1. As an introvert, LOUD PEOPLE make my skin crawl. In particular, those A-1 personalities who talk with their CAPS LOCK on. I treasure silence, and when it’s invaded by a loud-hailer with a pathological need to dominate a room like a bad fart, I start having warped fantasies of herding your ilk into an alleyway and machine-gunning the lot of you. Okay, that’s a bit OTT, so how about we just remove your vocal chords and giggle as you try and mime your way through life like the rest of us long-suffering citizens forced to communicate with you.
2. People that pronounce ‘croissant’ as ‘kwa-sah’. Uuurghh. . . I feel sharp nails down a chalk board just writing the damn word. When I hear others uttering it I want to ram pastries into their pseudo-French gobs to silence them; then run screaming from the room with my hands over my ears. (Is it possible I harbour anger issues?) Not sure why I react like this, but I know of others that suffer from the same condition. We should form a support group.
3. Bad Packaging Syndrome. Some companies design their packaging to be a bitch to open, and I have decided that they must be doing it on purpose to spite me. Pro-vitas spring to mind. Those funny rice packets with the fold-over sticker thing are another. What should be a simple operation ends with swearing, ripped packets and broken biscuits and marriages all over the floor?
4. Self-pity. There is a certain strain of this virus common to rich people only, particularly middle-aged women who have become convinced by Glossy Magazines that all wealthy people suffer from depression – those homeless people under the bridge hiding from the rain? Oh please, those people have got it lucky, if only they knew! They start by dropping hints that they are in therapy. Then we have to endure references to their shrink, slyly introduced in a nonchalant way meant to invoke questions. And then -- Jackpot!-- some beautiful cozy pity from those friends dumb enough to lap it up – “Oh you poor brave thing. You only have two nannies? Well done for facing up to it, kudos to you”. Yuck! Pull your own damn teeth please, jump off a building. . . anything. . . just don’t torture us peasants with your delusions of suffering.
5. Weight-Loss adverts. The bane of fat people the world over, these adverts prey on an inherent human weakness: the dream of a short cut. (Fatties, I hate to break it to you, but the old-fashioned method of eating less is the only way to shed those kilos.) While one can easily point fingers at the obese, they are trapped in their own lardy prison, and perhaps we should be asking why Newspapers et al are happy to accept adverts from snake oil salesmen who’s products belong in the same bin as penis-enlargement machines, anti-aging cream and homeopathy pills.
I just wish everyone could be perfect, like me.