the relatively recent tendency in england for food to be both ridiculously flouncy and still not very good. cf the organic herbed cheddar, onion marmalade and rocket ciabatta sandwich i was forced to buy in kensington the other day when what i really wanted was an unfussy, mouth-burningly mature cheddar cheese and branston pickle crusty roll, but the shop had none of the required components.
i blame this on jamie oliver.
(don't ask what i was doing in kensington. it will only make you think less of me.)
come to think of it, the person who invented ciabatta can eat a gargantuan helping of dick as far as i'm concerned.
the above annoyance applies especially to crisps. no, i do not want sea salt and balsamic vinegar, sour cream and chive or any other stupid middle-class corruption of a tried and tested, classic flavour. now kindly go fuck yourselves.
a further note to fancy crisp manufacturers: TAKE THE BASTARD SKINS OFF THEM AND COOK THEM UNTIL THEY ARE CRISP, NOT LIKE SHARDS OF BLOODY GLASS, THANK YOU.
people who think that complaining constantly about music makes them sound knowledgeable.
north american girlfriends who look at you like you are somehow backward when you use a word like "butty" or try to explain why black pudding, mushy peas, real ale, cricket and grime are actually good things.
vegetarians.
having to fight the reflex to get my cigarettes out when i sit down in a pub.
posh people who talk loudly and in florid detail about the correct method of slicing the top off a bottle of champagne with a sword - especially at 7am when you've just got into work.
miserable cunts who moan about stupid shit that doesn't matter.
unnecessary foul language.
oh, and before i forget, anyone who uses the word "chav" deserves to get a kicking at any time of day, whether the people doing the kicking are drunk or not.