2010? Bah Humbug!

2010 might have been the busiest year of my life – waking up on different continents, sampling new cultures, being on the dole, starting an exciting new career and discovering that I do like wine after all! Exciting times! But one thing has remained constant in the last calendar year – my capacity to become extraordinarily pissed off by the smallest things. So here’s my list of 2010’s biggest irritants. It’s by no means definitive so feel free to share yours too...

• Girls’ leggings stretched translucent over their fat arses so their knickers (or lack thereof) become visible to all and sundry.

• Australian doormen – if you look like you’re having fun or are (heaven forbid!) intoxicated, you will be on your way home faster than you can say ‘fair dinkum, cobber’.

• Hairdressers. Enough said.

• The policy which dictates you need to look over 25 to buy a product which legally you only need to be 18 to purchase.

• Owning a house: more trouble than it’s worth.

• Barry Letham: the Scottish cunt who stiffed us for around a grand.

• People who can’t make a cuppa without making a fucking mess. How difficult can it be to put a teabag, some hot water and milk in a mug without spilling? Very difficult, it seems.

• The coalition government. What a shower of disingenuous wankbaskets.

• Diarrhoea. Three weeks worth.

• England football fans. At least the misguided fools have had a dose of reality now.

• People who balance things on top of overflowing bins rather than emptying them.

• Antipodean immigration services. Where has the mud on my shoes come from? From walking in mud, you silly prick!

• The abolition of the UK Film Council.

• The UK’s pathetic inability to cope with a few inches of snow. Thank fuck we live in a temperate climate or we really would be buggered.

• The fact that it’s so hard trying to obtain decent denim at high street prices – I do not do skinny jeans!

• The World Cup. Arguably the worst international tournament ever. And whilst we’re on the subject, vuvuzelas are awful, too.

• Damaged knee ligaments.

• The uniformly useless staff at the Job Centre: “Sorry sir, but we have no idea what to do with people who actually want to work.”

• Cats shitting on my vegetable patch.

• Foxes shitting on my vegetable patch.

• Twitter – I’ve never seen it and I’m not even slightly interested in it. So why am I so sick of hearing about it?

• Public sympathy for Raoul Moat – a man who somehow become a modern day Robin Hood despite being a horrible bastard who killed a man, blinded a man and shot a woman.

• Howard Marks. I waited and waited and he didn’t show. And I really needed a piss.

• Companies without the common courtesy to acknowledge your job application.

• Robbie’s re-admittance to Take That. They should have let the painkiller addled egotist rot.

• Non-existent damp patches. Interpret that as you will.

• Getting robbed in my sleep.

• Michael McIntyre. What a smug little twerp.

• The Pope and his pompous publicity tour.

• One-handed Chinamen.

• Facebook vigilantes: suggesting that rape is too good for a woman who put a cat in a bin is going too far. FB ought to police the wankers setting up and contributing to these groups more carefully.

• Rampant commercialism – as represented by the tribespeople of the Red Dzao women of northern Vietnam. The Tat Offensive.

• Being skint. Being a teaching assistant is rewarding – but not in a financial sense.

• Michael Gove – for impoverishing the British school system still further.

• Cher Lloyd. A sneering Dickensian urchin swaggering around like someone’s kicked her in the cunt. Repulsive beyond comprehension.

• iPhones. Put it away while you’re in company.

• Gareth Barry. What does he do? What is he for?

Would love to hear your thoughts and bugbears – comment on the Facebook page if you wanna have your say! Cheers peeps! And Happy Christmas!!!