Confident that I have qualified myself to moan, I shall begin my snivelling and belly-aching, emphasising the four things that most discombobulate me and abrade my sense of good cheer.
Foodies
Foodies are that curious group of people who live to eat. They simply adore adorning their food with fancy names, derived from the French language, which, incidentally, they usually have no other knowledge of. They hold "dinner parties", simply so that they might share the experience of food with like-minded individuals, and, of course, receive praise for their 'simply delightful' cooked produce.
My disapprobation of them perhaps wouldn't be quite so fierce, if they were to keep their passion to themselves. Alas, they don't. They can't help but drag others into their fantasy world, with their banal questions of "Oh, what do you think of the Moelleux? Isn't it simply divine?". Of course, they expect you to be as passionate in your response as they are in their questioning. They want you to retort with a collage of colourful expressions that befit their pretentious outlook on food. My advice? Say "it's OK" and move along to someone who has a proper hobby.
Dog Mummies
Hold me back! Hold me back! There is no doubt that you will have seen these people, for they exist in the millions. They are, it must be stated, usually women, and again, it must be said, often without children. These are the people who own dogs just so they can have a "child". Indeed, they refer to their dogs as their "babies".
They speak to them, they buy them game consoles, they even have a room dedicated to their 'babies'! Oh yes, they really do. They refuse to accept that their dog is capable of walking, and instead carry it around everywhere they go, clutching it to their breast; presumably to suckle.
Again, this would be fine if it were not for the fact that it causes a great many behavioural issues for the dog, which it then gets punished for at a later date. If you treat your dog like a spoiled child, that is essentially what you end up with. As the saying goes: you always end up with the dog you wanted.
It's not just sad and pathetic, it's cruel!
Shopping
Let me clean the toilet with my tongue, let me walk hot coals, let me chew on broken glass. Anything that will save me from the nightmare that is shopping. Shopping should come with a health warning. It's singularly the most stressful thing a man could ever attempt.
You see, us men, we're a peculiar lot. We're not generally that keen on standing right in the middle of the aisles, grouped around our barricade trolleys, discussing how much the price of tampons has increased over the past few weeks, and what a cheek it is upping the price on essential items. Nor are we that keen on standing patiently behind people, as they spend twenty minutes reading labels and blocking us from getting the item that we want.
However, all of the above becomes all the more painful when you add old people into the mix. The moment I smell an old person, well, that peculiar urine stench they carry about with them, I know that I'm going t have to start walking at one pace for each ten minutes that passes. The size of their coat alone is enough to hinder you, as you can't see past it!
Please, for the love of God, let's dispense with shopping. No good can ever come of it.
Reality Television
There have been moments that I feel decidedly cheated by modern television. If I look out of my living-room window, I see normal people going about their business. Indeed, as I write, a woman, who lives two doors down, is reversing her car, as she usually does around this time each day. It's routine, and not in the least bit interesting. And that, dear reader, is the point, it's not bloody interesting!
I have no connection whatsoever with that woman who lives near me. Given that, I sure as hell have no connection with some egocentric idiot, fresh out of university, who feels that getting his knob out for television is the way for him to get ahead in life. But each and every day we are forced to pay to watch this arid and banal nonsense. Big Brother is the most prolific crook in this field. Whenever I have happened upon it, it has shown people laying down, asleep in their beds. How bloody catatonic do you have to be in order to feel entertained by such tripe? However, I'm told that I just catch it at the wrong time. Sometimes, I might even get to see them wandering around the kitchen - in their slippers! Ooooooh.
The television makers even want us to care about the people on it. Who do I want to vote out this week? All of the them would suit me just fine!
So there we have it. I feel cleansed. In fact, I feel more British now than I did when I started. Rule Britannia!
MazY
2 Comments
Hey you know AdGuy always gets the last word! ;)