Things I think the world can do without

There are a few things in life which I am fiercely against. I’m not talking about sexist or racist people or those who are wilfully cruel. I mean, I *am* against the philosophies and banging ons of any such fucknut, but I’m not talking about that in this post. Today I am taking the opportunity to wang on about smaller, but still really quite important, things. And I’m doing it because my ‘friends’ have intimated that I am weird, which is very far from the truth; rather I am informed, and they have yet to learn.

Bananas

Yes. Bananas. Fuck awful invention of the natural world. There are many smells and textures involved in the banana and not one of them is agreeable. Their waxy skin, that sound when they open, the furry outside layer and the smell. Oh God. The smell. If you ever have to bite into a banana (and I truly hope you don’t) you will discover the terrible slime within. The slime within should be banned by someone important, like maybe the Prime Minister.

I can smell a banana at a hundred paces. Seriously. I’ve had to reassess my position on a bus to avoid the stench. Once my (then) boss hid a banana in my trainer. How we roared at the hilarious joke. What a funny bastard. No.

Bono.

Pigeons

Nasty, dirty, shitting, cack-clawed, diseased little critters. I hate the Skyrat. I hate it when they fly low and towards my face. I hate the weird shrieky noise I make when that happens. And, and, I was informed by a very nearly reliable source that if you breathe in pigeon breath then YOU DIE. This is a tremendously stressful piece of knowledge when you live in London and have to walk through Trafalgar Square.

Parsley

Why must parsley be sprinkled everywhere? We’re not in the fucking eighties now, people; we’ve diversified in the garnish arena. And, anyway, it doesn’t make *anything* taste better. Parsley tastes like blood. This is a fact, and my final word on the subject.

Bono.

The sound of people eating cereal

I know it’s ridiculous but it’s such a blot on the landscape of all things manageable. It turns my stomach and while I do realise that there’s very little a person can do about the sound they make when they eat cereal, you *could* leave the table and sit in the cupboard under the stairs. Or at the end of the garden; you could chew elsewhere.

Oh and, as an aside, people who eat with their mouth open should be shot. Dead. No discussion.

Slow walking people

Slow walking people on the streets of London or on the tube or meandering off my train in the morning. All of you. You’re first against the wall. Especially if you think it fit to tug a small suitcase on wheels through the rush hour. I wouldn’t mind the slowness if these same people didn’t also manage to dither from left to right, owning the entire pavement/room/staircase with their pointless wavering. Stick to one side. And don’t even think about walking the escalator unless you can give it some real beans. I fantasise about pushing you. One day I will.

Bono.

Mr Bean.

Bono.

Sultanas in salads

Ridiculous, ridiculous idea. I wanted to find a visual representation of this sentiment but YouTube don’t have the clip of Terri Coverley telling Malcolm Tucker that he doesn’t fit. Instead I’ve pasted in some of his sweary brilliance because, unlike the rest,  I think this is a very good thing to have in the world indeed:

And that’s it: the wasted meanderings of my frazzled brain. I bet some of you like bananas, don’t you? Maniacs.