Clarkson has a point...

So across the UK, teachers (and other professions) went on strike on Wednesday over pensions and pay. Is this not a little immature? England is just a complaining kind of place. I love a bit of pessimism as much as the next man, but when unemployment figures are at an all time high, feel happy that you have a job, especially when it pays into a pension plan for you! If you are not happy with the rate of pay into your pension plan, pay more into it personally.

'I don't get what I want, so I'm going to throw the toys out of the pram'.

Is that really the way for teachers to gain respect? In lots of areas where teachers are considered the 'enemy' and that they don't do enough for the children in the class, do you really want to give them more ammunition?

Personally I love teaching, I love working with kids and the pay is just a nice biproduct of the job. I want to teach because I care, not because I want to be rich or even just be well payed, but because I love it! If I wanted to earn a huge wage and have a lavish pension I would look for a job where I could achieve that. I'm not saying teachers are not aspirational, but if your aspirations are wealth related, is teaching really the job for you?

In the future I'm quite sure I'll never strike. I'm employed by a school to teach, and that is what I will do. Clarkson has a point, it's my personal opinion (and I know money is important in this world), but these strikers need to get their priorities sorted.

The Aldi/Lidl Fiasco

I think you know me well enough by now to expect me to complain about almost anything. Today is no exception.

First of all if you are thinking ‘why are you talking about Aldi and Lidl instead of keeping to your pre-prepared list’, well I have gone ‘off piste’ so to speak because I hate lists more than I hate anything on my list. If you now are thinking why did I not include ‘lists’ on my list of hate, that is because it would make a paradox and could end life as we know it. Thinking about it this may be a blessing, considering the topic of hate-versation (conversation of hate) today.

Context: After work today I foolishly decided to go to stop off for a quick shop at Aldi, since I only held shrapnel in my pocket, knowing that the co-op was now well out of my price range, but also knowing I needed a meal before watching the mighty Ipswich Town later on tonight.

Has anybody else noticed that it looks like the warehouse you’d find behind most other supermarkets? Oh and that term ‘super market’, since Aldi is crap (more crap than a regular market) I urge you to refer to it as a crapper market. Anyway, everything in this place is piled high and looks like the dragons den graveyard, where all the unsuccessful and cheaply made products fell by the wayside as Kellogs, Walkers and Cadburys burst through into the mainstream. I saw Dixons cream crackers? Did Jacobs remarry? Or has some wanker called Dixon just ruined a decent long running business by selling a cheaper and entirely less enjoyable substitute? Not only is this place the graveyard of products that never ‘made it’, but also it is the place where the old ranges of big brand products lay to rest, like a bag of assorted Jif scouring pads. Poor old Jif. The new bastard Cif comes along because people from Eastern Europe can’t say Jif. I’m sorry, but there are bigger problems than a dirty kitchen if you can’t even say Jif! Now I completely understand that some people can’t afford the top brands of things from actual supermarkets, but why not just buy Sainsbury’s basics? A good size shower gel for 15p is far greater value than 60p for McThompsonberrytonwilliamsalexanderson and sons lemon scented body wash.

It’s not just the goods (or bads) on sale that bothers me, but just the feeling of the place. The bloke in front of me in was buying a gallon of whiskey! That’s right, a gallon! Roughly four litres! Either he’s planning a big post-lent piss up, or an expensive suicide attempt! He was just one member of the shopping community today. Another was a woman who was still wearing her pyjamas. I went in at roughly half past 5. Firstly why was she in her pyjamas at that time, secondly why does she even own pyjamas reading ‘tease me’ across the front (seeing as she was mid 50’s, with knotted hair, crooked and black teeth and a badly running nose) and most importantly why was she shopping in her fucking pyjamas anyway! I can only think that she doesn’t own a washing machine and needs to buy new clothes every day and pyjamas are cheaper than regular clothes.

Aside from all these factors, the staff look like extras from Shaun Of The Dead and go about their working lives with similar vigour. When at the counter I had noticed that I had bought more than I had anticipated, therefore needing three bags instead of the one I had brought with me. So I bought a couple of bags and proceeded with caution. The drone behind the counter scanned my food through so quickly that it gave me no time to pack everything into the bags, so taking my time I packed everything in and was met with disapproving glares from Mr Whiskey and Little Miss Pyjamas.

I realise I haven’t touched on Lidl in this wonderful written evaluation, but as far as I’m aware the same applies.

Thanks for reading.

Lemons

Now I realise that it has been quite a long time since I last posted a rant, but I’m going to be honest, I don’t care. And since nobody actually plans their life around reading this crap, I’m going to assume that I won’t receive too many complaints.

I would also like to say that it doesn’t concern me that the article containing the details of my hatred of Owen Johnston hasn’t been written. It turns out that I don’t hate him, though he does wind me up more than almost any person alive.

So with the ice well and truly broken, melted and soaked into the metaphorical carpet of our writer/reader relationship, I feel ready to crack on with Lemons.

First of all, some interesting facts about lemons:

1.      Lemons are yellow
2.      Lemons are a type of fruit
3.      Lemons are a yellow fruit
4.      Lemons make me ill
5.      I don’t like lemons

As points 4 and 5 explain, lemons don’t agree with me. I must have been maybe nine or ten years of age, I walked down the stairs to find a sponge cake in the kitchen. In the infantile manner that I still to this day live my life, I ate a whole square of the cake in one mouthful.  A few minutes pass and I deposit a sizable amount of my bodily fluid from the top bunk of my bed (sick, not wee or runny poo). Interestingly I have never owned a bunk bed, so maybe my memory of the event has been tampered with. But details aside, it was not a plain sponge cake, but then I think you had probably come to that conclusion already.

That is pretty much my reason for not liking lemon.

With this in mind it is fairly disappointing that lemon flavoured stuff is everywhere. Wine gums, Jelly Babies, Starburst, those little disposable hand towel things you get in packets, air fresheners and more. 

Jamie Oliver.

Bastard.

Has anyone seen ‘Jamie’s 30 minute meals’? This program bothers me. Aside from the fact that the meals only take 30 minutes because he is an experienced chef, who possesses impeccable knife skills, has a blender/cheese grater machine that cuts stuff really quickly (which will almost certainly cost a bomb) and he has all the ingredients prepared and ready in front of him.  Jamie ‘fuck face’ Oliver puts lemon in everything! Every salad dressing is lemon and olive oil, every pasta has lemon juice and zest in (but why both?) and every pudding has lemon in. 

This was fun.  

#4. Trains

Being a student who didn’t possess a car, I happened to use the train an awful lot over my time at university. Because of this regular travel on our nation’s trains I have seen it all. From Fiona Bruce on the platform (the most attractive news broadcaster since Michael Fish), to a man trying to brake into a vending machine, to a dog shit on a chair. These examples though are all of the positive experiences I have had on mass transit (though the dog’s turd was rank).

First, and most obvious, the price: £120 for a return to London at peak time? What the fuck?! For that you could price you can fly to Zurich (I have checked, I don’t just know this). I went to university in Lincoln and a one way ticket there can cost you up to £40. It is a 3 hour journey, why such a high price? Is it the high level of service you receive, with rude staff in the ticket office, the even grumpier staff on the platform or the bewilderingly dry ticket taker guy on the train? Or is it the high standards in the train itself, when you are not always guaranteed a seat, a complete lack of luggage racks or that the train itself is always either far too hot or far too cold? Quite simply where does all the money you pay go?

I remember a day some years ago, I can’t have been any older than 10, when my mother, father, brother and I met some close family friends (who actually first introduced my parents to each other) in Wales. I remember having a lovely picnic, then going on an old fashioned steam train. We were sat in one of the small compartments of the carriage, watching the world go by, and it is actually one of my fondest memories. If steam trains were still widely in operation I don’t think I’d mind the long journeys at a high price, as there is a lot of charm in this form of travel. This charm has completely disappeared though due to the technological advances (of sorts) in train travel. All of the excitement has been replaced by mind numbing boredom, bad smells and noise.

Noise. What a wanker. The train is too loud to hear the music you are trying to occupy yourself with, to stop the tedious journey from taking its toll, and yet if you turn the volume up the stranger sat next to you asks you politely to turn it down. Turn it down? I still can’t hear it, how can you?

The quiet carriage: I fully understand that some travellers (by which I do not mean gypsies) wouldn’t want to listen to the constant stories and squeals from the group of girls at the end of your carriage (though I find listening to their trauma quite therapeutic), and others may have work to do, but lets face it your not going to get too much done whilst bouncing around the uneven tracks of Norfolk (take that Norfolk). And this carriages is everything but quiet at its quietest. The driver on the tannoy (public address system) shouting out the names of all the village stations you’ve never heard of while no one gets on or off, then the streams of people flooding through to get to the watering hole (food carriage thingy (I was just enjoying the water theme)).

What never I understand is why they organise trains by such precise times. The 13:41 to Matlock. Everyone knows that it will arrive late then leave late due to a signal failure, so why get my hopes up that I will actually be able to catch my next train when you already know that there is no chance. Surely it would be better to just say the 13:41ish to Matlock. Do you know the main cause of a train arriving late? It’s because it is shit, slow and made from an old Austin Maxi. Why is it that your train, the train you will be spending a good 4 hours on is always old and slow? Then you are passed constantly by other trains travelling at 400mph that are able to run smoothly without nearly falling over at every turn.

Now that I have discussed (or just told you) some of my views on trains, I will take a little break from my rage and just talk about my average journey. Let’s just say I’m making a trip up to Birmingham to see my brother. I won’t talk to you about changing trains etc as this is rather trivial unless you are planning a trip to Birmingham. I arrive at Ipswich station, knowing that I have a good 4 hours of ‘me’ time ahead. Now if it were just me on the train it would be fine, but most people annoy the hell out of me, so this isn’t a great start. Anyway I’m sat on my first train. I’ve decided not to use my ipod straight away as it will be an invaluable tool later on, so I try to just sit and be peaceful. This doesn’t work however as I am not a peaceful person so I try to listen to the conversations of those around me. Thankfully my first train doesn’t take too long as I am already bored rigid. So I arrive at my first change and I panic. There is an Upper Crust. I love a good baguette, but these are fairly simple but still expensive. I buy the cheapest one available, a bag of crisps and a chocolate bar and intend to use these tools to quell my boredom. This works for twenty or minutes but then I’m right back to the same problem. Uncontrollably I dive into my ipod and start to swim through songs (water theme again, I couldn’t resist). I’m then told to turn the volume down, as already covered, so I’m back to the same problem. After far too long being utterly brain dead sat on my aluminium mobile prison I arrive into Birmingham. At which point I then realise that Birmingham is no better than where I have come from.

…..

Now I feel I should say that some years ago with some close friends, I enjoyed the only real benefit of a train (apart from unlimited travel). A small group of us were on a long journey to Somerset, which passed through London. We joined the underground at

Liverpool Street

, changed at Bank, headed for Waterloo. For a 15 minute period having left Bank we were completely alone in our carriage, and thought it to be our duty to climb from one end of the carriage to the other without touching the floor. It was a lot of fun and eclipsed the 2 hour wait we had Waterloo before our final train.

I am very, very sorry for rambling on for so long about trains, but, put simply, they are shit (unless due to low demand you find yourself alone).

Sweet dreams.

#3. Photography

Now that I am well in to the swing of things with my archive of aggravation, it isn’t critical to outline its purpose, so I will dive straight into this one.


I find photography in all social contexts, to be the most uncomfortable experience I can think of. The phrase (or word) ‘smile’ is one of the most astonishing parts of the entire ordeal. If you were genuinely happy, there would be no reason to utter the word before taking the picture, so therefore society is asking you to lie about the fact that you are having a rotten time, but showing the world your ‘cheesy grin’.


Why at all notable occasions must there be a ‘photo opportunity’? Has mankind become so lazy that we can not use our brains to remember the good times we have had? And what about the times you’d really rather forget? Someone, unknown to you, has taken a picture at the very second you throw up on a table in a bar (Dave Webb).


My problem with photography is that I look terrible in 9/10 pictures taken of me. You may think it is cliché, but I genuinely do have ‘a good side’, where you cant see the spots on my neck, the way my hair curls at the fringe, and you cant see the confusing spongy shape of my nose (this being said, some women still find me moderately attractive so I’m not exactly Adrian Chiles). The point of how bad I look in pictures was for all to see on my graduation day. I made the mistake of not blocking the right side of my face at all times, that teamed with my poor fake smile means that I wont be setting my eyes on these pictures for some time now.

                                         But here is your chance to.

Not good at all.

I have to be honest with you in saying that I actually enjoy a lot of photography (all that doesn’t include me), whether wildlife, sunsets, pornographic images, porn or porn. I also think that anybody who possesses a talent in photography has done very well for themselves (as they have at least one more talent than me).


But quite simply, don’t point your camera at me, don’t complain if I duck, move or obstruct the line of fire with something, and don’t be offended by the inevitability of me telling you to ‘go away’ (or maybe in a more abrupt and rude manor, possibly accompanied with a simple gesture and a smile).


Next instalment on trains to follow (by which I do not mean walking/running behind a train).


Sweet dreams.

Admin

Before I continue my series of things I hate, there are a few things I need to address.


Item a: I would like to inform whoever reads this, that my background is supposed to be ironic, this was not picked up by one reader.


Item b: My aim is not to offend anyone, simply to vocalise my disliking of different things. If you don't like what you're reading, don't read it.


To continue this brief stint of information, here is a list, for anyone who cares, of all of my future articles. They are not in order of hatred, just the order I thought of them in. The first two have already been covered.


1. Dancing
2. Adrian Chiles
3. Photography
4. Trains
5. Owen Johnston
6. Lemons
7. Glasses
8. 'Pop music'
9. iPhones
10. Sports wear
11. Make-up
12. Wine
13. Queen
14. Maths
15. Alarm clocks
16. The Gym
17. Rodents
18. Xbox live
19. Superstition
20. Twitter
21. Aging
22. Inconsideration
23. Rules
24. Facial hair
25. Technology


I know that some of you will disagree with some of my choices, but thankfully this is not North Korea and i am allowed my own opinion.


Sweet dreams.

#2. Adrian Chiles

Hopefully you are starting to understand the premise of this blog. If not, here is another outline. I get annoyed easily and many, many things frustrate me. Writing this blog is more an act of therapy for me, than it is interesting reading for you. However, you are reading now, so what the hell! Read on!

As the title suggests, my second instalment will be discussing the cons and cons of Adrian Chiles. Now before anybody tells me I’m being harsh, I will hold my hands up and say that he has done a superb job in getting on to the telly, especially considering he has no form of talent to speak of. The Director of Television at ITV, Peter Fincham, said recently-

    “Adrian is a brilliant presenter, journalist and a football fanatic – I’m very much looking forward to working with him again when he joins ITV. He has the rare talent of being able to make television presenting look effortless. He will be at home at ITV whether it is on our flagship breakfast programme or in the football studio.”

……

He has a rare talent of making television presenting look effortless. I think its more a case that he isn’t putting any effort in.

Now, his new home ITV, don’t get me started on them. It’s a good job that ITV is not funded by the government, like the BBC, as I am sure with the new budget, they would be the first to go. Chiles steps into the job previously held by Des Lynam. Well that’s a kick in the face for old Des, isn’t it! ITV’s football coverage has always been crap, with the likes of Andy Townsend and Robbie Earle adding very little to rival Hanson and Lawrenson. Then there are the adverts. Every five minutes they cut to an ad break to avoid highlighting that none of them have any idea of what they should say.

Has anybody else noticed how every program he presented has drastically improved now that Adrian has left the BBC? Colin Murray who is actually likeable with his funny glasses and accent, brings some passion back to the program as Lee Dixon inevitably saps it out; Jason Manford and Chris Evans on the One Show, who have both made me like the program. Before I wouldn’t be seen dead watching it, but now I watch every night; and finally, and in my mind most significantly, The Apprentice: You’re Fired, now presented by Dara O’Briain, one of the best comedians around. For these changes I would like to thank Adrian, without whom, this would never have been possible.

I’m sorry if you were expecting more from this blog, (detail, explanation, analysis etc) but as the old saying goes: ‘a picture paints a thousand words’, so here we are. Is this the face of a talented TV presenter?

No. It's the face of a troll.

Sweet dreams.