My Room 101 (Room 101)

Member Name: johnbutt

Product:	Room 101
Date:	14/07/06 (246 review reads)
Rating:

Advantages: Gets rid of life's annoyances

Disadvantages: There's nothing left

I'm afraid my room 101 wouldn't be anywhere near big enough to fit all of my gripes and things that p*** me off, a giant warehouse..possibly.

1) Sorry to be unoriginal, but call-centres have got to go in there before anything else. I can't envisage anything that would approach the annoyance factor of these places. I get a nasty letter from my bank, so nasty that there's steam coming out of my ears before I pick the phone up. I dial, and a bloody pre-recorded voice goes through what seems to be five thousand options. Trying to breath deeply and control my rising blood pressure, I select an option, only to go through the same crap all over again.
If my body was a car engine, I'd have blown a cylinder-head gasket by now, especially when I arrive at the correct option and they put me in a queue, and start to play Mozart to me!
By now I want to kill somebody (or myself) when a human-being suddenly answers the phone. For a moment my heart soars with the sheer relief of hearing a real voice, but this is short-lived as the realisation hits me that I've been connected to one of the extras from "It ain't half hot mum".
Please believe me, I'm not being racist, but I need to speak to somebody I can understand, and this guy sounds like Peter Sellers doing "Boom diddy boom". I attempt to explain my overdraft, and the poor guy isn't getting it. My bank is in Birkenhead, not Bombay, and I've got to hang up before I do myself an injury. If I could get my hands on the bastard who dreamt this one up...........

2) My next choice involves the great identiity card debate. If I hear one more person say "If you've got nothing to hide, you've got nothing to worry about". These idiots belong in the deepest dankest dungeon (try saying that when you're pissed) on the planet Earth, never mind room 101.
It has nothing to do with me having something to hide. I want you, and everyone else to mind their own f****** business. This is my bloody life, and if I choose to hide something, that's up to me..you look after your own sad existence, and stick your poxy piece of plastic where the sun don't shine.

3) Having got that off my chest, (I do feel better) my number three choice has to be female receptionists at the doctors. Where do they recruit these bitches? I don't feel too good so I ring the surgery, and the conversation goes something like this: "I'd like to make an appointment to see the doctor please". "Is the appointment for you?" (No, it's for my cat, I think it has fur-balls) "Yes". Then comes the killer, "Is it serious?". HOW THE F*** DO I KNOW? THAT'S WHY I WANT TO SEE A DOCTOR. These harpies seem to have one mission in life..to create an impassable chasm between me and the person who might save my life when I'm ill. "Well I don't know". There's an audible grunt on the end of the line, "Well the next available appointment is a week on Thursday, the doctor's very busy". I can only assume that there's been an outbreak of bubonic plague on the Woodlands housing estate, and my little problem fades into insignificance. Dejected, I trudge to the nearest chemists, too knackered to argue, remembering Spike Milligan's gravestone on which was etched, "I told you I was sick".

4)Having written my first three nominations for room 101, I have suddenly realised that I want to put everyone and everything in there, because it's all crap. As a balding middle-aged sad old git I see the world through shit-tinted spectacles, and everything..yes, I mean everything, annoys me, from getting up in the morning to going to bed at night...roll on death. On the subject of death, I f***** hate undertakers........

Summary: Life is just a bowl of cherries (and they've all gone bad)