MarkCity

Sunday, October 26, 2003
 
Walking to Sainsbury's this morning, Butter and I paused at a zebra crossing, expecting the oncoming cars to stop and allow us to cross. Did they? Hah! This prompted me to declare 'people who fail to stop at zebra crossings' as one of my pet hates. But what are my other bete noires? Here, for people who don't include top ten lists among their personal peeves, are my Top 10 Pet Hates:

1. The words 'Do you eat fish?'
I know I've gone on about this one before (see my FAQs) but it really does make me go all wobbly with frustration and rage. I only tell people I'm a veggie if I have to because I can't bear the inevitable follow-up question. I've considered getting T-shirts printed with 'No I don't eat fish' written on them, but that would prompt even more discussion about my non-fish-eating. By the way, being asked 'Do you eat sugar?' and 'Can you drink tea?' don't irritate me as much because they're so patently bonkers.

2. Celebrity authors.
This is a biggie, and I'm unashamed to say that it's caused mainly by jealousy and bitterness. It's also a fact that all novels by celebrities are rubbish. I know this because in the past, I read a few. Now I'm staging a one-man boycott of all novels by Ben Elton, Louise Weiner, Alexei Sayle and every other pop star/comedian/actor who's always had a book in them. I'm not even going to make an exception for Pammie Anderson's forthcoming meisterwerk.

3. The saxophone player who lives next door.
We used to think it was a clarinet, before Butter spotted it through the window. Being the Devil's own instrument, saxophones are bad enough when played by professionals. When played at 8am on a Saturday morning by a tone-deaf moron who hasn't quite yet mastered his scales, it's torture. Actually, I heard the US military were thinking of recruiting him to assist him in their efforts against internatiional terrorism.

4. Nose-blowing in public.
It always happens to me. I'm sitting on the train, minding my own business, when some flu-ridden Typhoid Mary comes and sits next to me then spends the entire journey coughing, sniffing and blowing their nose. Why didn't they stay at home? I don't want your germs! The Japanese have the right idea. Nose-blowing is practically illegal. It is, however, okay to hawk up huge gobs of phlegm and send them pavement-bound. Which is worse, I suppose.

5. The way people act around babies.
I don't dislike babies per se. In fact, I'm completely indifferent to them. I just don't get the way people ooh and aah at them as if they're amazingly unique and attractive. The presence of a baby - which will probably grow up to commit most of the other crimes on this list - turns normally sensible people into idiots.

(Having said all that, I once held my nephew while my sister went to the loo in Tesco and I was quite amazed by the way women suddenly looked at me. Babies can be amazing babe-magnets.)

6. Phil Collins
I'm not sure if a person can be a pet hate, but Phil Collins makes me want to projectile vomit. The music, the way he looks, his politics, everything he says and does. I used to wonder if I could ever be friends with a Phil fan. Fortunately, there aren't many of them around these days, so I hope this will never be tested.

7. The phrase 'Is it beyond the wit of man?'
This is a hangover from my Connex customer services days, a trauma from which I'm still recovering. Actually, I hate all hyperbolic phrases in complaint letters: 'I was appalled that the train was a minute late', 'The presence of a pigeon on the platform ruined my life', and so on. 'Let the train take the strain? You must be joking!' makes me turn purple too.

8. Everything the Daily Mail believes in
If I'm ever confused about something or am struggling to form an opinion, I just have to check out the Mail's stance on the issue. I then know that I should adopt the opposite point of view. Works every time.

9. Ironic dancing.
Trendy people - or people who think they're trendy - dancing ironically and 'hilariously' to pop songs that they despise. Is there a more pathetic site in the universe? No.

10. Automated telephone systems.
I want to speak to someone about my mobile phone bill. First I have to negotiate a maze of random numbers. Take one wrong turn and I have to hang up and start again. Then I do exactly what the company wants me to do: I give up. And weep.

So that's my top ten. Oh, and I also loathe all forms of racism, homophobia, sexism, animal cruelty, prejudice, ignorance, violence, war and abuse. I'm not completely shallow, you know.



Thursday, October 23, 2003
 
I've added some pictures and a short report on Tuesday's Suede mini-gig here.



Sunday, October 19, 2003
 


The greatest band in the world, Suede, release their Singles album tomorrow. On Tuesday, they're playing a free gig at HMV in Oxford Street, and to get tickets you have to be one of the first 150 people to buy the CD at that store tomorrow. So I'll be there, along with all the other, ahem, beautiful ones show, show, showing it off and shaking their meat to the beat, feeling somewhat like the litter on the breeze and sheltering from the nuclear sky. Actually, it'll probably be just me. Maybe Brett Anderson will be there to personally greet me and sign my copy. Or maybe there'll be massive queues, like in that U2 video when they played on that rooftop, the traffic snarled up and the cops mildly perturbed because of ROCK N ROLL! Phew!

Syd keeps trying to bite my toes. How sweet. I almost wrote a Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells grumble to the BBC this week ('Come on BBC...') because they broadcast a programme that showed little boys beating rats to death with sticks and presenting this as if the kids were not future serial killers but, in fact, lovable little blighters. They then presented rat fanciers as looney nutters who should be locked up and spat on for being slightly different. Ooh, it made me angry.

Talking of the Beeb, still no news about Killing Cupid. And still talking of the BBC, they announced the Big Read top 21 yesterday. No Secret History. I've read 8 of the books - I guess that's not bad going. I've voted for Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials. But everyone knows Lord of the Rings will win, with Harry Potter in second place. Or there could be a huge shock, with Harry winning and Tolkien coming second. God, the tension is too much.

I just had an apocalyptic experience while walking to Blockbuster. Which isn't the kind of sentence you get to write every day. There were hundreds of small birds - starlings or sparrows, maybe - swooping into a single tree in the town centre. I walked beneath the branches and looked up: there was a swarm of them, their combined voices drowning out the passing cars. Well spooky. It was like being in that Hitchcock movie. Then they flew down and, taking hold of my clothes, lifted me into the air, carrying me high above the houses and away, through the clouds, to a faraway land where humans, birds and small hooded rats lived together in harmony, listening to Suede records.

Alright, I made that last bit up.



Monday, October 13, 2003
 

Happy Thanksgiving!

Last night Butter and I went to a Canadian Thanksgiving dinner. No, I didn't know such things existed either. American and Canadian readers discuss: did the Canadians steal this idea from their southern neighbours? Hmmm. Anyway, the food was good - Butter made a fab veggie mushroom thingie - but afterwards the hostess announced that it was traditional for everyone to say what they were thankful for.

Butter and I recoiled in horror. What, we had to say something sincere? Something about how thankful we are for good friends and family and for not having George Bush as President and all that horrible treacly stuff? We couldn't do it. Butter said afterwards she was thankful for the gift of irony. Anyway, Happy Thanksgiving to my Canadian readers. Not that I'll have any left after this.

We bought Syd and Nancy a digging box at the weekend - a tray full of dirt with seeds and other treats buried in it. They proceeded to carry each individual clump of mud under the sofa. Little sods.




Sunday, October 05, 2003
 
Alex won Fame Academy. It's so nice to back a winner for a change. Without wishing to sound sorry for myself, I nearly always back losers: Jon Tickle, Nottingham Forest, Darius, my entire Fantasy Football team... My last experience of backing a victor was when Labour won the election, and look how that's turned out. Alex, however, is unlikely to wage war on Iraq or abolish student grants, and is more likely to release an album which will be part Coldplay and part unique. Talent won through. I just hope she doesn't become a puppet churning out cover versions.

It's a big day for music tomorrow. New Belle & Sebastian album plus new singles from The Strokes and Suede. A big day for music and an expensive day for me.

Tonight, somebody might shoot himself in the head live on TV. I was excited to read this, but then realised that it wasn't going to be Jim Davidson and lost interest.