Author Archive

I hate urban handshakes

June 10, 2008

God, can normal people stop doing these? If I had a penny for every time I tried to shake someone’s hand and they then manoeuvred this gesture into a weird clenched palm, elbow in the air urban greeting, I’d have about 85p right now. Listen, you’re not a “gang banger” in the Bronx. We’re English. We shake hands. Accept it. If you can’t accept it, then please don’t try and inflict your weird hand touching fetishes on other people. Shaking hands may be seen as not macho enough, but wrapping your whole hand around another man’s hand and then pulling him towards your chest is probably bordering on sexual assault in some countries.

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I hate America

May 7, 2008

Yep, I hate every single person, place, object and entity in America.

Okay, I don’t. But that doesn’t mean I don’t hate a great number of things that America has given to the world. And it also doesn’t mean that I won’t list a selection of these things for you now.

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I hate going to see my friends’ bands

May 5, 2008

There’s little worse than being emotionally blackmailed into going to see your friends play a gig. It’s bad enough watching a dreadful, sleep-inducing band. But when your friends are the members of this soporific group, unlike at any other gig, you can’t leave early for fear of offending anyone. So, for the entire night you will then have to stand with a constant forced gleeful grin on your face to give the impression you are having fun. If everyone else is dancing you may even have to sway from side to side so as not to look too conspicuous. I pride myself on my honesty but is there anything you can do when the band come at the end to ask you what you thought apart from smile falsely, nod a lot and tell them it was “really good”?
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I hate the little sign language people who pop up on TV

May 2, 2008

One night last week I was attempting to watch an 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 man 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.

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

February 19, 2008

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?

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I hate YouTube on TV

February 16, 2008

The whole point of YouTube is that it’s on the internet. You get to decide when you watch it and how you watch it. So why all of a sudden are there loads of programmes on TV that revolve around showing clips from the internet? The worst is LennyHenry.TV on BBC1. It’s bad enough having someone unnecessarily talk you through something, which is more than entertaining enough by itself, but that smug little prick? He talks as if he is lecturing a class of special needs toddlers. He just cackles like a mentally unhinged hyena throughout every clip – even the bits that aren’t supposed to be humorous. Forced laughter is not funny. Lenny Henry, you are not funny. Also, his voice is akin to someone letting the air out of a balloon in sporadic, spasmodic bursts. Even worse, he brings on guests each week (usually confused old men) who somehow have less of a clue about what they are doing than he does, to show the world their favourite clips. Most times it looks like they have never seen the video before while they attempt to talk through it. I remember one guy gave up on the clips, stood up and tried about 40 attempts at throwing a pen in the air and catching it behind his ear. Needless to say I haven’t watched the show since.

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I hate Santogold

February 13, 2008

Santogold and MIA
Santogold and M.I.A.

I don’t get why people like Santogold. She is a shit version of M.I.A. (who is annoying anyway). She even got the same guy who produced M.I.A.’s last album to work with her. It’s as though she wanted to make it blatantly obvious what a total, utter, unashamed rip-off she is. Yet you still get reasonably sensible people who proclaim how “amazing” she is. What is wrong with them? Santogold is to M.I.A. what Jodie Marsh is to Jordan – an uglier, more man-like, more full of bullshit, more desperate, cardboard cut-out bargain bin version of someone who is already pretty dreadful. On the plus side, erm, she might have an okay shot at the next series of Global Ghetto Funk Stars in Their Eyes.

I hate self-appointed CEOs

February 5, 2008

P DiddyOver the last decade the title of CEO has turned from an undeniably esteemed position of substantial power – someone in charge of total management of a company – into a cheesy hip-hop cliché. Somehow it has become synonymous with shitty record labels and “empires” that consist of about three people, each somehow more clueless than the other. Now whenever I see the term CEO all I can picture is the smug, chubby little face of P Diddy (or P Diddly as he will forever be known to me).

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I hate my Nike iDs

February 1, 2008

Nike iDs

Some time last year I was asked if I would like to go to the Nike store in Central London to design a pair of Nike iDs for free. I am, as it happens, quite a fan of free stuff so I didn’t say no. After making an appointment, I dragged myself and my hangover along one Saturday morning. It turned out when I got there that I would only have half an hour to complete the design, but I assumed this would be fine. To help me manoeuvre my way through the tricky world of embossed leather and reverse stitching the lady in charge assigned me a dim, offensively camp little worm working in the shop. He obligingly tapped away on the computer like a concussed mole with ADHD as I told him how I wanted each section of the shoe to look. Initially it seemed like things were going well but after crashing the computer three times and losing the design on each occasion, half an hour quickly turned into five minutes. The result was this visual monstrosity you see before your eyes, which I was informed I had no more time left to change.

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