I'm a miserable fucker
so this list might get a bit long...

Let's see. To begin with, I'd have to say people.
Just people in general. Other people seem to think some people are nice, but I have come to realize you're all a shower of bastards.

The wii - what the fuck? The games are shit, the graphics are shit, and the controller is about as accurate as me trying to take a piss after 10 pints.

Nightclubs - what a load of shit. Paying twice the going rate for watered down drinks, to stand in a room that stinks of BO and bad aftershave, watching dirty skanks and desperate wankers trying to cop off with one another, all the while deafened by fucking god-awful music.

Talent shows - x factor, pop idol, the lot fo them. They're all fucking awful. Dross designed deliberately to appeal to the lowest of the low, to the chavviest of the chavs.

Anything labelled as reality tv. If I have to explain why, then you're probably one of the vacuous, cretinous fucktards that applies to be on one of them.

Gyms - yay let's pay £30 a month to exercise alongside sweaty, flabby, arseholes that have the tv remote in one hand and a bigmac in the other. Or the opposite, the overly-toned, preening, self-righteous cunt that looks down on everyone and can't go 5 seconds without checking himself out in the mirror.

Big Boar Exhausts - what the fuck? How fucking retarded do you have to be to think they sound good? Jesus christ, if my car made a sound like that I'd be straight down the mechanic. And it's always fucking shit cars, like Novas. What sort of spacktard spends more making a car into a dickmobile, than the car itself cost?

Jordan. What gives? How can any man think those stretched, disfigured blimps look sexy? And her face is always so deep in warpaint that she might as well just chop her block off and put a porcelain doll's head in it's place.

The Twilight books - what the fuck? They're fucking atrocious. They are a blight on literature itself. Even the sort of paperback romantic dross you find in airports is better written. How fucking drunk was her editor when he ok'd that drivel? I'm not a harry potter fan, but at least JK can write english past a 5th grade level. This meyers bint somehow stumbled onto a way of making a fortune by writing retarded english for very lonely schoolgirls. Lucky bitch.

Okay, I think I'll stop before my blood pressure causes my eyeballs to pop out. In short: hate world, revenge soon, show everybody. Everybody!
( Damocles wants no part of your debauchery, Thu 15 Oct 2009, 17:42, 1 reply)

Jo Brand
A "woman" who's made a career out of saying she's a) fat b) eats cake c) hates men. Vile, unfunny and obnoxioius. And yes I know she used to be a nurse; so what?
(kitescreech still here, Thu 15 Oct 2009, 17:41, 2 replies)

In a bid to avoid repeating what other people have put
Why do people bang on about the Bugatti Veyron? It's ugly, tasteless, brash, gawdy and overhyped.

Give me a McLaren F1 anyday. A truly beautiful car which oozes class.

Googles for images to drool over
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Thu 15 Oct 2009, 17:40, 5 replies)

Michael Mcintyre
I don't find him funny. Who does?
From what i can gather his entire act is such:
"My gosh, It isn't like this in North London"

Please feel free to try and prove me wrong
(Sawdustman now with added giro. again, Thu 15 Oct 2009, 17:40, 1 reply)

Add some toast.
As a kid I hated butter. It tasted too salty, too creamy. It was vile yellow stuff that just seemed to make bread and jam taste worse. The only spread I liked was "Gold", which doesn't try to taste of anything. Then somewhere along the line, probably when I was forced to use the stuff, I began to like it. And the floodgates decided they were going to bugger off and retire from this point.

I didn't get eggs. Eggs are ew, they smell of farts, have a horrid sloppy texture or look like grains of polystyrene on the plate. I then ended up having some powdered eggs at some point, and liked them. And gradually moved onto omelettes, and now a good comfort food staple is a scrambled egg on some toasted white bread, with plenty of butter.

I didn't get marmite. Black vile ooze derived from the hate of many angry northern mens' lungs. Again, adjusting the butter/marmite ratio on some *good* toast made all the difference.

And until recently, I didn't get seafood. The stuff *smells* off when you go near it. How on earth does that work? Then I was introduced to scallops... with butter. And they were lovely and didn't taste off at all. Then I went to a gorgeous seafood restaurant in the US and I'm even eating raw tuna with my scallops. Still can't eat crappy crab cakes though.

I didn't get exercise until I spent several weeks cycling to and from work and getting a massive endorphin rush as I was locking the bike away outside my flat. I finally got the last "bit" of it when I managed to climb a mountain recently, twice in the same week! No butter here unfortunately.

I didn't get metal music. I got stuck into it when I dated someone in a metal band and I saw the fun of jumping about like a lunatic, and the complexity of some of the songs. Daughters stays with me to this day.

I didn't get dance music. I got stuck into it when I realised it wasn't *all* "Dave Pearce Dance Anthems", and that the majority of people who like dance music aren't actually twats.

There's still tonnes of stuff I don't get. I look forward to conquering them one day. Most of them seem to be better with butter added on top, or with some toast at the end of it.
(mmmm curry doesn't really understand this sig lark, Thu 15 Oct 2009, 17:39, 5 replies)

Peapeapearoast from the Captain
R and frickin B

One pretty, underdressed, nasally whining bint with a passable voice, terminally unable to use one pure note when she can ram forty-seven in the same space. Then we get to the male part. What the holy jamstranglingbastardfuck is HIS raison d'etre? Monotonally slurring through some "gangsta" bollocks while swaying, grabbing his crotch and waving his arm like a shit-flinging simian.


And don't get me started on "Fiddy cent". Just don't.
(Captain Placid 24/7 ball gags, brownie mix and clown porn, Thu 15 Oct 2009, 17:32, Reply)

My wife has a mini disc
So what you might ask. She's not the most technologimacal girl in the world, but she gets on ok with cd's and mp3's.
Me I'm a vinyl type chap and reel to reel malarkeys turn me right on. But when it comes to operating these old school button thingys she gives up. Most days when I ask her to put on some old school stuff she just says "I just don't understand the 8-tracks hun."

*Pun-pop*
( Blind Meach Cautiously optimistic, Thu 15 Oct 2009, 17:30, 1 reply)

Sorry but.....like yeah, whatever
Considering poor grammar and lazy linguistics to be acceptable. It is not. Particular pet hates that seem to be considered normal:

Disrespectin' - For god's sake this is just not right, although strictly speaking disrespect is a verb it is just another Americanism we don't need. How about showing a lack of respect instead.

Like - for use when something is similar to something else not when you are dealing with defined quantities i.e "It was like, last week", I think not!

Oh yes, and whilst we are dealing with America....bloody R&B (apologies to those that have already mentioned this god awful blight upon the nation). If I want to hear this pap I can get it via the wonders of internet radio and listen to a US station. I don't want to contribute through either the licence fee or consumer spending to its continued infecting of the airwaves over here. It is talentless crud that merely follows the form of each singer/artist announcing their participation at the beginning of the track followed by stolen sample of a previously loved track with some female musical gymnastics during which men are painted as mysogynistic shits not worthy of female companionship unless we bow down and bend to their every whim interrupted only by the obligatory rap section whereby we are reminded that men are actually a bunch of materialistic twats chasing after cheap tarts willing to wear bikinis during the middle of the night in the street or 'da club' before we drink some expensive spirits in he back of our pimped out rides. I can live with formulaic if the formula is sound to start with.
( number5 has been fighting tramps and losing., Thu 15 Oct 2009, 17:29, 1 reply)

Stuffing your face with cheese after already having eaten a nice meal
now I'm not the biggest cheese fan anyway, I've gradually encouraged myself to eat it (I love it when melted particularly. Can't eat the stinky stuff though), but I've noticed that people who do really like cheese tend to go mental when presented with a cheese board after a meal and will shovel whole fucking wheels of the stuff down their throats sat on top of a biscuit.

Frankly it goes beyond not being able to understand the attraction to being outright disgusted by it.

I see it as akin to stuffing lumps of butter into your gaping maw, despite already being nicely full of a pleasant variety of tasty food that was the meal just eaten.
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Thu 15 Oct 2009, 17:29, 8 replies)

At college a few years ago,
we did a physics experiment and we were measuring beta-radiation. I couldn't see the (weak nuclear) attraction
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Thu 15 Oct 2009, 17:28, Reply)

The Vicar of Dibley - fucking tripe
in fact, I would rather be doing the latter than watching the former.

Gavin and Stacey is another one. These are comedy shows for people without brains I'm sure. After my brother, his gf, and various other people told me how good it was I sat down and watched an episode. My mouth didn't come close to a smile, let alone actually laughing.
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Thu 15 Oct 2009, 17:26, 3 replies)

kickstandrich
But then I'm a bloke.
(Vice Admiral Sir Charles Cockbrush KCB MBE DSO, who is finding it increasingly difficult to log into b3ta.com wants to duck your aunt and kick your puppy, Thu 15 Oct 2009, 17:26, 1 reply)

Magnets.
They're just horseshoes painted red.
Why do bits of metal get so excited?
( Dr Preference AjcuiVd289, Thu 15 Oct 2009, 17:24, Reply)

The
opposite.

Everyone seems to hate that Peter Andre chap - and yet, for some reason he seems about the only Australian I would enjoy having a beer with.

Maybe, I too am one of those that leaves people cold.
(dchurch bah, Thu 15 Oct 2009, 17:24, 4 replies)

cunts
just cunts. All of them.
( MontyyouterribleCUNT I gave Jeremy Kyle cancer, Thu 15 Oct 2009, 17:22, 2 replies)

Facebook* 'Friends' & Requests
What's the attraction of adding someone as a friend you've never met and are never likely to meet? I really don't care if you've got 350+ friends, it doesn't mean you're great. I bet you don't know how many have been caught interfering with animals/kids/fruit, do you? and try borrowing money off the buggers, see how friendly they are then.

...and then there's those bloody annoying emails: 'someone you know has taken the likeness quiz', 'mafia wars request', 'You've been bitten by a vampire'...wtf?

*other social networking sites are available
(RTFM May your god go with you, Thu 15 Oct 2009, 17:21, Reply)

Bumsexuals
I really cannot fathom why a man would want to have sex with another man? I want my sexual thrills to be soft and lovely, with moar boobehs. Not some hairy arsed queer wanting to stick his cock in my gob.

Everyone to their own and all that, i'm not saying there is anything wrong with wanting to swallow spunk, and have my cock covered in shit and blood, personally i just cannot understand the attraction.
(Cancer Joy was short lived, Thu 15 Oct 2009, 17:20, 8 replies)

Celebrity
wanking,dancing,shagging,whatever - on ice, in a jungle, up each other's bums...etc....

What.is.the.fucking.point?

Is it just to keep those two mekon heads in work?

The other day at work, a girl asked me, "Does your GF watch Celebrity wanking on ice, or Arse-factor*"

I said, "neither, she has red hot needles to stick under her eyelids, which in all honesty she prefers"

* may not be actual words spoken.
(dchurch bah, Thu 15 Oct 2009, 17:20, Reply)

Noticing some trends on here: Mainly TV, then sport and comedians
However, no one has yet to mention putting an bean-can exhaust on a pokey hatchback car.

Now, a Subaru Impreza needs one, and is worthy of that growl. But a Fiat Punto does not need one. Especially if it's just been a direct replacement which screws up the back pressure causing the car to lose a shit-load of horses. I've seen a beat-up old Fiesta with a fat exhaust struggling to hit 30mph within a quarter mile.

I can see why people mod up the cars. Nice set of alloys, tasteful paintwork and maybe some subtle body trim. But a fat exhaust just to make the car louder is just pointless.

Same goes for obscene speakers in the car.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Thu 15 Oct 2009, 17:16, 3 replies)

Private members' clubs
I'm not against them per se (they might not be everybody's cup of tea in today's society, but to me there's something appealing about escaping to a quiet, comfortable environment where you can have a drink, read the papers and be served dinner with like-minded old farts), but some of the rules and customs are just bizarre. A friend's father is a member of one near Pall Mall (I think), and they have an ornate set of brass pegs in the entrance lobby that nobody is allowed to touch. They were apparently installed so that full members (and nobody else) could hang their top hats up on arriving, but thanks to some protest or meeting or something, in the 1890s the members decided en masse not to conform. Frankly, I don't understand the hat rack shun.
(Vice Admiral Sir Charles Cockbrush KCB MBE DSO, who is finding it increasingly difficult to log into b3ta.com wants to duck your aunt and kick your puppy, Thu 15 Oct 2009, 17:13, 1 reply)

I don't understand
what the attraction is of being vitriolic about things you dont understand the attraction of
(Banjax, Thu 15 Oct 2009, 17:11, 1 reply)

Daft Hats
A guy I used to work with thought he was really trendy, and a couple of years back started wearing one of those daft hipster trilbies like Pete Doherty. Much derision ensued in the office, which he ignored, and we decided, eventually, that if he wanted to wear a trilby, he should go the whole hog and dress and behave like a 1930s gentleman.

On his day off, we put an old fashioned green desklamp on his desk, replaced his ergonomic office chair with a big leather wing chair, and put a traditional coat-stand and hat rack in the corner, a pipestand on the desk, etc. Then, the next morning, we all turned up early, awaiting his arrival.

Apparently, he came in through the door - in his trilby as normal, removed it to put on his desk, and only then noticed all the changes that had been made.....

He glanced around the room at the desk lamp, the coatstand, the hat-rack... heard the stifled giggles in the room, then spun on his heel, placed his trilby back firmly on his head, and said 'Oh, fuck you all then, if you want to be children I'm going home'.

And with that, he walked out.

I'd love to have been there, but at the time I was making the tea, so unfortunately I didn't see the hat-rack shun...
(SnowyTheWereRabbit the Leporid from Hell, Thu 15 Oct 2009, 17:11, 3 replies)

A conversation I had last year:
"I'm going to get this jacket"

"Oh, right. How much?"

"£600"

"You WHAT!?"

"Yeah I know - but it's Stone Island"

"Hold on - it's exactly the same as my jacket that I got for £80." (long black cashmere coat)

"Yeah... But it's Stone Island"

"So?"

"It's Stone Island."

"..."


Designer clothing. Made in sweatshops for ten pence and a smack around the face for the workers (for the most part) then marked up 10,000 percent and sold to gullible twats.
( MatJ LOOK, Thu 15 Oct 2009, 17:06, 3 replies)

Without wishing to offend a nation
America... USA whichever you wish to call yourselves, you may be nice enough in your own right. The bit I dont get is why other westernised countries what to copy you maybe I am getting old.
Why should a kid from London affect a NewYork twang, why do the streets of Paris contain MacDonalds?

YOU MANIACS! YOU BLEW IT UP! OH, DAMN YOU! GODDAMN YOU ALL TO HELL....



*Falls to knees on beach in front of big statue*
(Bonzodog29 is an unemployed sponge of the worst kind, Thu 15 Oct 2009, 17:06, 3 replies)

Victoria Wood
Her combined bodies of work have failed to raise a single smile and frequently result in anger.

Honestly, cunt cancer is too good for this woman.
(Uncle Jumbo will strip for pocket change (and/or Gin), Thu 15 Oct 2009, 17:05, 9 replies)

LONDON
FOOD
Apart from the great British institutions of McDonalds, Burger King, Dunkin Doughnuts and Kentucky Fried Chicken (of which there are at last count nearly one million franchises infesting the map of the capital like suppurated puss-filled, HIV-infected boils), you’ve essentially got two choices when it comes to a meal: Concept food that’s so incredibly pretentious and expensive, designed and created by some fella named Oli from the Home Counties, and so incredibly deviod of taste you’d rather eat the cutlery. Or jellied eels, which is essentially the same taste you get when you find a used condom on the street, pick it up, knock off the flies and dogshit, and knock it back in one go as if you’re slamming a tequila.

TRAVEL
To own a car in London you need a wad of cash large enough to club a wilderbeast to death with just to be able to afford the parking alone. You also need to go to Tibet for seven years intensive training in the buddist arts, so when you come back the fact that you’ll be stuck in a traffic jam for at least eight hours a day will wash over you like a fine jasmine-scented mountain waterfall. You won’t even mind when a cabbie (usually named Derek or Del or Dezza), raps on your window and suggests you’re mother gave birth to you out of wedlock. You will simply smile back scerenely, wind down you’re window and as politely as possible suggest he: “Goes and fucks his own mother.”

Alternatively you could try the tube. The tube is the best, quickest, and most efficient way to be sexually molested by a complete stranger in the known universe. If you’ve been wedged into a cramped tube carriage for longer than five minutes without having your bollocks jangled by some weird looking ladyboy from Brazil, you’ll receive a full refund on your fare when you reach your destination. Also, you stand a very high chance of being shot in the head by one of the members of our fine boys in blue if you look “a bit shifty or Arabic.” Note: If you are a shifty looking cunt of Arabic ethnicity I suggest you walk instead.

Or how about a black cab? These are fine as long as you’re willing, able, and prepared to listen to a complete stranger (the driver) advise you about his wife’s affair, the fact his daughter’s picked up an STD from a toilet seat at school (likely fucking story), or that all those damn blacks should fuck off back to their own country, within the time it takes to close the fucking door and tell him where you want to go. And when you arrive at your destination you’ll be rewarded with a fare so large it’d put most thirdworld countries national debt to shame.

RECREATION
The main past time for Londoners is gathering in hot, sweaty, pretentious gastropubs to talk about how fucking great they are and where they’re going to go ski-ing next season. Alternatively, if you want to ‘get down with the kids’, I’d recommend a trip down to Brixton, Hackney, or Holloway where you can play dodge the bullets and guess the brand of handgun with the colourful locals. If shoppings your thing you can play the Oxford Street bingo game. This is when you count how many rude fuckers slam into you and then tell you to “fuck off, you fucking cunt”, in the space of five minutes. The world record stands at 112 (though technically this was cheating, the person who achieved this record was registered blind).

ART & CULTURE
There’s loads n loads of museums and galleries where you get to celebrate all things British by see loads and loads of stuff looted from the four corners of the globe. Highlights include:
THE NATIONAL GALLERY - Great if you’ve got a fetish for naked fat chicks (and this is just the nutjobs who hang round outside, not the art).

TATE MODERN – If you like walking round pointing and laughing and going: “Some cunt BOUGHT this piece of shit?” Then this is the place for you.

IMPERIAL WAR MUSEUM – Actually very good. You get given a gun, a whistle, and a reusable johnny and instructions to: “Find and kill one of them damn Germans,” from the the old boy who hads out the leaflets at the door. Though its not particularly clear if – when you find Jerry – you should shoot him, deafen him, or fuck him to death.

NATURAL HISTORY MUSEUM – What better way to celebrate nature and all things natural than trawling through a great big old building filled to the brim with millions of stuffed dead animals.

LONDONERS
Londoners can be divided into several distinct groups: Australians, South Africans, New Zealanders, Italians, and the French. Everyone who lives in London knows everyone else, you can't leave your front door and pop to the cornershop to get a pint of milk without having to stop and talk to at least twenty helpful, pleasant, good-mannored neighbours. In fact its a place filled with so much positive energy and love its mandatory to meet up on the second Thursday of every month in Regent's Park, strip naked, and fuck a complete stranger...

...(well, at least that's what the bloke with scraggly beard and the stench of piss told me last time I was down that way. I declined his offer, of course - I'm not stupid enough to have unprotected sex with strange 'sons of the earth' under a tree in a park - I sucked him off instead...)...
( SpankyHanky, Thu 15 Oct 2009, 17:04, 9 replies)

Sports in General
I just don't get sports... Football in particular doesn't make any sense to me as a form of entertainment - it's just a few blokes running around kicking an inflatable from one end of a field to the other.

The only thing that gives football any semblance of interest, is the introduction of 'rules', which only really serve to lend structure to the pointlessness of it all.

Ditto Formula 1 - it's just some men driving round and around and around. One man drives the fastest. He is the best of the men.

Following sports is like using Twitter... it's only really important to you and those who follow along with you. Even then, it's not actually important, you've just convinced yourself that it is to give you something to have in common with the others.

I know movies are set in stone and invariable, but I change, so that every time I watch The Shining (for example) it seems like I'm experiencing it in a different way... That for me, is wildly more exciting!
(Brett Starbuck, Thu 15 Oct 2009, 17:02, 2 replies)

The Smiths
The group that is, not people called Smith.

Is it cool/hip/trendy, or whetever the current phrase is, to say you like them nowadays? flowers up the arse nonces...
(RTFM May your god go with you, Thu 15 Oct 2009, 17:01, 1 reply)

Not a personal account
but one I am assured is true*

There are a number of things that appeal to some but don't appeal to others for whatever reason, in turn of the century Oxford a favorite past time of the Oxford Dons was the fighting of trained animals, this still goes on today in certain more rural areas (you'll all be aware of things like Badger Baiting, Cock Fighting etc)

This remained a popular past time until the incident at the Rodent Olypmics when one one distinguished Don, a William S (name abridged but rhymes with lunar) was caused a scene by screaming that he couldnt see the rat action


*for a given value of true
(Banjax, Thu 15 Oct 2009, 17:00, Reply)