Beware - Miserable Old Git Alert! (Room 101)

Member Name: nikkisly

Product:	Room 101
Date:	23/03/02 (351 review reads)
Rating:

Advantages: All personal pet hates!

Disadvantages: Opps - who have I offended?

I'm forty-four years old tomorrow and, according to my friends, have already begun the rapid process of transformation from a normal, rational, relatively good-natured person to a miserable old git. The fact that I'm even writing this opinion is evidence of my metamorphosis. There I was taking a bit of a Dooyoo break, logged on briefly to do something "consumery", saw Room 101 as a new category and, before I could help myself, my brain went into overdrive at all the things I wanted to permanently delete from my life. So, in no particular order...

"I'd like to teach the world to sing".

Remember the old song by the New Seekers? Its release coincided with a particularly unhappy time in my life and, for months of personal misery, every radio and jukebox in the country was playing it. To add insult to injury, it was even selected to advertise a soft drink on the television, further prolonging its shelf life. If I had my way, every copy ever made would be consigned to the very bowels of Room 101, never to be aired in public again.

Cricket.

Sorry, boys and girls, but "willow on leather" has to go. Now, ask anyone - I'm not your typical girl. I enjoy watching most sports and can even explain the offside rule in football. Give me a Rugby match or Speedway, a golf tournament or even horse racing on the television and I'm as captivated as the next man (or woman). But cricket - what's that all about? No matter how many times my husband tries to explain the rules of the game, I still get my googlies confused with my silly-mid-ons and my yorkers with my square legs. However hard I try, I can never see further than a load of flabby men running up and down a field shouting "Owizeeeee?" at every opportunity. Even worse, I have a husband who is a fanatic and, at my advanced age, I just can't compete for his attentions. (Only last night, I was parading around the living room trying
to show off some sexy underwear I'd just treated myself too and he was actually leaning round me to watch the televised antics of Hussein and Co.)

Oh damn! I've just remembered something. If I banish cricket to Room 101, I'd also be banishing "Johnners" and Ian Botham's "legover", the funniest out take from sports commentary ever. I'll give cricket a temporary reprieve and some more thought and go on to...

Nouvelle Cuisine.

If I pay good money to go out for a meal I want more than a couple of mange touts and a fragment of carrot on my plate, no matter how artfully they've been arranged. Whoever introduced the fashion of paying a fortune for a few scant mouthfuls of food deserves to be sent to Room 101. Straight to Room 101, without passing "Go".

Fashion Shows.

Don't start me off on this one. Why, oh why, would anyone in their right mind want to look at a load of stick insects strutting their stuff on a catwalk, wearing the most outrageous costumes? Does anyone in the 'real world' ever wear any of the extremes from the fashion houses of Paris and Milan? Would Ms. Average from Wigan or Wolverhampton ever be seen dead in them? (Understand I'm not talking about 'haute couture' here, but some of the more ridiculous outfits that appear in the name of fashion such as the hats with the six-foot diameter brims and the trousers without bums.) What's the point? What am I missing?

Any industry that can introduce so-called "heroin chic" to the teenagers of the world, where models are forced to exist on half a lettuce leaf a day in order to be employable deserves to be obliterated for their irresponsibility. To allow them to keep making vast amounts of money from doing so is absolutely ludicrous. Off to Room 101 with them, I say!

Now I promised myself before writing this opinion that I'd spare you all and limit myself to
five items for Room 101. So, now comes the difficult bit - selecting my final consignee. Hmmmmm...caravans? DEFRA? Slugs? Beetroot? Those television advertisements for loans and credit? Rap Music? Litter Louts? No...it has to be...

Underwired Bras.

I would like to bet money on the fact that whoever invented this particular brand of torture was male. Oh, it's all very well for you guys - you may like to see the effects of the 'sheep dog' bra (rounds them up and points them in the right direction) but do you actually wear the things? (And would you admit it if you did?) Would you want a certain sensitive part of your anatomy supported by a brutal length of stiff wire, one that escapes its confines at every opportunity and is quite capable of piercing through several layers of skin when it does so, not to mention ruining washing machines? Would you? Well, would you? I rest my case...

Now, who's going to be Paul Merton in comments and decide whether or not I get my way?

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