I hate meetings

Meetings are a massive waste of time. They are basically an excuse for people to go to work late, leave work early, look busy, steal other people’s ideas, get other people to do their work for them, show off or maybe amuse themselves with the aid of a really nifty Powerpoint presentation.

I hate living with people

Living where I do, being anal about hygiene and house tidiness means I can’t turn a blind eye when faeces is smeared all over the toilet, and I prefer the fridge not to smell like it’s got a decomposing family of rats at the bottom of it. My housemates are much more laid back characters. They have a special, yet common condition called Selectively Repetitive Blindness to Disgusting Mess Disorder.

I hate the little sign language people who pop up on TV

One night last week I was attempting to watch a painfully inane film that seemed to mostly involve Kurt Russell violently rutting Courtney Cox (don’t worry, there was no Johnson’s Baby Oil involved, it was just a very slow night elsewhere on terrestrial TV) when a bulbous, big-eared bloke in a pink shirt popped up at the bottom of the screen and started flailing his arms about and making sign language gestures. The guy was fucking massive. He wasn’t even keeping over to the corner either – he was right over towards the middle of the screen waving his arms up and down, and generally getting in the way.

I hate Agyness Deyn

I just really, really, really can’t stand her stupid face any longer. Every time I see it – which these days is at least 5,000 times a day – it makes me want to move to a remote island where fashion, neon and peroxide don’t and never will exist. Also, it is me or does her name make you think of a rare breed of cow that might be found in the Outer Hebrides, or maybe a demented, heavily wrinkled incidental member of the Royal Family?

I hate My Super Sweet 16

When I first came across this programme I was dumbstruck. It’s a bunch of cackling, screeching, dribbling, mentally vacant rat children with Sun-In-treated hair making horrifically extravagant demands and treating their parents, their “workers” and most other people they come across like a big bag of festering dog poo. I know the show is edited to make the kids look as bad as possible, but I still feel genuine hatred towards every single one of them.

I hate brain training

I must admit I was tempted when the Nintendo DS came out. I’d gone off games when they all started to involve getting De Niro-like into the mind of a traumatised Vietnam vet for three days before you were allowed the knife you needed to stab your way out a 3D jungle prison camp. But this new machine looked like fun, and was a pretty nice bit of product design.

When I finally did get to test a friend’s, it was for the greater part of a week after a big break up. I spent the whole time sat on a couch in a house in Sydney drinking chocolate milk and whisky, playing Advance Wars until I started dreaming in square arrangements of neon Panzer divisions. At the end of the week, I gave it back, and resolved to get on with life.

I hate people who insist on holding in-depth conversations with me while I am DJing

Before I start, I would like to point out I am not one of those utter retards who wears “FUCK OFF - I’M MIXING” T-shirts or who puts up signs by the decks saying “NO REQUESTS” or anything like that. I am not a tosser. I do, however, have a bit of a problem with people who think it is necessary to attempt to hold a really, really long, in-depth conversation with me while I am DJing.

I hate long byes and short byes

I hate when people say bye on the phone really quickly. Like their lives are so busy that they don’t have time to say the whole (three letter) word so they clip it short. They’re like, “Yeah, OK. Buh.” *Click*

I hate hand dryers

I really hate hand dryers. This is no common or garden hatred. This is seething, seeing red, want-to-rip-my-hair-out-at-the-sheer-audacity-to -even-exist hatred. If I walk into a bathroom and see one on the wall it makes me wish I had a nice weighty flat-head shovel so I could lever the fucking thing right off like I was ripping a rusty old nail out of a rotten piece of wood. Conversely, if I see one of those big roller-wipe-your-hands-dry things I dance a jig of joy right there on the spot like Michael Flatley in the middle of a chronic bout of haemorrhoids he happened to contract while walking bare foot over hot coals.

I hate airports

Nowadays, travelling via an airport to anywhere is a pain in the arse. It’s basically a total waste of time (if you ignore the minor fact that getting to somewhere really, really far away by any other means of transport would take 3-4 weeks).

There are myriad reasons I have grown to hate airports. Firstly, I always fall into the trap of checking in my luggage and then saying to myself, “Hmmm… I’m thirsty. I’ll go and buy a nice, refreshing drink at that handy newsagents over there.” After paying £3.50 for a bottle of water, I breeze along to the next stage of the airport dance - the security check-in for your hand luggage. And what do I find? I’m not allowed to bring my water through with me. Fucking weasels. Why have a shop selling a fine selection of thirst-quenching beverages that are only of use if you are so thirsty you want to pour the entire thing down your gullet in world record time?

I hate plaid

You’re not a lumberjack. You’re not a cowboy. You’re not in a grunge band from 1991. Stop it.

I hate Avril Lavigne

I hate Avril Lavigne for the following reasons: she makes music that sounds like a sewer rat being strangled by an alley cat behind a Blink 182 gig, she has one of the world’s most punchable faces, she has pink streaks in her hair (which could never look good on anyone, nevermind her), she wears ties with T-shirts and she replaces letters with numbers (”Sk8er Boi”).

So, there we have it. These are enough reasons for me and anyone with an ounce of sense to hate her. Yes? Case closed. Not so quickly…

I hate people who don’t get how the doors on Tubes work

You know those ‘Open’ buttons next to the doors on Northern Line Tube trains? Why do people insist on pressing them when they clearly do nothing? I remember when these new trains with the illuminated buttons were introduced a number of years back. I may have naively tried to press one of the pointless buttons once back then but realising it did nothing, I never tried again. So why do I see so many people pressing them every day and expecting something to happen? I see guys in suits who get on at my stop every day doing it and then huffing and puffing when nothing seems to happen. These things are clearly a mechanical placebo. Surely they must realise after all these years that pressing it has no effect. Are these people braindead?