Christ, where do I start...
In no particular order:

* Saturday night telly. For fucksake. X Factor. Fame Academy. Britain's Got Talent. Ice Dancing Pish. Nancy. The Sound of Music. Joseph. Christ on a bike. And all of the contestants have been 'on a journey'. I'd send you on a journey right enough - to the bottom of the friggin sea you vacant, self-important little twats.

* Celebrities. Not proper celebrities, but people who are just famous for being famous. That fat bint from big brother. Jordan and that pretentious, satsuma-faced goon of a husband. Pete Docherty. Plus many more.

* Home made tattoos on people serving food in our canteen. Including spelling mistakes. Eeek.

* Amateur hillwalkers, particularly of the home counties variety. The ones that come up to Scotland walking for the weekend, during a blizzard, wearing a cagoule and a pair of flip-flops. Surprisingly they get lost, and the RAF have to despatch 3 mountain rescue teams, a helicopter, and a Nimrod to find the twunt. Let the fucker die on the slopes.

* Football pundits, and their crap banter. "Yes, but city can't compete in the transfer market with your Real Madrids and your Barcelonas." You what? There's only one of each you prick!

* Tim Westwood on Radio 1. Have a word with yourself you twat. What pish is that you're talking?

* Fat girls in the summer time wearing very little clothing. Surely the Taste and Decency Police should plan a pre-emptive cull in Springtime?

* Tiny coffee cups that you can't get your frigging finger through the handle of.

* Noisy eaters. Kill them all. Nuff said.

* Poor manners. Usually more from the oldies than the youngies, bizarrely. But it's the baffled old buggers who whine about the manners of the young.

* BBC Radio 1 News trying to hard to 'get wid da yoof'. "The Bank of England have fired 50 billion quid into the economy...." and other such patronising pish.

* Small women driving enormous 4x4s. It just doesn't work. They can't tell where they're frigging going for Christ sake.

* Lorries on dual carriageways who insist on overtaking other lorries by doing precisely 1mph more than the other vehicle. Consequently it takes them half a bloody hour to get past them, leaving a 5 mile tailback behind them. Aaargh.

* The phone ringing just as my buttocks have made contact with the couch. Usually just as the footie kicks off.

Christ, I'm out of breath. I'm off for a lie down. I've just ruined my own weekend....
(Reverend Fister "a disciplined fuckwit", Fri 2 May 2008, 14:30, 3 replies)

*click*
For "Taste and Decency Police".
( Cawl, Fri 2 May 2008, 14:35, closed)

re: item 3
Best home made tattoo ever:

I used to know a chap who'd decided on a Motorhead tattoo. Nothing wrong with that, I'm sure you'll agree.

Unless, of course, your amateur tattooist 'mate' cannot spell. In which case for the rest of your life you'll be walking round with a half abandoned blurry green tattoo on your forearm that reads 'Mota'.

Eh, James Graham?
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Fri 2 May 2008, 14:39, closed)

Tim Westwood
hails from Norwich

AAAARRR, ave a look at moi pimped up Marssey Fergosun, its got 74" alloooys ooh arr ohh arr
(Halfy By light alone, Fri 2 May 2008, 14:47, closed)