Last time I wrote about how much I hate being in pain, and it’s safe to say it’s something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. I recently thought how that has to go into my own Room 101 right? What else would I put in there?
Of course, Room 101 in the Orwellian sense, in the book 1984 is the room used by the secret service to intimidate and torture people to conform or give information. It’s a room filled with that prisoner’s worst fears. But, in a perhaps more commonly known sense, in the sense of the BBC TV show Room 101, it isn’t. It’s a room where you’d send everything you hate, and with 2016 being as it has, a bit shit, I think this room might be getting a bit crowded. So what would I send in there?
Get ready. I’ve got a list. I’m like a fucked off Santa.
First and foremost, astronauts. There’s something odd about astronauts. I’ve seen documentaries about guys who went to the moon and they’re all a little strange in the head. Let’s face it, anyone who’s been to space has to have a bit of a screw loose. Putting yourself in a tiny metal box, and being shot up into space by a giant bomb? If I want somewhere with no atmosphere I go to Stevenage. And as for side-effects? Well, have you seen Tim Peake? Clearly grinning like a fucking LOON is a by-product of spending time in space. Next?
Next is ironing board covers. I go through about six a year. I ruin them somehow. They don’t fit our ironing board easily and I have to pull some fucking string to get the bastard thing to fit. Then the string breaks and I’m buggered. Plus, mine looks like an Aushwitz uniform. Ironing is traumatic enough, I don’t need a reminder of the Holocaust every time I do it.
My email. JUST LOOK AT IT.
Look at all these emails from companies wanting me to part with money. Sometimes I just don’t bother to look and delete everything. Have I considered culottes? Yes. Always.
Another pet hate is dogs. Gettit? I’m hilarious. Or do I mean dog owners? I say hang irresponsible arseholes who let their dogs shit on the street. And owners who let their dogs run up and sniff you. My stepdaughter was terrified of dogs. Who wouldn’t be if something your height started coming up to you and panting and sniffing you? Mind you that sounds like Friday night at the local Wetherspoons. “Oh he won’t hurt you” the owner says. No, but I might hurt YOU unless you get your animal out of this 6 year old’s FACE. I guess it ain’t the dog’s fault.
Next up are pharmacists. Specifically pharmacists in Boots. WHY DOES IT TAKE THEM 45 MINUTES TO GET MY BOX OF PILLS? Look at piece of paper, go over to shelf, pick up box, put it in bag, give it to Spencer. THAT DOESN’T TAKE 45 MINUTES? What else do they do behind that fucking screen?
Another thing. When they use real newsreaders to report fictional news in TV shows or films. I’m pretty sure I shit myself once when John Sopel popped up in an episode of Dr Who, sitting in the familiar studio with the logos and rolling text of BBC News 24, talking about the Daleks invading London. I was in the kitchen so I didn’t know it was an episode of Dr Who until I’d been in my panic room for 4 days.
I’m on a roll now. Wasps. They’re BASTARDS. Allergies. Why? Why are some people allergic to flowers and air? The overfriendliness of the celebrity and the dance partner on Strictly. Sometimes they’re all over each other! “GET A FUCKING ROOM YOU TWO!” Rob Brydon. Oh, and David Walliams. Dead heat in a smug-looking twat race. Next? Paying more than 80p for a soda and lime in a pub. Seriously, it’s lime cordial and water and I ain’t paying more than 80p for it AND THAT’S REALLY IT. Want another one? Drivers who are UP YOUR ARSE all the way down the A1. SG65 UTX, take note. I want to get home safely. I don’t want to be in an accident and drink my meals through a straw for the rest of my life just because you’re a MASSIVE DICKSPLASH.
Nigel FUCKING Farage…
So. What would you put in Room 101? Coriander? South Western Trains? Bloggers? Please let us know via le comments section. Commenting is GOOD.
Thanks for reading.