Room 101

You've all seen the TV programme "Room 101" where celebrities discuss their most hated things. I was inspired to write in similar vein after a visit to my local supermarket whose name, for the sake of libel action, I have changed.

Why, in the name of all that's holy, do children turn from normal, everyday monsters into shrill, devil-ridden, hyperactive maniacs whenever they go through supermarket doors? Equally, why do mothers allow them free rein to rampage amongst the poor innocent shoppers, laying waste to all in their path? What chemical imbalance is triggered the moment those doors open to admit yet another bratlet whose genes replicate those of Mongol warriors, running amok through the Steppes?

Today, as I wandered around Scummerfields, optimistically gazing at the occasional mouldering pieces of fruit and veg. on the predominantly empty shelves, my peace was shattered by the arrival of three sweet, cherubic children. Well, they seemed quite normal as they walked demurely across the square and then, Shazzam!, it happened. Screaming at the tops of their voices they hurtled up and down the aisles whilst normal folk hid desperately behind the stack of "Buy one, get one free" Transylvanian Shiraz. Their parents murmured gently to each other as they loaded their trolley with another 20,000 E numbers, totally oblivious to the shoppers hastily opening corned beef tins in a desperate attempt at suicide.

Gritting my teeth, I selected my few comestibles and hurried to the check-out, which leads me to Hate #2. I know that the cheerful greeting of the operator is totally false in supermarkets but, in this particular one, even a glance would have been appreciated. The lank-haired, pustulent retard totally ignored me whilst carrying on a conversation with another of his colleagues who stood there idly juggling packets of pork scratchings (an exotic delicacy to the average customer).

Me being me, I thanked him profusely for his attention and apologised for having interrupted his leisure time but the irony seemed lost. I always try and chat to checkout operators because it must be a thankless task but one thing that really, really gets to me is rudeness. I'm sure they do special courses in ignoring customers and my final, gleeful hope as I escaped was that, if there was any justice in the world, he would get lumbered with the children!

Right, next pet hate: women in short teeshirts that shouldn't! I mean, do I really want to see their stretch marks? If you have a belly that hangs down below your crutch, for God's sake, hide the damn thing! Usually, such people are tattooed (you can tell the posh ones because the tattoos are spelt properly) and wear dirty white stilettoes, leggings and ankle bracelets. I'm all for freedom of choice but there is a limit! See, you can tell I'm getting steamed up now by the number of exclamation marks!

BMW drivers are another one, especially old, red BMWs. If they owned the frigging road, they'd be given Deeds of Ownership but oh, do they act as if they do. Window down and 20,000 watts of bass deafening all those around, they hurtle through the streets ignoring all and sundry. Maybe they can't see because they are wearing their trendy shades and their windscreen is obscured by their "Daz and Trace" sunstrip. Just you wait until I'm Prime Minister, the crusher plants will be doing a roaring trade.

Last one now, honest.

We have Sky: something for which I am eternally grateful as I have always wanted to watch innumerable repeats of The Vicar of Dibley. However, what is going on with the shopping channels? Who on earth is going to sit there for 30 minutes watching some shrieking American audience going positively orgasmic about an electrical device which can turn normal food into a tasteless, rubbery mass? More to the point, who the hell is going to pay good money for such a gadget? Tummy trimmers, food steamers, underwear that can turn a Size 24 into an anorexic - do people actually buy these things? Is it a coincidence that they're never seen in normal shops?

I was watching a demonstrator extolling the virtues of a car polish the other day (purely in the interest of this blog) and he poured lighter fluid over a car bonnet, set fire to it and then gleefully turned to the camera. "Just look at that, it's still shiny" he exclaimed. I was immediately tempted to buy. After all, what better than, after my car has caught fire and incinerated me, the fire service gaze admiringly at the gleaming bodywork and remember it as a suitable memorial.

Mrs B. occasionally watches Create & Craft (usually in the middle of a sleepless night, when even The Vicar of Dibley has run out of steam). Why, I don't know? She is usually a woman of exemplary taste. I sit there aghast at these jolly presenters enthusing about someone demonstrating how to make a totally shite card for about 5 times the cost of buying something far better. I try to imagine the look of pride on the crafter's face as a slightly wonky card is handed over and the recipient has to mutter strangled words of gratitude. Découpage sounds really cool until you realise that it is merely sticking bits of card, really naff pictures and some totally disgusting fake gemstones in a pile and pretending it's a wonderful creation.

I love to hear the presenter praising the product and demonstrator to the skies. "Oh, wow, so that's how you use a glue stick. Amazing and only £16.99 plus another £6 post and package. How about using it with these wonderfully exciting designs, rather reminiscent of 1950s wallpaper, and these teabags?" Teabags!!! Are they mad? Apparently, teabags are pieces of paper which these craft-y people can turn into all sorts of fun things and are defined thus:

Tea bag folding uses some of the techniques of Origami combined with tiny squares of patterned paper. Once folded these squares are combined in attractive geometric patterns to form a larger design. The art of tea bag folding is said to have been born when a clever Dutch crafter decided to work with the decorative envelopes used to hold fruit tea bags. As the craft developed specially printed sheets have been produced with patterned squares ready to cut out and fold.

Gosh, no wonder they all look so excited!

Oh, for a Room 101. Not that I am getting old and crotchety, I just like what I like. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to cook myself a full 6 course meal in only 5 minutes on my Whizz-O-Matic griddle - a miracle of modern science and worth every penny of the personal loan I took out to buy it. One of these days, it's going to work properly.........it looked so easy on the shopping channel.