Five steps to rage
As a fully paid up member of the "Grumpy Old Men" club, my blood is regularly brought to boiling point by the usual suspects who may or may not get a b3ta style denouncement, depending on whether or not the likes of Osok, Davros’s Grandad or the much missed Pooflake beats me to the spot.

*edit* And Che. And Legless. I like Legless.

However, there are a few other slightly less obvious grievances I have with society in general which drive me crackers:

1) Lowest common denominator television

David Attenborough has earned himself a pint from me for launching a scathing attack on the BBC being "obsessed with endless lifestyle programming". And he has a point.

Our great bastion of impartial entertainment has become obsessed with appealing to the intellectually substandard to the detriment of everyone else with an IQ exceeding 84. The great comedies, documentaries and dramas we grew up with have given way to a deluge of Text Vote TV shows, with annoyingly camp hosts. Every year I send a letter to the BBC complaining that "Strictly Come Dancing" takes up ninety minutes of my BBC1 Saturday night, together with an hour a day on BBC2 during the week. Every year I get the same response; "Children in Need" as a way of reaching out to my innate sense of guilt. I do wish they'd fuck off long time.

If it isn't Z-list celebs I've never heard of in ball gowns, it's the endless grind of humiliation in the name of finding a female star of a musical I'll never willingly go and see while I still have control over my limbs.

I used to be able to look forward to a decent Saturday night film after an evening of programming devoted to learning something new. Now I have to endure endless aesthetically challenged till jockettes from Haringay/Hartlepool massacring their way through "I will always love you" followed by four hours of endless football. The corporation which once served us up the delightful dish consisting of Monty Python, Life on Earth, The World at War and Fawty Towers now slops out My Family, Trinny & Tranny and other bollocks to depressing to name in a derisory, slovenly fashion akin to a BBC canteen dinner lady.

2) Traffic Calming.

You brake, drive carefully over a sleeping policeman and accelerate up to the speed limit before repeating six times along a four hundred yard stretch of road and you wear out your suspension and brakes and burn more costly fuel in the name of safety. Hardly green motoring is it?

Correct me if I'm wrong, but as a child I was raised to believe that playing in a busy road was A Very Bad Thing. I might get hurt. And you know what? It worked for me, for I have never been run over. The current hysteria which suggests that a mob of mindless children will be shambling in front of cars like righteous zombies would be unnecessary if they brought back the road safety ads featuring Dave Prowse and Alvin Stardust which date from a time when even children were trusted with a certain amount of responsibility.

Oh, and that advert with the bloodied girl by the side of the road saying “Hit me at 30mph and I stand an 80% chance of living” makes me want to buy an SUV and go all Grand Theft Auto on sanctimonious parents.

3) Heat & Nuts Magazine

During the mid 90s, "Lad" culture exploded on the scene. What started out as slightly ironic (ie Loaded and early FHM, which both featured some amusing and informative articles and interviews now and again) has turned into an endless stream of airbrushed closeups of Abi Titmuss's & Lucy Pinder's (who?) norks. I find it hard to believe that photoshopped vacuous z listers can do it for anyone, but then I rarely shop at TK Maxx.

Moreover, given that a large number of female movie stars are over thirty years old and that a good many of them have had children leads me roll my eyes skyward when sat on the bus behind a small group of muffin-topped early tweenty somethings cackling away at the photographic evidence to support Heat magazine’s revelation that Uma Thurman has cellulite. Shock! Horror! Call the cops…

Indeed, I end up berating myself for not saying out loud

“She may well have cellulite, but I’d still rather shag her than any of you lot. Even if I were being paid for my trouble”.

4) Mobile Phones

Once upon a time, a telephone was a device through which you conversed with your friends and family, or possibly the speaking clock. Now someone had a brilliant idea, “Why don’t we make a telephone you can carry round all the time?” before building something resembling a briefcase with an aerial sticking out.

Clearly this wasn’t enough. The telephone had to become a fashion accessory and a fifty quid Nokia sports technology that James T Kirk would be envious of. Or maybe he wouldn’t.

Perhaps good ol’ Jim might want to play some shit R&B music whilst waiting for Scotty to beam him up from the surface of Q’uonos? Or maybe he’d try to impress the Klingon ambassador by showing him a grainy video of a woman defecating into her acquaintance’s mouth?

Perhaps the humourless folks from Vulcan would raise an involuntary chuckle at Angry Kid?

“it’s some sort of primitive communication device, Jim”.

5) Compensation

Now ensuring that the unfortunate victims of accidents get some sort of recompense to cover their costs isn’t unreasonable. A recent freak storm in the town of Manningtree, Essex lifted a housewife’s two year old roof clean off and threw it into the front garden. However, because the average speed of the wind recorded in Manningtree’s meteorological (why can I type that word, but find myself unable to say it?) station that evening did not exceed 58mph meant that the strict criteria of “storm” was not met and thus the insurance company did not pay out.

Meanwhile, a sweaty female chav who barely qualifies for the term “mother” falls over an uncontrolled child in the middle of her local Tesco’s and injures herself, unfortunately in such a way as to not impede her ability to reproduce.

A no-win-no-fee lawyer is consulted and Tesco pay out damages on account of the injury sustained because of an unruly and unrestrained child on their premises. Who did the child belong to? That’s right…

Compensation culture is seen as a get rich quick shortcut these days. Indeed, being hit by anything council owned is a sure way of being able to finance that new boob job. I wouldn’t care very much if it were just a case of sticking it to the corporation, but it’s affected my life in several irritating ways.

Firstly is the proliferation of risk assessments and day long courses to ensure that the stupid know how to use a ladder. Secondly is the fact that whenever someone is stupid enough to drive into someone else, the Police decide to leave the wreckage exactly where it is and stop the traffic for hours on end. When challenged, the answer is “Ealf and safety innit? We could get sued if we don’t”, while they sit around, drinking coffee and holding the working people of Britain up for a few hours.

Then there is the fact that scared corporations and councils have hiked their fees in recent years, just in case anyone slips over and injures themselves while using said product / facilities.

The phrase "Watch where you're going, you clot!" is so underused these days.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Fri 2 May 2008, 15:00, 10 replies)

I AM NOT GRUMPY
Just tetchy.








(Insane red-mist, foaming, psychotic levels of tetch, admittedly)
(osok Rebel without a clue, Fri 2 May 2008, 15:13, closed)

*click*
*clicks again*

*clicks repeatedly*

I love your posts.
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Fri 2 May 2008, 15:15, closed)

10 000
clicks from me.

I'm not sure whether or not to feel happy because there are so many people who feel the way I do or sad because there are so many people who feel the way I do and *still* the lowest common denominator rule
( I_Was_Mordred, Fri 2 May 2008, 15:31, closed)

Good post
I'm a bit worried about who the usual suspects are though.
(Bazongaloid, Fri 2 May 2008, 15:46, closed)

^this
I like the cut of your jib and would like to subscribe to your newsletter.
(bigquack, Fri 2 May 2008, 15:47, closed)

in our house,
"clot" is a euphemism for cunt :o)

Bloody well constructed (as always).

We want you for PM!
( Tourette's ( . )( . ) has a monkey hair in her fried egg, Fri 2 May 2008, 16:41, closed)

I agree with every single word of this post
so much so that I could have written it.

Only not so well.

*click*
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Fri 2 May 2008, 16:50, closed)

Clickety-clickety-clickety-click
How is it that guys like us that get so annoyed by so much arseness in today's society can actually stay so calm so much of the time?

One tip that I picked up a few years back on this very message board is to end a conversation with any annoying fucktard with the parting phrase, delivered with utmost calm: "There we are then." - a reverse acronym.

Do have a lovely weekend.
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Fri 2 May 2008, 16:58, closed)

All of the above
earns a resounding *click*
(TheWeeWitch hasn't been here much recently .., Fri 2 May 2008, 18:51, closed)

Oh, PJM...
Agree with so much you said.

However... BBC, so much better than ITV. At least they brought back Doctor Who...

I wish I wasn't pissed. I could post so much more...
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Sat 3 May 2008, 3:33, closed)