Room One O Wonderful (Room 101)

Member Name: Shazzy

Product:	Room 101
Date:	21/03/02 (71 review reads)
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Ok, I know this is the grouchy area. We’re supposed to sound off about the things we would like to see stuffed away somewhere, never again to see the light of day, and that’s fair enough. We all like a good grouch now and then. But I know what grouching can do to me. It turns me into a miserable old bat, so instead of just chucking some nasties into room 101, for every grouch I’m going to find something to put into room One O Wonderful. Something I love and wouldn’t change for the world. Is that against the rules? If it is, I’m sorry… I just didn’t feel like being too grouchy today.

Now we’ve got that clear, let’s get going.


:-( LAGER LOUTS

Are these people peculiar to the UK? I’ve seen more than enough of them here, and whenever I’ve seen them abroad, they’re almost always Brits. They’re particularly easy to spot in places like Majorca and other Mediterranean tourist machines, usually sporting a pair of jeans or baggy shorts teamed with one of those nylon looking sports shirt things (the v-neck variety being the most popular) that make me cringe with thoughts of static shocks and hair that stands on end when you take them off. Maybe they’re not as bad as all that, the shirts that is, but I wouldn’t like to find out.

Lager Louts fight a lot. They pick on people for absurd reasons and are the main cause of bloody noses at around chucking out time. Those who aren’t fighting can generally be found regurgitating a hamburger or chicken balti in public places. The middle of the pavement is usually a popular spot. To give them their due, they do generally try to aim for the inside edge of the pavement. You can tell by the way they support themselves with one arm against the wall.

Anyway, these people should be wiped from existence immediately. Locked in Room 101 for the remains of eternity (can eternity have any remains?
).
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:-) UNIFORMS

Oooh… how am I going to write this without getting myself flustered? Uniforms do something for me. Come on ladies, you know where I’m coming from here, don’t you? Think Richard Gere in “An Officer and A Gentleman”, or Robert Carlyle in “The Full Monty”. Get my drift? There’s just something about a good-looking bloke in a uniform that makes my toes curl. Even ticket or toll collectors can look amazing in their uniforms. Some look amazing anyway, but the uniform definitely adds that extra little something. There’s a paradox here though. If I think a bloke looks so damned good in his uniform, why do I want to rip it off him? Just one of life’s little mysterys I expect.


:-( BULLIES

Anybody who picks on somebody weaker than themselves. School bullies, workplace bullies, those who bully their partners and even worse, those who bully their children. Loathsome creatures! I mean, take Mr Mafia Big Boss. Would he be so tough if he didn’t have his lackeys running around doing the dirty work for him? Get him on his own down some dark alley and I bet he’d shake in his boots. Probably make puddles in them too. Osama bin Laden wouldn’t be so tough if he suddenly found himself alone in one of our inner cities either, would he? No if anybody who looked remotely confident starting picking a fight, he’d bottle it. Anybody can appear big and strong with a weapon or an army of soldiers (even if the “army” is just their mates at school) behind them, but as far as I’m concerned, the world has no place for those who feel the need to intimidate others and they can all rot in Room 101.


:-) PARK BENCHES

I love ‘em. What would the world be without a nice park bench on which to plant your bot whilst watching the world go by? Wander through any park on a warm, summer’s day and ju
st look at how they’re used.

Young ladies quietly reading their books; old men puffing away on their pipes, watching the world go by; couples enjoying the closeness that can only be found in quiet togetherness; and youngsters messing about, flirting and having fun. The last group sometimes get a bit naughty, and do things like carve their initials in the bench, but I don’t mind too much. There’s something romantic about coming across “Liz loves Derek” in the back of bench, carved years before, while Liz and Derek were young lovers. Who knows, maybe they still come back and sit on “their” bench.

Some youngsters might go to extremes and smash the bench to smithereens, but in that case, they’ll just have to be banished to Room 101 along with Osama and his crew. Otherwise, leave them be. We’re all entitled to enjoy park benches in our own particular ways.


:-( MUTTON DRESSED AS LAMB

I’m sorry, but very few women can actually pull it off. If you’re twice as old as the age you’re trying to emulate, all you’re going to do is make it even more obvious to the world that you’re well and truly past your sell by date. Very short skirts look good on a lithe 20-year old; on a somewhat sagging 40-year old they look down right tacky. Ok, maybe you’re one of those who can pull it off with style, but let’s face it, most who try look nothing short of ridiculous. The same goes for belly-button bars. They belong to youth. I don’t care if your belly is still flat, there’s a time and a place for everything and I’m afraid, if you’ve passed 30, your time for navel embellishment has flown. Grow old disgracefully, by all means, but please, have some refinement with it.

Older women can look stunning. We don’t have to desperately hold on to our youths to turn a head or two. It’s about style, dahling… if y
ou’ve got style, you’ve got what it takes regardless of age. And don’t let the youngsters tell you any different.

Mutton women make me cringe. I don’t like anything that makes me cringe so I’m sending them to Room 101 to join the lager louts. (Ok, so maybe I’m just jealous of those who CAN pull it off).


:-) TEXT MESSAGES

Ha ha. I bet a lot of you are disagreeing with me there! Well I love ‘em. Lord only knows how I ever managed without a mobile phone. I very rarely make a call on mine, but boy do I send a lot of text messages! They’re a great way of staying in touch when you don’t want to spend ages nattering on the phone. Or can’t. I can text the kids from the supermarket and ask them whether they want ham and mushroom or pepperoni on their pizza; I can text my friends to tell them I’m running late (which they usually guess anyway, because I’m always running late), and when I’m forced to be apart from the one person I really want to be with, I can text him just to say…. no, I’m not telling you what I’d say. That’s private.

I think they’re a super-duper snazzy way of keeping in touch and if my phone going “beep-beep” bothers anybody, I’m afraid they’re just going to have to live with it. SMS is here to stay.


:-( DELIBERATE IGNORANCE

Ok, I know we all fear the unknown to a certain extent. When faced with something we have absolutely no experience of, we simply don’t know for certain how to tackle it or what to expect. That’s fair enough. But when people’s feeling are involved, shouldn’t we at least try to show some decorum?

My son’s mentally handicapped. As a result, he doesn’t act in the way that’s the expected norm. He’s not a bad boy, but he does tend to get confused and doesn’t always stop to think of
the consequences. He looks slightly “different” too.

I’m sick and tired of people who blatantly stare at him, point and ridicule. It’s nasty and mean! And they do, you know. Even in this day and age, where special needs people are no longer locked away and shunned by society, a lot of people still have difficulty coming to terms with those who are different. I can understand a certain err.. discomfort (for the want of a better word), but do they really need to make it so damned obvious?

The same goes for those who make hasty conclusions based on colour, body size or dialect. All black people aren’t scroungers. All fat people aren’t thick. All cockneys don’t eat jellied-bleedin’-eels.

Those who are happy to remain ignorant can get their backsides along to Room 101 and enjoy the company of the equally ignorant lager louts. Now!


:-) PIZZA

I could live off it. I LOVE PIZZA!!! Can’t get enough of it. Nothing else even comes close. Ply me with pizza and I’m a pushover.

Morrisons do nice pizzas. Pizza Express do pretty good ones too. Anthony’s Chippie in Partington does the best pizza in the world. I even make my own, which is going some. I really don’t like cooking but I’ll happily make a pizza, simply because I’ll get to eat it. I’ll even get to eat lots of it, because I always make several with really thick bases and looooads of topping.

I’d be very unhappy if I could never eat pizza again. Very unhappy, indeed.


:-( MEN WHO RUB THEMSELVES AGAINST ME

Yes, yes… I suppose if I really wanted to I could take it as a compliment, but having some greasy looking bloke rubbing his arm against my left breast in the pub just doesn’t feel like one.

And they’ll do it anywhere, y’know. They’re not in the least bit fussy. Cue supermarket checkout queue.
The guy behind me has dropped his change and as he bends down I can feel pressure on my bum where pressure shouldn’t be. I turn swiftly and stare at the perpetrator, “oh, sorry luv, I was just picking my money up”. Yeah, I’ve heard that one before!

Cue crowded tube train (thank God I seldom use them anymore). I’m hanging from the strap trying to balance as the train swings its way through the tunnels. Pity the bloke behind me doesn’t do a better job of balancing. Why does he feel compelled to push his groin against my right buttock??

What is it with blokes like that? Do they think we like it or something? One swift slap on the chops and off to Room 101 with the lot of ‘em!


:-) GLACE CHERRIES

They’re scrumptious. And red. Not pink.



Well folks. That’s it from me. I’ve had my grouch and I’ve given myself a few pleasant things to think about too. Sounds like a pretty perfect day to me!


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