Those stickers
in UK shop windows that proudly proclaim that it is.. Illegal to smoke on these premises.
They dont tell you that its illegal to murder someone on these premises, or that its illegal to shoplift from these premises, so why does EVERY shop have it on their frontage?
(lordy lordy, Sun 4 May 2008, 17:41, 8 replies)

What really gets my coat
is me when I come out with crap puns way too early in the week.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Sun 4 May 2008, 17:31, Reply)

Too early yet?
My pert-perv is my missus who's in that 4 days post-menopausal nymphomaniac phase.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Sun 4 May 2008, 17:30, 2 replies)

some nobwit...
keeps nicking food from the communal fridge (halls at uni). I've lost eggs, milk, cheese, coooking oil and mayonnaise (diverse diet). Most annoyingly he's taken TWO unopened packets of chicken fillets. who on earth would do that?? bit of milk i understand, an egg... bit cheeky but actually eating a whole packet in a sealed container in a bag. This person must have thought.. "I'm hungry... lets see what everyone else has to eat"

So yeh... thieves piss me off when they're just too dan lazy to buy their own stuff.

And 4x4 drivers, peoplle who barge you out of the way with buggies and ex mayor (woo!!) Ken

Length? well .. he took all of it
(alpha doesn't have a witty phrase to write here, Sun 4 May 2008, 17:26, 2 replies)

In a nutshell:
Drivers who fail to use roundabouts correctly - Lane discipline is not hard. In general, it's left hand lane for left turns and straight on, and right hand lane for turning right. Unless otherwise stated, it's pretty simple. So why do so many muppets get in the right hand lane to go forward completely cutting up the person trying to go forward on the left hand side... This also rather neatly leads to...

Drivers who don't use indicators - We're not f*ckin' mind readers y'know. They are there for a reason and did not come as optional extras on your beloved four-wheeled suit of armour.

Cars which have been 'Souped-up' to the point of idiocy - No point to it. Why tart up a shitbox worth less than £500 with equipment and decoration worth over £5000? Why not just invest the £5500 in a decent little runner to begin with and put the rest away, allowing it to earn interest, so you have a tidy sum to spend when you're mature enough to use it wisely. How can driving a Vauxhall Nova which looks like Optimus Prime's afterbirth be considered 'Mint'?

Over-use of the word 'truth' A big one for me, and mainly linked to the endless conspiracy ramblings the internet has allowed since its widespread use. I do question things, I can formulate my own opinions, and of course I can question what authority says and does. BUT. Just because I might want to seek out a different viewpoint to something established or put forward by authority, don't tart up a different point of view by calling it TRUTH, when it is, in fact, merely another opinion on the same criteria. Viewpoints are not truth, and it diminishes the meaning of the word itself.

Spongers - Basically, they take the piss. I run my own business, and also do some freelance lecturing. My other half, the present Mrs. Architect, also works full time. We try and plan for our future by our earnings, paying taxes, and putting aside money to get ourselves on and up the housing ladder, starting a family and all the other little things that help life go on with some level of stability. Thing is though, we're mugs. If I'd have 'screwed my loaf' 7 years ago when I met the ever-lovely present Mrs. Architect, and subsequently done the aforementioned thing with the loaf to the Present Mrs. Architect, our resulting offspring would now be living in a well maintained 3 bedroom house, where we would be paying probably no more than £40-£50 a week in rent and getting somewhere in the region of £30,000+ in handouts a year and also maintaining a healthy Stella Artois and Lambert & Butler habit. This boils down to the 'pet peeve' of people having kids for the sake of a roof over their head, and 'free' money to them. The system is also too contrived to be effective in doing anything about it.

Soap Operas - What's the point of them? One long, continuous barrage of banality. Now, I'll admit, I do enjoy some of the long series (mainly U.S.) that get broadcast over here that have a 12-24 week run. (Lost, 24, CSI etc) I like these because I know the programme will have a definite beginning, middle and end, and things will 'tie up'. With a Soap opera, it just goes on and on and on with no end in sight, and re-hashes storylines from long ago and stolen from other Soaps and made to fit the characters. Most are meant to portray 'real life'. Here's a tip. Try switching off the TV for half and hour whenever 'Enders, Corrie or suchlike comes on, pick up the phone, go round to a friends and try having a go at enjoying 'real life' instead with a laugh, joke and a cuppa or pint.

'Celeb' magazines - Mainly for the reasons as mentioned above. These glossy views into the lives of the rich and famous only go to serve a point that you'll never be like them and must resort to handing over £1.50 every week to feel jealous of someone else's legs/arse/house/kids/dress/boyfriend/girlfriend/car*
*delete as applicable
Don't peddle this shit or allow it to be peddled. Life is what you make it, not how someone else tells you to should be making it to be like the next A list celebrity.

School-run Mums - Generally in their 4x4s, BMWs, Mercs. etc etc all crowded around the school at 8.30. Parking wherever the hell they like, allowing their little darlings to run about all over the road and standing chatting idly while some of us are needing to drive through this battlefield to get to work. - They've also never heard of the concept of car-sharing and organising small rotas between them to divide up the travel, and thus reduce the amount of cars present, increasing the number of safe parking spaces available.

Wikipedia - Yes, a GREAT resource, but it's been allowed to filter it's way through to our educational system as a first-stop shop for information. In fact, it's practically encouraged in certain schools and establishments. As stated above, I do some freelance lecturing on both higher and further education. The 16-19 year old group have, for the most part, copied and pasted wikipedia articles in their entirety to express a point, and they never read it over. I don't stand for that shit and regularly hand it back for complete re-writing, and yet I have been called up on the fact I'm 'stifling' their work as they are having to go to other sources to get information for their assignments - which are assignments designed to give them the very basic skills and knowledge needed to get a foot on the ladder in the Construction Industry. Tough shit kids. There are loads of resources out there, including books, and I can tell you something, in 2-3 years when you start out in the Industry you'll be needing to call on that information I made you re-write to ensure you understood it.

To name but a few. There may be a part two to this, or an extended edit to this later on.
( The Great Architect is still waiting for his account to be deleted on, Sun 4 May 2008, 17:09, 6 replies)

Maudlin Mccan and Keyboardman
reminded me of my all time favourite little pet hate. The one thing that both drives me crazy and yet secretly amuses me at the same time.

People abandoning items in supermarkets.

It drives me crazy because it's so rude and lazy. Why not put them back where you got them? No-one else ever picks these items up either, as they have been stained with the foul mark of rejection. My friends have realised how furious this makes me and now point such items out.... one of them sent me a picture from her mobile phone of a pair of slippers in a FRIDGE in Asda. It had "saw this and thought of u" under it. I almost pissed myself, but secretly wanted to drive down and move them.

However.....

It always fascinates me, the odd places you find these things. I mean.... finding an abandoned pie next to the slim fast you could understand, but slippers in a fridge? What was it about Muller fruit corners that made someone think "to hell with comfortable indoor footwear!"? Razors in the fresh fruit? Potato scones abandoned next to pots.

It always makes me feel a bit like I'm in a shit version of CSI trying to understand these little crime scenes.
( baw__bag contains traces of nuts on, Sun 4 May 2008, 17:06, 4 replies)

Tourists
They walk, oh ... so ... sloooowwwwly ... YES, you're on holiday. How nice. I have to work as an au pair to get a freakin' Italian holiday. Kiss my Aussie arse and get the fuck out of my way.

Three abreast on the footpath, the entire contents of a tourist bus walking slowly, stopping suddenly to point at things that actually aren't that interesting, and forcing me to almost be run-over by mopeds and other buses full of slow, fat tourists who annoy the shit out of me and force me onto the road, causing a never-ending cycle of tourist-hatred ...

Milling about on corners like a fat flock of sheep, so that I can't get past and have to stand, waiting, because if I go on the road ... well, see the first paragraph.

Then glaring and tutting at me because I have a smoke in my hand. FUCK OFF.

I've been a tourist many a time. I walk at a brisk manner, so that I can actually see a few things each day, instead of spending 90% of my day strolling along one street and then spending all my money in tourist-trap souvenir shops.

Stop having screamingly loud conversations via Skype next to me in the web cafe.

Stop thinking you're having an Authentico Italiano Experienza because you paid 6 Euro for a coffee and managed to see one thing in town for 5 minutes before ambling at snail's pace back to the tourist bus and FUCKING OFF like you should've done BEFORE annoying me.

GRRR!

Double amount of venom goes for the Yank frat-boy-types, who look and sound like wankers and are mostly wiggas, and definitely virgins, who call each other, "Bra," instead of, "Bro," (or, "Fucking Yank wankstain cunt,") and who say crude things about my tits because they think I'm Italian and can't understand.

Then whimper and apologise and suddenly lose the Fiddy Cunt Cent accent long enough call me, "Ma'am," and possibly pee their pants after I turn around and spew well-crafted, sweary insults at them in a mock-Steve Irwin-strong Aussie 'Strine' accent that makes them think I wrestle crocodiles and will cut their lips off with a broken Fosters bottle.

(Actually, they most probably think I'm a wanker and\or batshit crazy and laugh at me after I walk away. Oh well.)

FUCK THE FUCK OFF YOU FUCKING FUCKS.
(Celerydemon, Sun 4 May 2008, 16:52, 5 replies)

PET PEEVES
Deary me I thought I was Mrs Calm and controlled until I started reading these posts and then I remembered! My very own top pet peeve - 'Baby on Board' stickers or 'Cheeky Monkey on board' or 'Princess on board' signs bobbing about in the back window of a citroen picasso or some other horrible car that the manufacturers think you actually want to drive, just beacuse you have bred.

These signs just make me want to vomit with their smugness and then ram into the car several times.

I know the safety police would say that if there was a crash the emergency services would know to look for the baby/monkey/princess and, if so all well and good, but what about the other 90% of the time when its just you and your huge vehicle wrapped round a tree?

You may think from this that I'm from the childless camp but I've actually done the deed three times and then crammed them all into the backseat of a mondeo which at least looks like a normal car and not a mobile playpen.

I've just remembered another nausea inducing sign 'mum-to-be on board' what is it with these signs - just because you've managed to start the reproduction process don't hit my car! argh - I think I need to lie and and relax (except that I can't I have to go and build a beatle with my 4 year old)
(scaredy-cat, Sun 4 May 2008, 16:47, 5 replies)

"Soft" parents
I'm working as an au pair at the moment, and the kid I have to spend time with is the biggest brat I've ever come across.

I've been teaching for 8 years, so I've seen a fair few kids, but this one has got to be the brattiest little bastard EVER.

The parents, however, are whom I point the blame at - they NEVER tell him off.
They may, after an extended period of time, gently say his name a couple of times (this is their way of letting him know he has to stop), but that's IT.

Example - It's after 11 PM. I'm in bed, trying to sleep. Because I don't get paid enough to afford to go to the pub and drown my sorrows.
Rosemary's Baby is upstairs, almost directly above my room, banging something on the wooden floor.
Repeatedly.
Over.
And.
Over.

After almost FORTY MINUTES, I hear a quiet utterance of his name.
Banging continues.

Again, a parent says his name.

More banging, and it now seems LOUDER.

Finally, the mum tells him he has to go to bed. He throws down whatever he's been banging with, making an even louder, er, bang, then proceeds to throw a screaming shit-fit.

Instead of going upstairs and giving the little shit a well-deserved boot up the arse, I go outside and smoke a couple of ciggies.

He's STILL screaming and swearing in Italian when I come back in.

This kind of thing happens AT LEAST once a day.

But the parents don't ever bother telling him that this sort of shit is just NOT ACCEPTABLE.

He hits me, bites me, lies to his parents about me, throws toys at me, spits on me ...
When I won't do what he wants to do, he throws a tantrum.
Hell, if I look at him sideways, or possibly breathe differently, he'll find it an excuse to explode.

Have I told the parents about this? Shit yeah. They've even witnessed it.

Have they done ANYTHING about it? Hell no.

If they want to be 'nice' parents and calmly talk about this behaviour with the child, then fine. You don't have to yell at kids and belt them to teach them how to behave.

But, for FUCKS SAKE, do SOMETHING to stop him being a whiney, violent, bratty little arsehole!

Edit: Oh, yeah, and I'm pretty sure that they're Scientologists ...
(Celerydemon, Sun 4 May 2008, 16:03, 6 replies)

Immigrants
All they do when they get into this country is just leech off benefits, raising their terribly behaved kids and attempt to terrify their neighbours.

Then, every weekend, they get horrifically drunk and piss over everywhere, shouting vulgar abuse as they go.

Oh wait a minute, that's not immigrants...
(tarbin tarbis, tarbit, tarbamus, tarbimus, tarbant, Sun 4 May 2008, 15:56, 5 replies)

Mine is seemingly simple,
I actually really hate using the words "pet peeve" to describe something that annoys me. It’s just..... GAH! I always have and always will be pissed off when I read or hear those words.



And, sadly, I have just come to the realisation that my pet peeve *being* "pet peeve", creates a never-ending cycle of inner rage. Thinking about how annoying those words are to me, reminds me that it is my pet peeve, making me annoyed at the words "pet peeve", which in turn reminds me of how annoying the term pet peeve is, which reminds me that my pet peeve is the words "pet peeve"..................................................








Make it stop. Please. Someone.
(BLuFFaLo, Sun 4 May 2008, 15:47, 1 reply)

Where do I start?...
Crap TV - Not just the pathetic reality-nonsense and "Fame Academy"-style pigswill that lurks in the evening and late night - the entire first half of the day seems devoted to persuading people to turn the TV off and do something worthwhile. Pity so many people don't realise this simple fact. If all TV stations had half a conscience, they'd just start broadcasting at around 6pm instead.
Asinine Tabloids - Imagine the collective pain of a whole Norwegian pine forest felled for the sole purpose to fuel modern media-masturbated anxiety about little girls being kidnapped, drug-addicted git rockstars being arrested (again) and how immigrants are apparently eroding this country's special little society. etc, etc.
Dogs. - They stink, make terrible noises, slobber disgustingy, don't clean up after themselves. And they give me asthma attacks. Sure, there are some truly loving, useful and intellegent dogs, but the vast majority of them are simply a moronic waste of space and food.
MP3 Phones - Simply the worst invention ever. Used all-too-often by idiots who can't be arsed to get a pair of headphones, wouldn't know quality audio was if it jumped up and stuffed itself in their ears, and seem to think that everyone else needs a quality musical education on a par with theirs (and that we don't entertain thoughts of smashing their stupid noisemaking device if they don't stop piping their inane, tinny shite from it.) Wankers.
Pathetic Abbreviations - This nonsense just makes me cringe. LOL? Yeah, your tongue's lolling alright, you lingustic fecktard. I'm surprised that you were actually bothered to use the SHIFT key.
Robot Doctors - I am a human being. I deserve to be treated as such. I know they work long hours and have to deal with dickheads that don't listen to their advice, but I listen. And I expect them to listen back.
Terror Laws - Cleverly formulated to terrorise us, the fickle, stupid and bovine public. For instance, I'm just waiting for the day that a bored policeman (or god forbid it, a PCSO) stops me in the street for taking a photo "in a suspicious manner".
Religious Nutters - Maintaining that the World wasn't created in six days by "God", using a condom, and insisting that Joe Religion's way isn't the only way doesn't make me spiritually and/or morally lacking. Heaven and Hell are not places, they are states of mind. No, the World isn't ending, Mr Nutter, go home... Also, putting some money in a collection plate is just fine by me, but there's no need to go mad. (yes, Mr Hubbard.) AND STOP BLOWING THINGS UP, IDIOTS!
Crematoria - Continuing on a religious strand, these depressing, soul-less, watered-down places couldn't look less spiritual if they tried. As if the departed's friends and family aren't upset enough, they sometimes have to visit on of these incinerators with breezeblocks tacked onto the side and try to make up reasons why they shouldn't jump on the conveyor with the coffin. I'd rather go to a funeral service in a branch of McDonalds. At least it would be over a bit quicker there.
I mean, if people are so bent on being burnt up after they die, at least do it with some style (Big funeral pyre, anyone? Burning boat?) or use the heat generated for something useful.
Unnecessarily Big Cars - Yeah, all you lot who drive your kid to school every day in an SUV, scrape the tramps and pigeons off the bullbars every Sunday, and complain about the price of the fuel. ("Oh, it does 20mpg. Good for it's size, really!") Pricks. I hate cars.

Ooh, I'm actually quite an angry man. I wish I wasn't. I'm sure there are so many more things that make me furious, but I'm actually glad I don't remember what they are right now.
Do excuse the length, takes a while to extract it all from my body.
(Connor Lingus is running this monkey farm now, Sun 4 May 2008, 15:40, Reply)

I worked in a cinema
Before working there, I used to go regularly to this cinema, for the purpose of watching films.

To me, this was a simple process. I'd hear about a film I wanted to see, see what time it was on, get some people together, then we'd go see the pre-arranged film, at the pre-arranged time.

So why did this conversation have to occur at least 12 times a week?

Knob-end: What film's on next?
Me: *name of next film starting*
KE: What's that about?
Me: *presses F10, reads out brief synopsis*
KE: Is it any good?
Thinker wonders whether it's worth pointing out that he works at the cinema, and therefore doesn't choose to spend a lot of his free time there. Thinker, obviously, has therefore not seen this film. But I don't want to be explaining to this mouth-breather the reasons.
Me: Not really my kind of film.
KE: Oh, right. Well, what's everyone else going to see today?

At this point, I just want to reach over, grab the fucker by his ears and smash his face into the counter, hard, several times, shouting MAKE A FUCKING DECISION FOR YOURSELF YOU FUCKING FUCKWIT IT'S NOT THAT FUCKING DIFFICULT.

Of course, I don't, because that would mean me going to prison.

Of course, it's frustrating when that's one person who's just come to the cinema, without any idea of anything that's on. But when a whole group of people- sometimes up to about 25 of them, and they just turn up at some random hour, usually an hour before the next film starts, and they'll ask about EVERY ONE.

Oh, and then there's the selling of Popcorn.

When you've been given the option of sweet popcorn or salted popcorn, "normal" is not an option.

When asked "is that small, regular or large?", and you say "Medium", I'm always tempted to just ask again. You've not chosen one of the options given to you. It's not difficult. Small if you're a cheap skate, Large if you're sharing, Regular if not.

God, I'm terrified that these people get to vote. And that, when I inevitably end up in court, being tried by a jury of my "peers", these are the cuntwitted fuckjaws that are going to choose if I've broken the law or not.
( Thinker, Sun 4 May 2008, 15:29, Reply)

Really gets my goat
1. Lists: Can't stand them, I like everything to be in a totally random order. Much this, like better.

2. Letters. Stupid fucking system. 26 symbols? Bah. I prefer to communicate by pointing and grunting. Writing my arse.

3. The number three. My god it annoys me. I'm getting progressively more passive-agressive with every successive mention of this accursed numeral. I thing we should burn it.

4. People in general. Lazy bastards, living. Just living. That's all they do. Shoot em all I say.

5. Sex. Because I haven't had any. Apparently people say they can tell. Dunno why.

6. This QOTW. It just aggravates me so badly! I wish I went to an American high school, just so I could vent my frustration by shooting some dudes up...

I would apologise for length, but I am far too vexed. I'm going to stick my cock in a bee-hive just so the pain will blind my growing anger.
(tarbin tarbis, tarbit, tarbamus, tarbimus, tarbant, Sun 4 May 2008, 15:25, Reply)

.
-twats who wear t-shirts when it's like 12 degrees Celsius and always say 'ITS FUCKIN FREEZIN MATE' well put a coat on then fuckwit.

-bullshitters, someone said to me dr pepper and diet coke lowers your sperm count, PROOF PLEASE??!!

-Chavs who shout abuse or just chavs in general, some chav told my mate to get a haircut, why? Another chav called me an emo just cos I have longish hair and also said he would 'smash my fockin face in mayte innit'

-Chavmobiles, how fucking pathetic do these piece of shit 50hp cars with exhausts the size of a black hole and terrible shitty chipmunk voice dance music really look bombing down the road like it was a race track, how the fuck do they get licences springs to mind.

-applying for jobs, application forms... WHY?!! they ask the most random questions such as what race are you and they always expect you to have about 34536 jobs you've had before even if you're only 16.

-also, last but not least, MADELINE MCCANN. Look we don't care anymore, it's been a year already so just accept that she's fucking dead for fuck sake, if her parents didn't go out then none of this would have happened. Simple
(Paddy O'Dawes, Sun 4 May 2008, 14:57, 1 reply)

Many, Many Many Things
1) Trams
I have to take the tram to and from work. The tram itself is great. The general public aren't. a) If the tram is full up and there is no space, don't try and squeeze on. Wait for the next one, they come every 5 minutes. If you are going to be late for work, wake up earlier and give yourself more time. b) LET PEOPLE FUCKING OFF BEFORE BOARDING. Seems simple, but the people of Nottingham haven't grasped this. I now take to holding my arms out like a scarecrow when wanting to get off and people try to get on to make the point. c) A common one, mobile phone music. These idiots walk around like they are Johnny Rockhard, but they listen to some knobjockey with a snare and some woman whining on it. d) If I am next to a seat and about to sit down, don't for fucks sake sprint down the carriage and try to get there before me, you will only make me angry and I will shoulder charge you off it to allow me to sit down.

b) Supermarkets
Again, the general public, leaving trolleys in the middle of aisles, letting kids run riot.

c) Calling "Children" "Young People"
THEY ARE NOT PEOPLE. Anyone under the age of 18 should be sent to live in the desert with Bedouin tribes until they are of adult age. Children should be neither seen nor heard, unless they are cleaning my chimney or working in a coal mine.

d) Call Centre Work
For my sins I work in a call centre for a well known Credit Card company in the fraud department. Unfortunately, again, the general public are unaware of just how many sneaky fuckers are constantly trying to defraud us (not them - it is a credit card, using the company' money, not yours). They will ring up and say things like "why is my card not working?" So you bring up the details and say something along the lines of "Have you been in Lithuania recently?" "NO I FUCKING HAVEN'T MAK MY CARD WORK" "Oh, well it seems as if someone has been withdrawing £100 a day from your account over there" *silence* "we did try to contact you, and have sent you two letters about this..." "WELL I DIDN'T THINK IT WAS IMPORTANT ENOUGH FOR ME"

Clue - if we try ringing you twice, leave you answerphone messages, texts and send you letters, and your card spontaneously stops working, put 2 and 2 together fuckwit.

Secondly, people who think they are way better than you just because you work in a call centre, and try to lie about things to pull a fast one. I have a law degree, I know when people are lying, I also know about balance of probabilities. Therefore, when I ask "do you still have your card?" and they answer yes, then I say "do you write down your pin?" and they say no, there is only one person that could withdraw that £250 a day from the cashpoint down the road from you *thanks google maps*. I won't back down, I have all day to sit and argue with you, and I will if necessary.

Thirdly, when people call in and say "oh it's my wifes account can you tell me what this is about?" No I can't. How do I know you are her husband? How do I know you haven't just stolen the card and want to get details from me? Would you be happy if I told you? Would you be happy if Mr X called up after mugging her to take over the account? No! So stop whining when I won't do as I'm told by you.

e) Mobile phones whilst driving
Self-Explanatory really, if the call is that important pull over.

Some people see this as therapy, my blood is literally boiling.
(triley, Sun 4 May 2008, 14:48, 2 replies)

There are probably hundreds and hundreds of things.
But in the interests of not becoming a pet hate to others, I shall be brief.

1) The tabloid use of the word "tot" to describe small children. I cannot describe exactly why but I absolutely fucking loathe it.

2) Bob Crow. I loathe this man on a molecular level. The physical pain I would inflict upon him given the chance knows no bounds.

3) Local Radio. BBC Three Counties radio makes the Daily Mail look like the Village Voice. Never have so many ignorant, angry racists been given carte blanche to spout crap at length (why do I listen you ask?- alas, I need the travel bulletins).

4) If you are seeking technical support on a product, WHY DON'T YOU TELL ME WHAT THE SODDING PRODUCT IS? My psychic abilities wane on contact with morons which leave me unable to automatically guess which of the dozens of speaker designs we've built over the years you are attempting do describe ("they're the brown ones with the three drivers, you must know the ones I mean.")
(Leonard Hatred briefly did some work on, Sun 4 May 2008, 14:45, Reply)

11)
Me.

More precisely when exactly did I turn into an old fart?

I am 33, not too bad is it? not ugly, have a little bit of podge but its being worked on, earn a decent wage and don't dress or act badly so what on earth is going on?

My crimes include.

Golf. I know I shouldn't, and why pick a sport where just the equipment costs an absolute bundle!?!? its terrible, and im not even very good at it! its not like I need to be able to to go on corporate shindigs or anything, I just started playing one day, aaargh.

I tut. And sigh. For no particular reason whatsoever. sometimes one follows the other in quick order. when did this start? what the fuck? god its a slow steady decline to paper doilies and a doll covering up my spare toilet rolls at this rate.

I was down the pub Friday night and was sitting next to a table of Germans playing drinking games. 5 years ago I would have asked what the rules were and joined in, but no, I actually thought "oooh they are going to have a headache in the morning" fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck Tourettes couldn't have sworn more after it dawned on me what had just gone through my mind.

All nighters. 15 years ago if I was going out for a good drink and crashing round someones house I would take a toothbrush and a change of pants and sleep on the softest piece of carpet available. Now, christ its a military operation, duvet, pillows, sleeping clothes, a bag of washing gubbins and at least one more entire change of clothes than is strictly required. Im MALE!! its not like I even worry about what to wear, its in my head "you might need them just in case" Im doomed.
(Halfy By light alone, Sun 4 May 2008, 14:39, 6 replies)

Pople who are incapable of saying "bye" just once at the end of a hone conversation.
You know the type - so morbidly insecure that they have to say "bye - bye" in a horrible, tremulous falsetto, as if unsure if the other person heard them.

It drives me mad! - it is not even a "bye bye" said close together, but with a noticeable pause and then a gabbled second "bye".

Just say it once and be done with it for fecks sake!
(brumguvnor www.twitter.com/brumguvnor, Sun 4 May 2008, 14:29, Reply)

Oh alright, i'll say it!
Thanks to Legless for the inspiration ;)

I'm usually quite a placid person. Wouldn't (couldn't) hurt a fly. I am 6"3' yet completely docile. There are very, very few things that annoy me. Although, those few things will send my anger (and blood pressure) through the roof.
For instance, people trying to read my screen when i'm typing something. That really makes me rile, but the main one is to do with my occupation: IT.

I am 3rd Line support for the Systems and Networks department. This means that i shouldn't have to deal with inane problems, but it does. Our hell desk are incompetent. So what does this mean? When people try and send an email and it doesn't work (e.g they get a Delivery Failure on a mail), it gets forwarded to me. That's fair enough, our SMTP servers could be down or something?

No. It's not. The user swears BLIND that the email address is correct. Yet, the REMOTE site is saying the address doesn't exist. THE ADDRESS DOESN'T EXIST!
I try, and try to tell the user this but will they have it? Will they fuck. Sometimes it gets escalated, with me having to speak to management explaining why i refused to help the user!

People completely underestimate the amount Administrators understand about the networks they're employed to maintain, just because your "Computer Whiz" mate has told you i'm wrong doesn't mean i am. Infact it is more
than likely he's a fuckwit. So please, be nice to your network Admin. Especially you middle managers with your Mercedes.

Other things that annoy me have been said countless times here so i won't go into them.

I'm all worked up now. Thanks b3ta.
( Axai is in Montréal, Canada O.o, Sun 4 May 2008, 14:29, 2 replies)

Tim fucking Westwood
he really is a pillock.

enough said
( evilamnesiac says fuck you Prince, Sun 4 May 2008, 14:25, 3 replies)

What can't I stand?
Intolerance.
(beatpig understands subliminalesbianmessagaying., Sun 4 May 2008, 14:13, 1 reply)

I know how you feel ...
you know those prats (every workplace has one) who know *exactly* how someone else feels in any given situation? Why aren't we allowed to shoot them?

Example 1: Couple of years ago, my mum was diagnosed with breast cancer. Luckily, it was caught very early, and treatment was swift and successful (touches wood) so that she's still here to drive me nuts. A colleague, who's mother has never known a day's illness, comes out with the above remark. Oh no you fucking don't. You have absolutely no idea how I feel, and even though you're an objectionable twat I hope you never do. Another colleague, who'd lost her mother to the same thing, merely offered support and a listening ear. Far more useful.

Example 2: Many months pregnant with second child, I was suffering severe sciatica. I could barely walk some days, and was limited in the painkillers I could take. Thankfully, it resolved after the baby was born. Same colleague as above, same stupid remark. Being just a *tad* hormonal, I asked sarcastically if she'd ever had sciatica, and nearly fell off my chair when she said no, but she'd once pulled a ligament in her ankle. So have I, and the pain is very, very, different. Which I pointed out, and she denied. In her opinion, all pain was the same.

I could fill pages with examples of this woman's false empathy for a variety of situations, but won't. You'd all get bored, and so would I.

My advise to everyone out there - never use this phrase. Humans are all different, we react to pain differently, whether physical or emotional. Much better to express regret at another's suffering, and offer whatever support you can. Even if it's just a shoulder to cry on, just feeling that someone else gives a damn can help at the worst of times.

To sum up, please don't say this to me, as a punch in the kisser often offends.
(TheWeeWitch hasn't been here much recently .., Sun 4 May 2008, 14:07, 6 replies)

Content filters
that mean I can't access B3TA in work due to "adult humour"

cock-knockers
(magic the cat will someone please think of the kittens, Sun 4 May 2008, 13:56, 4 replies)

English pubs in spain
Annoying enough on their own but why advertise Sunday lunch with real Bisto gravy?

Real gravy is made with the fat and juices that run out of the meat when it is roasted - there is no such thing as real Bisto gravy

Bisto gravy is for people who are so shit at cooking/lazy that they can't even knock together a simple sauce

5 ingredients

Juices from the meat plus a small bit of cold water and gravy browning, add flour and mix into a goo/paste then add the hot water from the stinkiest greens that are being cooked to go with the meal (cabbage is ideal for this) and stir until at your preferred consistency

Easy isn't it

Ps if your going to live in Spain (or any other country for that matter) then please try to learn some of the language, think about how much you complain about bloody foreigners coming over here and then invert the situation.

I spent 12 years living and working overseas and if there was one thing that got on my tits it was fucking ex-pats who thought they were still living in Surrey but with better weather.
(magic the cat will someone please think of the kittens, Sun 4 May 2008, 13:42, 8 replies)

Professional incompetence
Now, Legless has already done a stirling job in pointing out the multitude of flaws in our beloved Government. And yet there's Gordon whining on about how Labour can secure a 4th term despite an utter trashing in the polls. Er, not if you keep going with your punitive policies you won't mate.

That aside, incompetence drives me up the wall. There's far too much of it about, and the people responsible for their professional fuckwittery seem to generally go unpunished. I could rant all day about this, but there is one instance that I would like to share.

My ex mother in law died a few years ago, courtesy of the big 'C'. Now, she had a bit of a history, having first been diagnosed with breast cancer in 1992. She was wheeked straight into hospital for treatment and, following a successful course of radiotherapy and chemo, emerged fit and well again a few months later. The cancer was caught early enough to be treated. All was well, but regular checkups after that were the order of the day.

Five years later it came back, but again was caught early enough for it to be treated. It did put a spanner in the works for our holiday plans that year - a 3 week trip to the west coast of the States, which we had to put on hold (she was coming as well, you see), but that was OK, we just went the year after.

Again, all was well. Until 2001, when she started suffering from pains in her chest. Of she trotted to the doctor, to be fobbed off with "You've probably strained something, take it easy". This continued for the next 6 months, by which time the GP had reluctantly agreed to send her for some tests. By which time it was discovered that not only had the cancer come back, it had spread to her ribcage and one of her ribs had actually been partially eaten away - it didn't show up on the X-ray.

She died about 18 months later, the cancer being incurable this time. Once it gets into your bones, that's it really.

So my peeve in this instance is this. How come, when a 50-something woman with a history of breast cancer, and who's own mother was killed by the disease, goes to see her GP complaining of a pain in her chest, there was absolutely no regard to her medical history and no recognition that there may be some link between the two..?

I know that people in the medical profession are probably under a lot of stress. I accept that mistakes happen, people die on the operating table - it's an inherent risk, and one that I don't really get my bowels in an uproar about. But when a patient has a history of a disease and comes to you with symptoms that, whilst not consistent with breast cancer could have an underlying link, why did it not switch a lightbulb on in your head? And why did you consistently ignore her gut reaction that this was something more than just a muscle strain?

You condescending, God-complex suffering, 'expert' prick.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Sun 4 May 2008, 13:40, 10 replies)

Oh yeh, the escalators at my train station (Leeds), if you have time, just watch them a while,
there's always at least one stupid cunt, and I'm sorry but it's usually a young woman, who will get to the top, and stop. Right there, with 30 people packed behind her, being pushed unstoppably forward towards her back, she'll stop and start to fiddle with her bag or something, and then she'll act all surprised and annoyed if anyone says anything to her, even if it's just 'Excuse love!'.

My reaction was not quite so polite the last time this happened to me.

And while we're on the subject, before you decide to engage the ticket clerk in a long conversation about possible tickets you might possibly purchase one day and whether you can get some kind of discount possibly, look behind you then too, maybe one of us in that rapidly expanding queue might have a fucking train to fucking catch.

Ya cunt.
( ..wil, Sun 4 May 2008, 13:36, 3 replies)