A new series of Room 101 has started on BBC1, a show where famous people can banish things those things that annoy, irritate or simply horrify them so that the human race never has to see or experience them ever again.
I have written two previous posts in a similar vein and so far have expelled twenty items,into that dark gruesome place including one or two people.
Now it’s time for ten more horrors to be cast into that room.
Psychic mediums, or charlatans as I prefer to call them, are basically con artists who prey on the vulnerability of people desperately struggling to cope with the loss of a loved one. I wouldn’t mind if there is any truth in what they claim.
There isn’t - and to me it looks like The Emperor's New Clothes. Nobody can see it.
Just look at this pile of crap and then dare to disagree with me.
Derek Acorah – please lead your fellow charlatans into Room 101.
When somebody knocks on my door, I feel a surge of dread. Many people hope for a friend or a postman bringing a parcel or something equally pleasant. Sadly, most of the time it is a door to door salesman, somebody trying to shame me into giving yet more money to charity, a Jehovah’s Witness, somebody trying to persuade me to change my electricity supplier, a bunch of trick or treaters, a load of carol singers or, worst of all, a politician canvassing for my vote.
The last doorstep pain in the arse was a Liberal Democrat party activist asking me what I thought about his party and whether or not I would be voting for his boss, the local Member of Parliament. I live in a marginal constituency and am therefore a prime target for these buggers. I told him what I tell them all:
“No! I don’t want to vote for your boss or your party. Goodbye!”
Good riddance to all of them.
McDonalds really irritates me, because they are ubiquitous and have been for seemingly decades. Worse, the burgers are unpleasant and don’t look anything like the pictures you see at the counter.
Worse still, the food is horrifically unhealthy, as proven by the movie Supersize Me.
Worse, still, I have had to explain to my kids again why we are having a healthy meal instead of visiting the McDonalds that was over the road from where I used to live.
Worse still, they are trying to change their image by selling salads as if they now realise that they are contributing to the massive obesity epidemic in America and Europe. A
And the crowning turd in the toilet?
THAT BLOOD JINGLE!
“I’m Lovin’ It”?
“I’M BLOODY HATIN’ IT!”
Into Room 1010 you go.
Clive Tyldesley and Andy Townsend
Foreign readers will not know who these jokers are. Let me introduce you to them.
Clive Tyldesley is a football commentator on ITV. He has the most irritating voice in Great Britain. His football knowledge is zero. His jokes are totally unfunny. He is obsessed with his own ridiculous opinions.
Andy Townsend is an ex-footballer who is Clive Tyldesley’s sidekick – or as I prefer to call him – partner in crime, the crime being ruining my enjoyment of the game with their inane, pointless banter, flawed opinions and irritating voices.
These two men make me think twice about watching football. Usually I turn the volume down – it’s better that way.
Begone – the pair of you!
A friend of mine who is into hip hop tried to explain the culture behind his music. And it was extremely and gave me a fresh insight into the main artists, the music and the philosophy behind it.
But I have to stay – rapping ruins songs – and I still hate it.
I’m sorry to any readers who love to “spit lyrics” and effectively just talk their way to musical stardom but I just don’t get it – and I never will. Now while I am fine leaving rap lovers to their own genre, what I really hate is when it invades other musical styles – in particular rock music.
I blame Aerosmith. I love Aerosmith by the way but I hate this song because of the rapping:
If rapping goes into Room 101 then it will no longer invade the music I love.
If I ever lose my job, and find myself faced with a life without work, the last job I would look for is that of a Traffic Warden. These people are universally hated and spend their time strolling around town centres, scrutinising parked cars to see if they are violating any parking regulations. It seems to me that when you enrol to be a Traffic Warden, you have to learn to adopt the grim face of a jumped-up jobsworth. You have to have the gene that shows mercy surgically removed from your body and master the art of a smug smile when you hand over a parking ticket to a little old lady.
Begone you evil subclass of humanity and let me park in peace.
If you have never heard of Katie Price, or Jordan as she is also known, let me tell you about her.
She is a topless glamour model, an author, a reality TV star, a singer and a producer of a range of lingerie and beauty products as well as perfume. She has even tried to be elected as a member of parliament here in Manchester. Her manifesto was “free plastic surgery for all”.
Basically she is an ex tabloid topless model with big boobs who has used her fame and figure to irritate everybody in the UK (and probably beyond) and corrupted a load of young girls who want to be just like her. Her novels are ghosted and her music is awful. She tried to represent Great Britain in the Eurovision Song Contest and failed miserably – she is that bad.
Here she is “singing”:
Go away! Just GO AWAY!!
Eurovision Song Contest
Talking of Eurovision, this joke of a contest that has been around for decades should be cast into Room 101 immediately. Basically what happens is every country in Europe, ours included, writes a song and they all go up against each other in a contest that is broadcast all over Europe on a Saturday night. The winner is the song with the most votes as voted for by each country.
The contest in the past has had good moments; Abba suddenly found themselves thrust into the limelight in the 1970s with Waterloo.
Now, however, it is a total joke. The music and performances, ours included, are shit. The voting is equally contrived with countries only voting for their mates.
Take a look at this – if you like it then you belong is Room 101 too.
We are suffering at the moment because of something called the jet stream which has altered its position, causing Mother Nature to dump the Atlantic Ocean over our entire country. The entire south of England is underwater – and has been for two months.
This happens a lot and it doesn’t matter what time of year it is.
I am sick of it. Please let us have some sunshine.
On my travels I have encountered many taxi drivers. Most of them are okay (although they charge the earth to get me from A to B) but some have been terrible. Here are the worst offenders:
The taxi driver at Manchester Airport who was happy to let me into his cab after I had returned, jet lagged, from Toronto and then, when I told him that I only wanted to go 5 miles instead of 35 miles he accused me of queue jumping, threw my suitcase out of the cab and told me to piss off. I reported him – I hope you got the sack!
The Chinese taxi driver who took us to the wrong hotel in Chongqing having almost killed us on the motorway by driving for about a minute with no hands on the wheel and looking back at us as he tried to double the price we had agreed at the airport.
The New York taxi driver who was Romanian and tried to convince me that he had played for Tottenham Hotspur – in the hope that I would give him a massive tip.
The South African taxi driver who diverted off the motorway to show me a Township and then demanded a tip at the airport.
Into Room 101 you go – and let the good taxi drivers prevail.
Do you agree with my choices dear reader?