- Those Live Chat dating ads. Yes, of course the chick you are talking to is 5’11” with a generous bosom and long blonde flowing hair. Yes, the guy you are talking to has ripped abs and minty fresh breath and carefully tousled hair. Why, what else could s/he possibly be like?
- When old ladies elbow you out of the way to get on the bus and then crowd right around the front, wielding umbrellas (for rain or for shine) and bundle buggies. Clearly you deserve respect because you are old and so well behaved.
- Teenagers who shriek loudly in groups. I really want to hear your stories about your friend who got puked on and who peed herself in public. Really I do. Preferably at top volume, please, right in my ear. Thank you.
- Oh Telemarketers, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways… Please make sure you call at 8pm. And don’t bother to talk to me in person, just play a recording. That would be very helpful.
- When they play the same ad twice in a row on TV. You know, I really didn’t get it the first time becasue the message was too subtle and I am not that clever. Next time, could you play the ad again? Especially if it is a political ad for the Conservatives or the grovelling GMC ad. I like those, a lot.
- Not breathing on the bus. Could you arrange it so a large, drunk sweaty man with seven black bags full of old beer cans can wedge up against me every time? And then close ALL the windows. Actually, can you also get a woman with extra volumes of perfume to wedge in on the other side? That would be perfect.
- Coronation Street.
- Lack-of-personal-boundary-people – you’re awesome. Especially at the grocery store or at the bank. It makes me feel so at ease. Preferably could you breath a little harder into my neck and suck your dentures at the same time?
- Oh you smokers. How do you know I love a good round of second hand smoke when I’m sitting out on the patio having my coffee? I owe you big time.
- And finally, when you ask me if I’m Australian, it fills me with such joy. Especially if you ask me if I’m British, after I tell you I’m actually South African. It’s ok if you ignore my 4th generation South African roots, I really don’t mind. I mean, I’m practically a British citizen, aren’t I?