This page is here so I can rant and rave at anything at all that gets on my tits about life. It'll probably fill up with really petty little things, because really petty little things tend to piss me off more than whopping great huge things. This is probably because I've not got the attention span to get annoyed at whopping great huge things. Getting annoyed at something like the rape of planet Earth would take a commitment I'm not prepared to give. To get justifiably irate you'd have to back up your anger with worthwhile activities and go out and raise funds for Greenpeace, or get in a dinghy and smear radioactive toxic sludge on your face, whereas getting annoyed at some twat paying for four quids worth of shopping with a cheque takes ten minutes, and leaves your evenings free.

Things that wind me up...

15. Orange women (usually assistants in a make-up department). (Sunday June 10th 2000)
What colour are you? That particular shade of orange exists nowhere in nature! You'd look more natural if you'd boiled your head in tea, and then varnished it in gravy browning. Here's an idea - why not save some of the make-up to sell to the customers rather than trowelling it all on to your stupid grinning face with a brickies shovel?


14. Wrestling. (Sunday June 10th 2000)
Absolutely fucking ludicrous. Here's a quick reality check. IT'S NOT REAL! THEY'RE FAKING IT! THEY'RE JUST A BUNCH OF CIRCUS FREAKS PUMPED UP TO THE EYEBALLS ON STEROIDS, CAKED IN MAKE-UP, PERFORMING CAREFULLY CHOREOGRAPHED (AND YET OBVIOUSLY HOPELESSLY INEFFECTIVE IN A PROPER FIGHT) MOVES, BECAUSE THEY HAVEN'T THE TALENT TO DO A PROPER SPORT. (It most certainly isn't a sport by the way - even synchronised swimming has more of a claim to that - and that's exceptionally piss-poor!)


13. Steps, S Club 7, Backstreet Boys and countless other similarly talentless twats. (Sunday June 10th 2000)
Oh christ - there isn't the time to do this justice. See No.7 below.


12. Brown Sauce. (Sunday June 10th 2000)
Satans own condiment. This stuff tastes filthy! Whoever invented this culinary "delight" must have decided that throwing every last ingredient in their kitchen at a saucepan and then incinerating the end result was a good idea. However, I tend to think that if the only distinguishing feature of a foodstuff is it's colour then you're probably missing the point somewhere.


11. Custard pies. (Sunday July 19th 1998)
Custard pies (the thrown variety - I don't know if anyone actually makes an edible version, but I thought I'd better elaborate) are a cracking example of exactly what is wrong with the world today. Surely a custard pie should be full of custard - thick, gloopy, sticky, messy and therefore FUN? What do we get? Shaving foam. Clean, convenient, cheap and no fun. Somebody here has missed the point - you're meant to fling something that your opponent REALLY doesn't want to get hit by - that's where the fun is (ask the military). To illustrate:- viscous dairy-based sauce = good weapon, hygienic male grooming product = bad weapon. It's fairly straightforward. However shaving foam wins every time because it's a fraction of the effort, a fraction of the cost and a fraction of the inconvenience. It's also a fraction of the fun, but that doesn't seem to matter that much.


10. MacDonalds "Restaurants". (Sunday April 26th 1998)
This isn't about MacDonalds being an all-consuming global megacorporation whose sinister clown (see below) mascot is leading the armies of darkness against all that is good in this world - that's much too big a subject to tackle here. What pisses me off is how they've got the cheek to call their shoddy little "establishments" restaurants. Here's a quick restaurant checklist. Good food. Fine wine. Waiters. Atmosphere. Service. CUTLERY. Getting a greasy slab of mechanically reclaimed meat in a soggy bun flung at you by a twelve year old with terminal acne whilst you sit in the car park doesn't quite fit the bill really, does it?


9. Clowns. (Sunday April 26th 1998)
Sinister sons-of-bitches each and every one of them. How can what you do be perceived as anything other than creepy and malevolent, you twisted bunch of psychotic freaks?


8. Ice cream van music. (Sunday April 19th 1998)
I don't get it. Somebody somewhere must have decided one day that the best music to attract potential customers to an ice-cream van is the sort played at 300 decibels by an orchestra of tone-deaf chimps with lousy hand-eye coordination and very poor quality xylophones. AND EVERYBODY AGREED! How did that happen? So now, every Saturday and Sunday morning between the months of February and December I get woken by the most criminally inept rendition of "If you do down to the woods today" ever to assault an eardrum.


7. Peter Andre. (Thursday February 12th 1998)
STOP IT YOU TEDIOUS LITTLE WANKER - IT'S GONE WELL BEYOND A JOKE.


6. Short people with umbrellas. (Thursday February 12th 1998)
Bastards the lot of 'em. There should be a minimum height restriction on umbrellas so that people of normal stature don't get repeatedly stabbed in the face by hordes of hydrophobic midgets with steel-barbed death brollies.


5. How Americans pronounce the word "Aluminium". (Sunday November 2nd 1997)
Pay close attention...
AL-U-MIN-I-UM.
Got that?


4. Useless bin liners. (Sunday November 2nd 1997)
The inventor of these was probably extremely proud that they'd managed to craft a plastic bin liner out of seventeen molecules of plastic stretched really fucking thin. You can practically hear the electron bonds straining. The fact that the bloody things rip the instant you put anything sharper than marshmallow in them doesn't seem to have been considered too important. I'm guessing here, but I reckon the dictionary definition of "BAG" would probably mention the word "CONTAINER" in it somewhere, so surely it's not too much to expect these bastards to hold something a little denser than hydrogen, is it?


3. Homogeneous, squeakyclean web pages. (Tuesday October 14th 1997)
This is the whole reason this page looks like it does. Isn't everybody else sick to death of seeing vast numbers of practically identical looking sites, all neat and tidy, and polished until there's not an ounce of individuality or originality left? If you're not then you bloody well should be. So there!


2. Carrier bag handles. (Sunday September 21st 1997)
You know the ones I mean - initially substantial looking plastic handles which, the moment you leave the shop, suddenly fuse into a single strand of industrial-quality cheesewire. Karmic forces probably dictate that the git who invented these is due a slap of epic proportions anytime now.


1. Weekend Bastards. (Sunday August3rd 1997)
What sort of twat first decided that Sunday was a good day to mow the lawn?
Or start a bonfire the size of Kent?