Bowie
I love David Bowie. I love him so much. I'm 20 years old so my first encounter with Bowie was in the film Labyrinth. At that moment (about 14 years ago) I fell in love.

Even if you don't like his music you cannot deny that the stuff he wrote is seminal, thus deserving a good degree of respect.

So when discussing music with an 18 year old punk lover it nearly broke my heart to hear him say that Bowie's music is just 'spaceman shit'.
Oh. My. Science.
Bowie may as well have invented punk, you little ignorant shit head! If it weren't for Bowie there might not BE punk as we know it!

Also, I hate spitting. If you're gonna do it, please do it discreetly! Don't do a massive loud hock-up and fire your yellow blacmange at my feet just as I'm walking past you, you filthy filth-monger. YUCK!
(saf, Tue 6 May 2008, 14:57, 3 replies)

Clothes
BGB's post below has reminded me...

Why is it that I buy an item - a new fleece for climbing/hiking in, for example. I spend a fair amount of money on the fleece - £30 approximately from my local branch of Blacks. It's a good name - Berghaus - therefore I expect it to last a reasonable amount of time.

I do not expect it to bloody well shrink within a month of me buying it, thus causing me to think,
1)I've put on weight
2)My arms have shrunk

So why is it that then when I go and pick up a cheap fleece from Aldi (their outdoor gear is cheap and quite good) that one lasts forever!

The same thing happens with any cotton t-shirt.

Surely in this day and age when we can communicate with people all over the world at the press of a button, someone could come up with either a washing machine which doesn't shrink clothes or a fabric which doesn't instantly become smaller on contact with warm water.
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Tue 6 May 2008, 14:53, 5 replies)

in addition to Legless' post
this really is a good example of what us Brits are best at... for two reasons:

1. We like to moan. About anything... from how pegging out the washing, to how it gets to warm, or too cold... nothing is ever perfect for this country. There is always the minority which moan, which seems to always govern and control the country. This leads me to reason 2. As most people don’t like to make a scene… the people that do, tend to lead.

2. We can't moan as the situation unfolds.... nooo. Keep it in for later - then of load the angst where its safe, like at home to your family around the dinner table, or on a WEBSITE. No body likes to make a scene. Another good example is Road rage. In our car we are safe, and in fact its just an extension of our home. Territory is important to a good moan. If we aren’t in our own territory then we grind our teeth , smile and move on, pretend everything is ok... don’t loose face.
(Dan dan dan They tik urh jerbs!!!, Tue 6 May 2008, 14:53, Reply)

Real Life Lesbians.
They never look like they do in my DVDs or 'jazz-mags'.
(Tugnut I got them all..., Tue 6 May 2008, 14:52, 5 replies)

Football fans
Football:

It doesn't fucking matter.

Get the fuck over it. Here are grown men, crying because a group of overpaid millionaires didn't get to earn more money for playing a game.

Why are the fortunes of Manchester United, Liverpool or Arsenal any more important to you than the fortunes of Little Soddington U16s Sunday League team? Are you going to mope when the football team made up of local Argos employees loses against the team made up of local Odeon employees? Of course not, because it's just a bunch of people kicking a ball around, having a laugh, in the same way that the Premier League is.

So stop taking it so fucking seriously!
( Thinker, Tue 6 May 2008, 14:51, 13 replies)

Parking space thieves.....House alarms.....Choppsy fucking dogs
I,ve been living at my current abode for 4 years now and had a problem with one nieghbour who had three cars,fucking choppsy dog and a alarm on his garage.
After buying the house I found that the nieghbour decided that he would still like my parking space for him and his 2 sons(i only have one car).After telling him to shift his fucking car on a few occasions he got the message.
The dog....now the fella had a little Yorkshire terrier,Noisy little bastards at the best of times, but whenever the guy went out and left it alone he would put the dog in a front bedroom and leave the window open..Where it would bark constantly non stop till they came home..It all came to a head one night last summer when after they,d been out all day and night and I lost it big time,the dog later died,I was fucking heartbroken..
The house alarm....This guy has a garage where he parks his works van..Does he knock the alarm off when he gets his van in and out ,does he fuck the bastard thing goes off all times of the day or night..

So my pet peeve is inconsiderate nieghbours who dont give a fuck for no-one bar them selves.
(andycrass loves two hats on, Tue 6 May 2008, 14:40, Reply)

people.
people are my main pet peeve. why are people so. painfully. goddam. THICK?

my biggest hatred is people who stop in the street right in front of me. ooh, look, a shop window/puddle/bus/rutting pigeon. never seen one of those before. i'd better stop and blink at it like a muppet on a go-slow.

they are even worse in the supermarket. stupid women driving their husbands' 4x4s, spending money on their husbands' credit cards, parking their trolleys right in front of the goddam fridge/shelf i want to use, then umming and ahhing and ooohing for hours over which fat free, salt free, taste free yoghurt to choose for little brynn's lunch......... if you park your trolley over THERE, you won't block anyone else, will you? gah.

and don't get me started on tourists. i was in the harvey nicks champagne nail bar on fri (legitimate day off from my job which 99.9% of the women in there did not have!!) and you had to punch about 150,000 gawping tourists out of the way on the tube. yes, yes, it's harrods. yes, yes, it's a red postbox. now move it!

and breathe.....
( rachelswipe with a fork, Tue 6 May 2008, 14:40, 4 replies)

People who complain about
polish people coming over here 'stealing our jobs'

and yet either already work, or wont work.

leading me to believe their argument is flawed.

whos job did they steal? or rather - you didnt try hard enough in school and feel like placing the blame else where.

edit:

I have yet to see a polish person walk out of the jobcentre, Hays personnel or Adecco, dressed in a black and white suit with a swag bag over thier shoulder...

if they ARE stealing jobs, then surely someone should intervene... call the police, or as a bystander stop the criminal offence taking place.
(Dan dan dan They tik urh jerbs!!!, Tue 6 May 2008, 14:40, 6 replies)

Politicians
Fucking scumbags. They are supposed to be making the laws we have to live by. They're more crooked than anyone.

Michael Martin, the speaker of the House of Commons is one of the worst. Supposedly in charge of reforming expenses for the MP's, his wife has been allegedly been claiming £4000 for taxi fares and "informal entertaining", which as far as I'm concerned amounts to nothing more than having your mates round. I'd really like it if he paid for me to have my mates round.

Not only this, but the fact politicians in general are given grace and favour houses and virtually limitless expenses. Michael Martin again, has spent £20,000 to challenge nasty stories about him, and £1.7 million to refurbish his house, all taken from the taxpayer.

It makes me very upset that my taxes go towards paying for this lazy bastard and his wife to live a life of what seems to me, like luxury.
(Stevie Ruggling, Tue 6 May 2008, 14:38, 3 replies)

Clothing sizes in stores.
Why can't they all be uniform. Why am I one size in one store and another size in several different stores. This means I have to try clothes on evertime I go shopping. I hate this. I just want to go in, go to the rail and pick out the item in my size and go home.

Shoe styles in larger sizes. I'm a size 9 foot and 5'11 tall. Why do the styles available in my size all have 3" heels. I don't want to be taller, I just want some nice shoes with a litte bit of a heel or flat and a bit funky. I do not want to look like a bloody transvestite.
( girlinthehole, Tue 6 May 2008, 14:38, 14 replies)

Kwikfit
People that waste my time because they have no regard for my existence REALLY get me boiling.
I have just wasted three hours of my life dealing with the fuckwits at Kwikfit Rugby. Rang them on Friday re my g/f's Ford maverick exhaust system quoting the reg number so they could order the correct part. "No problem" they said "It'll be here on Tuesday".
Drove to the g/f's house and followed her in to the Kwikfit twatatorium. Before I would allow the troglodytes access to start their overpriced butchery, I asked to inspect the part. It was the wrong one. Head retard assured me "It's a pattern part, it must be the right one!".
Once I'd finally got him to actually LOOK at the car he reluctantly agreed that the part was wrong, cheerily assuring us that he could "Get one in this week". Twunt.
I asked him how much WE could charge for 6 man-hours of wasted time on my g/f's and my part and he looked like I'd suddenly started speaking martian!
My agument for compensation ran thus:-
I'd given him the reg number so he could order the CORRECT part.
I'd waited days for the part to come in.
I'd taken time off from work to get the vehicle to him on the understanding that the correct part was actually available and in stock at the depot of despair that is the Rugby Kwikfit.
None of the things he'd promised actually happened, therefore he'd wasted our time, therefore I want the time back (impossible I know) or he could recompense us for the time wasted by his company's incompetence.
Neither was forthcoming. Went to another exhaust supplier who not only had the part in stock, but would supply and fit £46.00 cheaper than Kwikfit.
Guess where all our business is going in future?

People who waste my time are all cunts, but Kwikfit Rugby are the worst.

Die soon you scumbags.

And relax!
(Captain Placid 24/7 ball gags, brownie mix and clown porn, Tue 6 May 2008, 14:31, 3 replies)

Couple of things:
One thing that I feel a little guilty about is just how much I get irritated by my Mother when she's watching T.V. Every so often she makes a little noise as if what she's hearing is somehow amazing, interesting, shocking or previously unknown. It's almost a sarcastic exlamation. The problem is she makes these noises at random (or opportune?) times. For example:

"A taxi firm boss who was caught with £400,000 of "dirty money" has been jailed for three years. " Mum: oOoOhmmmm!!!

"Peter Smith, 39, gasp!!!! was convicted at the High Court in Glasgow of laundering the money, which !!! police mMmMmMMMmm believe was gasp!!the proceeds of drug dealing. "


2 things that have already been mentioned is slow walekrs on the hgih street and people who act compeltely dumbfounded that I (at age 23) don't drive. Get over it you prick!

Also having done work in a call-centre in my student days when calling businesses a typical introduction from me would be: "Hi there, it's Michael here calling from Tree Bee" and the outrageously hilarious response would be: "Hi 'Michael Here' how are you doing".

gkldjklsjnhgklsdjgfks;ekr;!"
( whenanimalsattackhumans clad in global hypercolour, Tue 6 May 2008, 14:31, 1 reply)

An Aside...
I think this is the first QOTW that may actually reach Critical Mass and the entire Interweb will explode.

It started off fairly slow but now this whole subject is like an atomic reaction. Someone posts. Others reply and then reply to the replies or, start an entire new post which reminds someone of something else that gets on their tits so they post and others reply or start new posts..

Brothers. Sisters.

We have to stop this now or the entire fabric of the Interweb may be torn asunder...

Love.

Legless.
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Tue 6 May 2008, 14:20, 10 replies)

On behalf of my other half.
When travelling in front of a crowd of people on an escalator or other moving walkway, basic logic should tell you that if you suddenly slow down when you leave then several of the aforementioned people will plough into the back of you.

They cannot slow down, for their speed is determined by the machinery on which they stand. You are familiar with this machinery. It has deposited you where you now stand. Note that I typed 'stand', which is what you are doing when you should be getting out of the accursed way.

Do not, therefore, contrive to appear wronged when you are shoved bodily out of the way, hopefully into some form of mincing apparatus.
(ThomsonsPier consumes, Tue 6 May 2008, 14:18, Reply)

Things that try and sell themselves as healthy
By saying '90% fat free!!!!!'

so it's 10% fat then. Yeah, 'healthy'.

That beauty product face muck that contains 'activated oxygen'. What, ozone? that's a bloody free radical and the opposite of what you want. And the other one that has 'Dead Sea salt'. Sea salt is sea salt FFS.

And the fact moisturiser is not 'adding hydration to your skin', it's adding OIL/FAT.

Good job I'm a bloke.
( Rotating Wobbly Hat That's not a banana. THIS is a banana., Tue 6 May 2008, 14:15, 8 replies)

People who condemn anything remotely high-brow as "pretentious"
Wanting to become a more knowledgable person is somehow a bad thing, is it? If I want to learn French, I'll bloody do it. If I want to learn about the political machinations of the Roman Empire, I'll do it as well, rather than watch another one of the 400 documentaries about fucking Hitler on Channel 5. If I want to watch Peter Cook doing proper satire rather than Dead Ringers who think satire is dressing up as Jordan and repeating catchphrases, I'll do it. If I want to spend half an hour photoshopping a picture of Tony Blair's head onto Michaelangelo's David, then I'll do it.

None of that is pretentious. Pretentiousness is doing a shit on a floor, covering it in crisp packets and then flogging it as art.

See also: people who critisice others for having "too much free time".
(Cuthbert Annihilator, Tue 6 May 2008, 14:13, 14 replies)

Help...
I've just realised that I am a very irritable person.
(Half of Stephen Fry's right buttock pissed on your dog on, Tue 6 May 2008, 14:11, 3 replies)

But my biggest pet peeve is sociey as a whole.
The general state of society nowadays is apalling. And the way we embrace it with some sort of blindly stupid ignorance completely unaware of the irony is worst of all.

Compensation Culture, Chavs, "It's someone elses problem", Debt Problem Adverts (see "It's someone elses problem"), the fact that everything is done via F*CKING TXT MSG etc. etc.

(oh, and people who can't spell etc. - etcetera not ect.)

Rant over, apologies. Feel free to hit up the reply link with anything you like, as long as its spelt correctly.


/Note - I am under the impression a large percentage of B3tans are not the cause of my peeve so this isn't a shot at this community or website, you guys keep me sane.
( Mister B is eating an icanhazcheezburger with lmaonaise, Tue 6 May 2008, 14:08, 1 reply)

IT'S MY OPINION! I have a right to it, thank you very much...
...or do I?

b3ta has reassured my that I'm not the only person on the planet who doesn't like The Beatles, David Bowie, The Clash, T-Rex, Joy Division or the Arctic Monkeys.

Now, much as political correctness annoys me, I have always thought one of its upsides was that I was entitled to hold whatever opinion I liked about various musical artistes...yes? Apparently not.

I've had to get used to people being horrified when I tell them that I think Imagine/Starman/20th Century Boy is not the best song ever written, and that, to my ears, it's utter wank.

It's when they tell me: "Oh, but you've got to like the Beatles/Bowie/etc..."
"WHY?"
"Well, you know...they're The Beatles/Bowie/Clash/etc."
"I know they are. But why do I have to like it?"
And then they tend to struggle for a reason. It strikes me as some sort of sheep-like, herd mentality, opinion-fascism. Why am I expected to conform to this regime and like this music just because it is liked by every other human being in the Western world (apparently). If I don't like it, then I can't bloody help it. Don't tell me I'm wrong: it's an entirely subjective point, regardless of how many million other people apparently disagree with me. Importantly, how many people have actually listened to the music I'm being told I should like? How many simply feel they have to like it because everyone else does? Open up your mind and your ears and develop your own opinion on it.
(LongJohnBaldry, Tue 6 May 2008, 14:07, 8 replies)

Another car one
WHY OH WHY do people insist on redlining the fucking engine and then slipping the clutch to get into a parking space, filling my office with burning clutch-smell? *Boaks*

Is it just me, or has the driving test been abolished?
(Half of Stephen Fry's right buttock pissed on your dog on, Tue 6 May 2008, 14:07, 1 reply)

Said it before, but:
Microsoft. I work in a software house, and when our software goes wrong one of our duties is to fix it as soon as possible, as the customer needs it.

So why is it, then, that one of the largest software companies in the world can't do the same thing? How is it even remotely acceptable for them to expect other people to spend hours fixing problems which they have caused?

And why is it considered normal to release this on a support page: "This is a known problem with the following Microsoft products. In order to fix it, you must... (Procedure which takes an hour to complete)".

They have even provided the means for them to log in to your computer and fix it, so why don't they? Immediately and free of charge that is. We certainly do when there's a problem with our software.

I have also spent the last three hours trying to restore a backup of an Exchange server database onto a new server. Surely that is quite a commonplace thing to have to do, and as such should be easy? Nah, no chance.

And this is why I now use Linux where I can. At least then I can't complain, as I've not paid for it.
(Half of Stephen Fry's right buttock pissed on your dog on, Tue 6 May 2008, 14:05, 1 reply)

Daddy or Chips
Ramsay Tupper reminded me

Las week I told you about the fantastic Mrs Rakky, my mum. Considering she has valium for blood and rarely gets riled about anything, this question should be far further into the territory of the late Mr Rakky, my dear departed Dad.

Dad’s peeves would fill an encyclopedia. Anything could annoy him, from the inconsequential to the glaringly obvious. In many ways I am a carbon copy of him, particularly when it comes to getting riled. After a long and pointless rant about, say, cyclists, my mother will just give me that look that says “Just like your Father.”

One peeve that must be genetic is that neither Dad nor I could abide people eating our food. Taking food off my plate comes with the risk of being stabbed in the hand with a fork. I will gladly give you my meal, you can have all of my cake; I’m not a selfish person, honestly. But if it is on my plate, it belongs to me and I don’t share. Dad was exactly the same.

Before I was born, Mum and Dad lived in a nice little house in the North of England with their little kitty, erm, Kitty. Often, after a hard day’s work neither of them could be bothered to cook and so Dad would go to the chippy to buy their dinner. As ever, Mum would be on a diet (I’ve inherited that from her) and would tell dad not to get her anything, she’d make a sandwich. Dad knew this meant that she’d eat the sandwich, then steal chips from him. So he made her a deal. He would buy her a portion of chips, she could take the 5 or 6 that she wanted and he would throw the rest away. And he’d still have his own portion. No, mum insisted, it was fine. Dad warned her, if you don’t get your own portion, you don’t get any. Last chance…

Dad returns from the chippy with a steak pudding and tasty portion of chips, hot and smothered in salt and vinegar. He unwraps his dinner and sits down to eat it. Mum looks over, almost having to bite her knuckles to prevent herself from stealing the potatoey goodness.

Then, from upstairs, Kitty wanders over to my Dad and sits at his feet, expectantly. Dad smiles and utters the fateful words…

“Hello sweetie, would you like a chip?”

At this point, calm as you like, Mum walks over to where my Dad was sitting, picks up the plate and hurls it into the kitchen.

This is the only time in history that anyone can recall that Mum has lost her temper.

When eating in restaurants these days, Mum and I have an understanding. I have to lighten up a bit and learn to share nicely. She has to promise not to throw things. And to pay…
(Rakky (forgot her password) The muffin maverick, Tue 6 May 2008, 14:02, 1 reply)

you do the math
it's NOT fucking math

it's MATHEMATICS

see the S?

SEE THE FUCKING S!
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Tue 6 May 2008, 13:58, 3 replies)

Ooh, just thought of another one.
My ex-wife (she may well feature again before the end of the week) had a friend called Roz.

And we had a marriage guidance counsellor called Ross.

Despite me explaining many times that one was pronounced "Ross" and the other "Roz", she used to pronounce Roz as "Ross" and Ross and "Roz". But then sometimes she'd say them right.

Consequently I never knew if we were going out for a drink or for another bout of counselling.
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Tue 6 May 2008, 13:55, Reply)

I am the orginal grumpy old man
Where do I begin?

Wet flannels
People who can't hold a knife and fork properly
People who say lol on texts/emails
The lower classes
Stupid ringtones
Automated phone systems
People who say rugby players are gay/sniff each others bottoms (and generally display just how ignorant a football fan they really are)
Bad manners
Daily Mail readers
Caravans
Estate Agents who send you details of houses that you have told them are not suitable
People who order coffee in a pub
Kids who walk around playing music on their phones
People who walk round with their jeans haning off their arses

I could go on.. but my BP is rising and I have to go deal with some Germans...


oh yes, and Germans
(audreyforbes audreyforbes, Tue 6 May 2008, 13:54, 4 replies)

I think I might have some form of OCD
I cannot stand when I am doing the washing up, and my other half comes into the kitchen and chucks a plate in when Im washing up cutterly... or a cup when Im doing plates.
I have an organised washing up system that is strictly adhered to so I can get maximum amount of clean dishes etc. on the drainer without having to dry up.

Also, I hate it when I have a fucking fantastic bath drawn, and I get in and have missed some fluff on my feet. Fluff in the bath is just not cool. It ruins the whole bath.
(Kaplaaah Wasting time on the net since 1994., Tue 6 May 2008, 13:54, Reply)

Stickers
Specifically: the stickers on the soles of shoes and Cd cases that do not peel off...
(ScousersPet, Tue 6 May 2008, 13:51, Reply)

Motorway middle lane drivers...
You've been sat there at 60 for the last 5 miles, that's why I'm undertaking you.

And don't look all angry because I'm making the fanny licking gesture at your ugly wife you cock faced shit wit.
(this is a shit username, Tue 6 May 2008, 13:48, 2 replies)

And my final one (until I think of another one)
Okay, reading back on this it's turned into a bit of a rant... ready? Ok, here goes:

My ex-wife used to question everything I did or said. I didn't notice it at first, but it gradually got to the point where I felt like shouting "I actually managed to survive for 31 years until I met you, I do know how to cope you know!" in her face.

I used to get home earlier from work than she did, so I used to cook dinner. She'd invariably come home and check all the pans to see what we were having, then start suggesting "Doesn't that need turning up a bit?", "Why are you cooking them like that?" etc. The final straw came when one day she came in, looked through all the pans and said "Aren't we having any vegetables?". They were actually already cooked, I can't remember why, and in the microwave awaiting a quick blast of radiation when everything else was done.
Only, instead of telling her that, I joked "No, I thought we could just have meat and gravy tonight, since the girls don't like vegetables anyway", whereupon she went off on one about how we had to have vegetables and started getting stuff out of the fridge. I asked her if she thought I was stupid and told her about the stuff in the microwave. Then barred her from the kitchen when I was cooking.

She always thought she knew a better route to somewhere than I did too. We used to work near each other so occasionally we'd share a car. This used to drive me mad; quite apart from the fact that she always turned my CD off and listened to some shit on Northants 96 Radio, she'd give me directions at every junction, sometimes in a different direction to the way I went - again prompting me to grind my teeth and struggle to resist the urge to shout about how I actually knew the way to work and in fact managed to get there without incident 5 times a week.

Wherever we went, if I picked the route she would always mutter "I don't know why you've gone this way, it's much longer than the way I would have gone", so I started asking her which way to go before we set off.

And finally: we went through a phase of going to a friend's house once a week for a while, and the "This is the long way" comments started, so I deliberately went a different way each week to see what happened. It didn't make any difference - apparently, every route to this house was longer than all the others!
Towards the end of the marriage we had some counselling and I mentioned this; afterwards we were talking about the session and she said "I can't believe you think I question everything. You didn't go a different way every week, why would you do that?", to which I had to point out "You're doing it again now!"

*deep breath*

Sorry about the length - I think you'll find it's my fault entirely, as I've typed this the long way.
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Tue 6 May 2008, 13:46, 4 replies)