I hate Jacobite shirts

February 29, 2008 by

Jacobite ShirtUnless you are an extra in a Braveheart-esque epic about Scottish history (that is actually filmed in Ireland because it’s cheaper) you should never have a need – far less, a desire to wear a Jacobite shirt.

Hailing (unsurprisingly) from Jacobian times, these stringy, crinkly, frilly, over the top, wiry chest hair-revealing beauties seem to be most popular at weddings when worn with a kilt and some lovely woolly socks. The Jacobite shirt can also be spotted in more casual surroundings too. In these instances I’ve noticed it’s most commonly teamed with a nice pair of regular fit, stone washed 51 State Dad jeans.

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I hate plaid

February 28, 2008 by

Plaid party

You’re not a lumberjack. You’re not a cowboy. You’re not in a grunge band from 1991. Stop it.
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I hate washing powder

February 26, 2008 by

DazI remember watching a film about a transsexual Muay Thai boxer on a Cathay Pacific flight once. The sensei character in this movie died not from a sneaky death poke or rabbit punch, but from developing cancer from his day job in a laundry. Now maybe I missed the finer points – and the dramatic purpose of this death was to establish the main character’s battle against the nemesis of well pressed, laundry-folded menswear – but the thing is, I ‘m starting to worry this is going to happen to me. Living, as most people I know do, in shared rental accommodation in London, I do not have a seperate utility room, and hanging pants over kitchen furniture is a little undemocratic – a scant step up from territorial pissing in the corners. And so washing ends up on a rack by the radiator in my bedroom. And in winter months, with the radiator blaring – I wake up every morning with heavy lungs, a sore throat and a newly stoked hatred of the vile smell of washing powder.

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I hate Avril Lavigne

February 20, 2008 by

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…

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

February 19, 2008 by

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 soya milk

February 19, 2008 by

Soya AKA pukeThis oily, gritty, white puke is disgusting. Even a splash of it renders a cup of tea useless, carpet-bombing the subtle flavours with its crusty granular blandness. It’s the same thing Superman tastes when someone spikes his chips with kryptonite. If I saw anyone putting soya milk in my tea, when I made the next round I’d put my own little cocktail of sewer rags, iron-filings and phlegm in theirs. Then when they complained or went into seizure, I’d say, “Oh sorry, I was just following your lead by putting the most revolting substance I possibly could into your tea,” then walk out, slam the door and never return.

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I hate YouTube on TV

February 16, 2008 by

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 by

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 Mitchell and Webb (when they’re not on Peep Show)

February 10, 2008 by

Mitchell and Webb

Why is it that Mitchell and Webb are so heartbreakingly unfunny in anything other than Peep Show? I can’t even squeeze out a teeny tiny chuckle or crack even a mini half smile if I watch anything else they do on TV. As much as I want to like their other stuff, I just can’t bring myself to. What makes it worse is that I’m what you might call a massive Peep Show fan. I simply cannot get enough of it. I really do love it. I mean, what’s not to love? Nerdy, awkward, bumbling, saucer-eyed Mark with his strange endearing uptight ways and Jez with his try hard, cringy desperation and shallow naïve arrogance. They are a match made in TV heaven. They have the best on screen chemistry since Wayne and Garth. Or maybe Cagney and Lacey. Or maybe The Likely lads. Yeah that’s more like it – Mark and Jeremy are the modern day Likely Lads. Peep Show is definitely the best thing on TV. (Admittedly the last series got a little ridiculous with the dead dog but let’s not dwell on that.)

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I hate sachets

February 9, 2008 by

SachetI hate them so much that thinking about them makes me want to tear off Ronald McDonald’s head and stick it up Colonel Sanders’ ass. The Colonel would probably be into that and would just keep smiling. Anyway, sachets are the bane of my life. Everyone likes condiments – they make food taste better. Ketchup, mayonnaise, mustard. These things
are like food enhancing drugs that you want to spread liberally on every meal you eat. The last thing you want when you are starving and want to drown your processed fake burger and cardboard chips in red and white gloop is to have to struggle for five minutes ripping, tearing and biting at some pathetic little plastic rectangle that will only yield a pea-sized amount of the gear. Fuck that. I want gallons of the stuff.

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I hate dentists

February 8, 2008 by

DentistI know that this one is a bit like saying I hate murderers or I hate AIDS or I hate famine, but dentists can eat a bag of dicks. Now, I need to make it clear that I’m usually pretty good about dental hygiene. And even though I’ve started eating more sweeties since I quit smoking, I brush and mouthwash twice a day. Yesterday however, I awoke to an sharp, alien, tear-inducing pain in my mouth. It felt like a molar had exploded and was now a popped kernel of corn. I couldn’t stop tonguing it, but every touch triggered excruciating pain – like I was snogging an exposed nerve. Drinking water felt like swallowing molten lava. I clearly needed emergency treatment. So I phoned around and found a dentist to do it. She quickly assessed the damage; I had a very deep cavity and the rotting had caused a bit of tooth to break off. Despite her prognosis and the forecast of forthcoming pain, she assured me that it would be OK. When she injected the local anesthetic it didn’t hurt. I didn’t even flinch when she dug out all the shit that was clogged up in the cavity. I didn’t even feel her peg in the silver filling. But you know what did fucking hurt? The £190 bill she hit me with. Ouch.
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I hate MBT shoes

February 7, 2008 by

MBT shoe

Have you seen these grotesque eyesores? I am guessing you must have. It’s pretty much impossible to miss a pair of these monster trucks roaring around on the tootsies of every Ally McBeal, Bridget Jones or Dear Deirdre reader across the land between the hours of 9 AM and 5 PM. What are these women thinking? I mean, these things are the footwear equivalent of Anne Widdecombe (especially the open toe sandal variety).

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I hate people who talk, eat or breathe loudly

February 6, 2008 by


I hate people who need to do things very loudly. London specifically seems to be full of them and I hate all of them. The major problem seems to be people who talk on the phone loudly and for hours. Why would you have a really personal phone call about your boyfriend’s shortcomings in the bedroom on the number 8 bus at 6 PM on a Wednesday? Then, there are people who feel the need to talk loudly wherever they are because they simply like the sound of their own voice. I find it embarrassing if I’m ever with someone like this in public. Just shut up. Nobody else needs to know what you think, do or say.

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I hate self-appointed CEOs

February 5, 2008 by

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 flatmate

February 4, 2008 by


Imagine all the people that you find annoying (if you’re like me that is probably a lot of people and a lot of annoyance). I bet if you were to combine every little thing that annoys you about everyone you know or have ever met into a dense mass of hate, it would still annoy me less than my flatmate. To begin to prove this point I shall list below a mere handful of the reasons that make him the most annoying person I have ever known:

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I hate growths

February 3, 2008 by

Sarah Jessica Parker

Growths disgust me. I really can’t stand growths of any kind. They gross me out. By growths I mean warts, moles, lesions, all of that. Just writing those words made me feel slightly ill. I hate looking at them and if people have them all I can think is: why would you not get that removed or at the very least try to hide it? No wonder Sarah Jessica Parker has her chin wart Photoshopped out in (most) pictures.

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I hate long nails

February 2, 2008 by

When I was in sixth grade I cut all my nails into sharp points because I saw a photo of Glenn Danzig with his nails like that. My knife-nails, as I called them, were evil and menacing and cool, or so I thought. Thankfully, since sixth grade I’ve grown to detest long nails, be they sharpened or dull. They don’t even have to be talon-like for me to hate them; any bit of nail extending beyond the fingertip is enough to make me vomit on my dick and use the puke as lube. Actually, that’s a bit harsh. But just imagine getting a hand-job from that hand. Worse still, imagine her inserting a pinky.
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I hate my Nike iDs

February 1, 2008 by

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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