back to that journey to work. You see a lot of people on the way to work, and lots of them wear ties. I don't have a problem with this of course. They might be in jobs where they have to (which is the fault of the company's small-mindedness and general pathetic views that people get more respect when wearing ties). The people I have a problem with are the following.
1. People with novelty ties
2. People who wear their ties hanging round their necks, undone.

The first of these are obviously wankers. Usually very dull men aspiring to be seen as fun. Wanting to be the 'office joker'. These people aren't worth talking about really so I'll leave it there.

The second lot are worse. These are usually young people working in banks. They have to wear a tie but at the same time don't want to be seen as corporate whores. They refuse to stand up to their employer by admitting that they hate wearing ties, but they want to appear cool by walking to work not wearing the tie. If you see these people, just think of a big city office block and then an alleyway a few hundred yards away full of young men desperately putting on ties before their boss notices.

Nothing super about it

2006-09-25T00:28:00.000+01:00

I hate Supermarkets. I despise them. Unfortunately, life being life, and life being cruel and generally vile, the things you hate are usually the things that you pretty much cn't avoid coming into contact with.

I had the misfortune of going to the supermarket yesterday morning. Admittedly I was hungover, had not slept properly and was woken up by the sound of a hoover so I was in a poor frame of mind anyway but at the same time I was starving. So, at my girlfriend's behest, we went to ASDA. This is normally the lowest of any supermarket chain as far as I am concerned but I was in no position to argue really.

After negotiating the Sunday drivers and the 'roadworks' (or rather abandoned tents and holes in the road) we got there. Now, supermarket car parks are always horrific. Even at midnight they are awful (what is worse? No choice or too much?) but on a Sunday they reach a new level of awfulness. But having fought the cars, random walking people, trollies left in spaces and fat families pushing over-full trollies we found a space. So far so good. Until we got inside.

This is what I hate about ASDA. Call me some kind of stubborn old traditionalist if you like but supermarkets sell food and household products. Clothes shops sell clothes. Shoe shops sell shoes. So why do the suits (George I assume) at ASDA think its such a good plan to sell all of these, substandardly at that, in their foul cavernous monstrosities of stores?? And why do women bloody love this?? After wandering about through the racks of horrible clothes, shoes on pegs (!!) and Alba electrical equipment I had had enough before we had even reached the fruit and veg section.

Before I go further I don't generally consider myself to be a snob, but I challenge anyone to refrain from anything that may be considered snobbish behaviour after visiting ASDA. Every fat mother berating her children, every twenty-something woman with a ponytail, sovereign rings and tracksuit bottoms and every man who sees nothing wrong with going out in public wearing a wife-beater vest and big tattoos on their fat arms just makes me think more and more that society is slipping away from me.

As the trip went on, things just went from bad to worse. Rudeness, awfulness, strange smells at every turn. "Oh, but its cheap", my girlfriend tells me. Yes, its cheap for a reason. Because it tastes nasty! And look what you have to endure to get the 'benefit'?

When the horror trip was finally complete I left. Threw the bags in the car, got the pound back for the trolley (has anyone ever considered just taking the trolley? A quid for a trolley sounds like a decent deal to me!), braved the Sunday drivers and roadworks again, got in, locked the door and thanked the lord that it would be another week before having to go to a supermarket again.

The Day of the Bored

2006-09-19T17:36:00.000+01:00

Sundays. A day of rest. So what is the 21st century person supposed to do whilst they rest?
Newspapers? Okay, but as far as I know these are around the rest of the week, as well as 24 hour news channels and the internet, admittedly not with comment from columnists as insightful as, er, Richard Madeley. Besides, if you house was anything like my house growing up the Sunday papers would become pretty much unreadable after about midday with various sections littered around the house, pages screwed up lost and the only section that anyone can find by mid afternoon being Home and Garden. Which is still in the plastic wrapper with the free Jazz CD.

So, papers are a no-no. How about Sunday lunch? Otherwise known in 21st century Britain as the only time you have to sit at the table. Yes, it tastes nice but at what cost? Again we are preached at all week about the importance of keeping fit and losing weight, yet we are then encouraged to round off the week by spending a whole day eating fatty food and sitting about. Unless you are the poor bugger who has to spend the afternoon washing up that is.

Not that you are missing much. I think one of my earliest hates was Sunday television and its still right up there. From Frost ("so, Prime Minister, what exactly did you have for breakfast this morning?") to the Eastenders omnibus to the ever present appalling (possibly Bond) film to the trio of death - Antiques Roadshow, Songs of Praise and Last of The Summer Wine. The last of which deserves an entry all to itself really.

I hate Sundays. And to think I never even needed to touch on the fact that the only places that are open are twice as busy because they are only open half the time. Well I almost managed it.

CM

Why don't they give out fivers?

2006-09-19T16:56:00.000+01:00

What better place to start? At the root of all evil. Not money of course, stupidity.
My hatred of ATM machines is manifested in many ways, and I will attempt to spell them out here.

1. The machines themselves. As alluded to in the title of this post, it seems to me that all cash machines in the country are set up with the intention of only dispensing the most awkward note dominations that they can. Its not just that no machines in the country ever give out fivers anymore (easily the best note around), but is there anything more annoying than a scenario like this? You have no cash on you, you want to buy a newspaper, and the only cash machine you can get to will only give out twenties! So, you either have to try to buy a paper with a 20 (bearing in mind that even the Sunday papers are only about a quid), and risk the wrath of the shopkeeper or buy something else. SO THE CASH MACHINE HAS COST YOU MONEY.

2. Users. This applies to a great number of urban irritations, and is a useful theory to stick with through life. Stupid people should not be allowed out of the house.
Anyone who has ever waited behind someone at a cash machine will know what I mean. Card goes in (after a few attempts to put it in the wrong way), stupid person dithers a bit over the PIN, stupid person asks for a mini statement, stupid person analyses mini statement for a few minutes (oblivious to the ever-expanding queue of people behind), stupid person retrieves card, dithers over getting it back into purse/wallet then.....pulls out another card and starts over.

3. This machine is currently not dispensing cash. Well fucking fix it then! This only panders to the stupid people mentioned above who think that these machines are multi purpose. They are not. They are there to dispense cash! If they are not dispensing cash they may as well be removed. Now, there's an idea!

Unfortunately, although I hate ATMs we as society have no choice but to use them. Yes, we can queue up in the bank and get cash over the counter but, in doing so, you have to face the inevitable questions about whether you want a loan, mortgage, credit card, new account. And people wonder why Britain is in debt! Look no further than the high street banks' 'Withdraw a fiver and get a free 30 grand loan' policy sherlock!

The Imperfect List

2006-09-19T16:42:00.000+01:00

At a young age. Say about 12 or 13. It occurred to me that I am part of that vast majority of British people. Up until that point, as is ingrained into the psyche of all middle class English children, I was happy in the assumption that the World is a fairly reasonable place. Don't get me wrong, I was never under the impression that everything is perfect (I may have been naive but I was never an idiot). I knew some things were good, just as I knew some things were annoying, but it was on the verge of my teenage years that I realised there was more to it than that. I realised that I am a miserable bastard.

I wasn't, never have been and never will be ashamed of this. History is littered with miserable bastards, every pub in the country is in business because of the amount of disgruntled miserable fuckers in there every single night discussing the things that annoy them and the only reason that sport and television remains so popular is so that people can complain about it!

However, the one downside of being a miserable moaner is that eventually people are going to get bored and not want to listen to what you find annoying. Therefore, I have decided to list them all on here. If you don't want to read them, don't, but if you want to comment or add any of your own irritations please do.

Thanks

CM