Gertsamtkunstwerk

Personal space

Another thing that annoys me. I went in a shop near the office ot get some milk. I go in maybe once a fortnight. there's a man who works there - sometimes, not every time I go in - who gives me the creeps. Today he said, "Did you have a good weekend?" "It was alright," i said in a non-committal close the conversation way. "Too much sleepy-sleepy?" he asked.

"None of your fucking business, who the bloody hell do you think you are asking questions about my life. I don't know you, we're merely conducting a minor commercial transaction. For all you know you stupid wanker I could have spent the weekend getting no sleep because of a sick child, dying grandparent, leaking roof, departing lover, barking dog. I could have just found out I was losing my job or need to have major surgery. Don't dare presume to make comments on my weekend, tosser. And furthermore,perv, you don't have to stroke my hand when you take the pound coin from it, perv."

"Huh! Thank you," I replied.

Bigoted homophobia

Stuart G tells the story of his cabbie archives bloggered - it's headed Tuesday May 27th.

I worked with a guy and somehow I mentioned that where I worked for most of the 90s was a place where out gay men were ten-a-penny.

This guy pulled a face of embarrassed-amused-disgust and said, "I must remember if I ever work there not to have a shower."

Of course, I told him not to be so prejudiced, that the organisation in question has a clear sexual harrassment policy, and did he know that women are sexually harassed by straight men far more often than straight men are by gay men.

Later, some of us girlies had a real giggle.

This guy was - to coin a phrase - minging. Really repulsive. If his natural repulsion wasn't bad enough, he added to it by his comb-over and his half-mast trousers.

He never made any reference to a partner, ex-partner, whatever. When I went on holiday to Spain last year, he informed he had been to Spain... for work. It seemed that every foreign country he visited had been for work.

Mummy's boy.

the ultimate Visible 'x' line

Following from Lyle's fairly heave-making comment a couple of months back, I can now honestly say I can actually go one better.

Sitting outside the pub yesterday afternoon, I had my back turned to most of the car park beer garden. Jimmy made me look at Waynetta Slob's Twin Sister who was sitting a few tables away, with her back to us. She was displaying acres of builder's crack, then a couple of inches of functional knickers - white with blue spots - and below that a trouser waistband. Jimmy informed me I had missed the crowning element - the display of Sanitary towel above knickers.

Bitch on a bus

I got the last remaining seat on the bus this morning. I shared it with another woman. I say share loosely. She had four fifths, I had the rest. Anybody wanting to get off had to push past me as I dangle dover the aisle. Every time the bus jolted I nearly fell off the seat. So, in the interests of my own safety, I sat more and more on top of her. She didn't like that and wriggled a bit. I ignored her wriggling, so she said, "Will you stop doing that?" I pointed out to her that a bus seat is designed for two people, not a bag, a space and two people. She said "You could have said." I said, "Application of a bit of common sense in the first place would have helped, you silly cow."

A man in front stood up to get off and really aggressively said, "You can sit here, all on your own."

I was annoyed at him: he didn't know what was going on and had no business interfering. I was annoyed at myself. There must be a better way to handle this sort of situation. I don't think I'm unreasonable wanting more than one-fifth of a bus seat. She was being disingeneous saying "You could have said." Rightly or wrongly, I tend to think that if people won't apply the common sense/common decency approach they are hardly likely to respond to "I'm terribly sorry to trouble you but if you don't mind it would be awfully decent of you to budge over a smidgen, please."

I sort of got revenge later. The bus - which was almost totally full - was terminating in Brixton, so everybody was getting off. Cow next to me really wanted to get off. So much so that she stood up. I didn't see the point of standing up when there's about thirty people already shuffling down the aisle. She really wanted to get off. She might have been late, who knows. But she couldn't get off without squeezing past me and my bag. I just carried on sitting there until the back of the shuffle passed my seat. I suppose she could have said "Excuse me."

Or "Sorry." It's just a little bugbear of mine the number of people who say "sorry" when they mean "Excuse me". Not a big bugbear, just a minor irritation with no consequences.

Or normally no consequences. A few years back, I was standing on a bus that was packed absolutely way beyond how packed it should be. And tackling the Brixton Hill chicane at speed. Sardines, elbows in faces, knees in groins, bags in stomachs, heels on toes. Some bloke behind me said "Sorry." And again. I realised he was speaking to me. I shrugged benignly - not his fault. So again, he said "Sorry." The woman next to me looked at me perplexed. Again he said sorry. In the end I said, "There really is no need to apologise - we're all in this together." "No," he said, "I want to get off the bus." At which point the woman next to me and I created a gap to let him through. When he was off, she said, "I thought he was apologising for standing on your foot."

Subjective Analysis

The 2001 Census shows 30% of people in England and Wales live on their own. According to the BBC, the 'worst' place is London, with 35%.

I beg your pardon. I am part of that 35% of Londoners. I live because I am practically and financially independent. What's bad about that?

Complaint coming.

Update: I complained to Talking Point. I've not been published (they never publish me) but Ricardo Molina and Kate Tudor have made the point more eloquently.

Not that the Beeb has had the courtesy to change the phraseology.

Irritation

It's time to make a list of things that irritate me. This is not about things that anger me, like nuclear weapons, men who use girls as sex toys, or clitorectomies. Nor is it about things that annoy me such as body odour or a car parked outside my house with loud throbbing-bass non-music.

1. Shop assistants, who, when the bill comes to £5 and a few pence, and I tender £10 and a few pence, can't calculate the change
2. people who pause in the doorway of a lift when I want to get out
3. people who walk backwards into me
4. referring to a magazine as a book
5. using an apostrophe in plural's (sic)
6. people who carry umbrella as ski pole
7. people who crowd me in queues
8. men who answer the phone with just their surname
9. unsolicited use of titles eg Miss, Mrs
10. using a title where a given name would aid clarity
11. referring to 'given names' as 'Christian names'
12. people who stand on the left
13. people who stop at the top of escalators
14. people who push me out of the way to get the train that doesn't leave for ten minutes - and hasn't arrived yet
15. people who sit on a bus or train with their legs wide open
16. people who stand at the bottom of the stairs on a bus and don't know if there are any seats upstairs

I think I must have written that on public transport. I'm sure it will grow!

Baseball caps and gated communities

Two items caught my ear on the wireless this morning.

I have to say that baseball caps in general and men wearing hats indoors are two things that do irritate me. But not to the point of saying they should be Primetime news. I would tend to agree that a significant proportion of people who would wear a baseball cap whilst in consultation with a doctor are likely to be hostile and aggressive types. But can you legislate or regulate away stupidity?

As for gated communities, they are something that fill me with dread. Personally, I cannot see the attraction of living somewhere shut off from the outside world, surrounded by neighbours who, almost by definition are smug, self-satisfied, narrow minded, misanthropic. The ones I have seen are devoid of any character, any energy and any facilities worth mentioning. They become an enclave where people have nothing better to do with their sad little lives except worry about being burgled, whilst failing to realise that they advertise themselves to be wealthy, and make themselves more vulnerable to burglary by excluding passers-by who would act as a deterrent to burglars.

There are wider social issues about social exclusion. However, the sort of people who will gravitate towards gated communities are unlikely to have the slightest concern about such matters. "I'm alright Jack, sod you"

I was tempted however to email 'Today' suggesting that people live in gated communities to escape people wearing baseball caps. But I suspect it isn't half as funny written down as it is in my head.