An obvious entry, but really, nobody likes them, do they?

Traffic wardens per se are not a bad thing. The fundamental problem with a Traffic Warden is their inability to see anything other than black or white (or lines of yellow) - “I’m just stopping for three minutes to unload my car” - TICKET.

Couple that flaw with an appetite for power somewhere on the anti-social side of Genghis Khan, and you see that we have a real social ill developing.

Enough said.

Traffic Wardens: ‘nobody likes us, we don’t care.’

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Having been resoundingly lambasted for several of my recent posts, I’d like to make it clear that I actually like Deal or No Deal. As the title of this website suggests, though, even the best things in life can be shit. Deal or No Deal certainly has some shitty aspects.

Infuriating, even.

I’m talking, here, about the UK version of Deal or No Deal, which is aired on Channel 4 in a mid afternoon / early evening (or later on More 4 or E4 or some other version of 4 if you actually have a job) - not the Australian version, which I have also watched, and from which I can gather that the game can be played entirely differently (if not in as good a way).

Here are my problems with Deal or No Deal:

1. Noel Edmonds;
2. The emotional energy that contestants seem to invest in what is essentially a game of absolute chance.

I’ll pick up on my second point - having, as I mentioned, witnessed Deal or No Deal being played in Australia, I have seen a far more straightforward approach to what is, at its very core, a straightforward game: opening boxes at random.

However, we Brits feel the need to attach as much emotion to this game as we can; we feel the need to use “special numbers”; we simply need this money because “my grandad’s dog just died of leukemia” (or some other self-pitying rationale); we won’t pick that box because its our “friend” or “I just have this feeling about number 16 today”.

Utter claptrap.

It’s a game of chance.

Its funny how seemingly intelligent, rational human beings can suddenly regress into paganistic superstition as soon as their name is selected and they carry their little red box to the front of the studio. But thats not the worst of it - I can tolerate a bit of quaint number choice, however, the self-indulgence is something else.

We get life stories; tales of how people are “doing it for their kids”; family photos and all manner of other crap. Honestly, at Noel’s little interview (which has, over time, grown and grown to take up the entire first quarter of the show) we get all sorts of deeply personal (if not irrelevant) information, and have the displeasure of learning about some nobodies family circumstances: WE DON’T CARE, JUST GET ON WITH OPENING THE BOXES. It is as if, having been handed their fifteen minutes of fame (or even an hour), the contestent wants to milk the moment for everything, leaving us all feeling a little violated.

Its not about you!

Just watch how much love there is in the room here - too much:

Deal or No Deal (UK) an episode of Oprah, followed by some meaningful box opening.

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Surely the most annoying character that the BBC has ever come up with. Not cute. Not funny. Just really, really annoying.

You’d have thought that the licence fee would at least cover some decent script writers.

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Last night we watched Derren Brown, sois-disant Mentalist (mental might be the word) or illusionist, who had trailed his Channel 4 show, The System, as a foolproof way of beating the bookmakers.

He purported to show a single mother, whom he had e-mailed anonymously with five horse racing winners in a row, then was to invite her to Sandown where she was to back a certain horse, the “sixth winner”, with all the money she could muster. She had about £1,000 left from her earlier winnings, borrowed £1,000 from her father and, if maths are right, must have borrowed £2,000 (which she could ill afford) from a loan company.

Brown had her hand him this £4,000 for him to stake for her on Moon Over Miami. Which lost.

The untold hurt she must have felt must have been appalling. I have never in my life seen a show with such a rank, vile, bullying element - not even the dreaded Big Brother.

The denouement was that, of course, the ticket he had handed her had the winner’s name on it, and she collected.

But what he did was unforgiveable, utterly.

The System actually involved contacting some 7,500 or more ordinary people, sending one-sixth of them the name of one horse each in a six-runner race. All losers were then deleted and the “winning” group then divided again into six groups, again given one name each of a further six: so of course, eventually, there were a handful of six people with Five Winners In a Row.

All the “winners” were filmed betting in their fifth race, without yet meeting Brown. Only the winning ticket, the lady featured in the show, was asked back to the appalling torture-fest which was the final game.

The credits said that “all losers were offered their stakes back”, but does not make it clear whether they accepted or not.

This was television at its lowest point. For shame, Derren Brown; for shame, Channel 4.

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Banana flavoured foods are horrible.

There are some flavours that simply cannot be replicated, and banana is one of them - think about it, banana milkshake, banana yoghurt, banana angel delight, and - my personal favourite - banana medicine.

Imagine the scene - I, a seven year old boy, with a mild illness am being treated by an elderly male doctor:

Doctor: We’re going to give you some medicine.

Child: OK.

Doctor: Obviously, you’ll want the banana flavour, what with being a young boy and all.

Child: Erm, no thanks Doc, I’d rather have plain old medicine or, if possible, tablets.

Doctor: But banana flavour medicine is just like banana milkeshake - its loverly!

Child: Doc, not to put too fine a point on it, banana milkshake is god-awful, and banana flavour medicine is medicine flavoured banana milkeshake - it’s Lucifer’s elixir.

Doctor: Okay, banana flavour medicine it is (writes out prescription)

Child: Thanks Doctor

The conversation may not actually have played out like that, but it proves my point: there is no banana flavoured product in the world that tastes at all nice.

The only banana flavoured thing that does taste good, is a banana.

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Too expensive, I think so! Online gaming? Not easy. Sony’s PlayStation 3 has not been anywhere near as competitive as everyone would have hoped, and its release was put back time and again too.

The PS3 is a resounding failure by all accounts. Still not sure, watch this promotional video.

Well, not quite promotional, but funny nonetheless. Agree / disagree I’m sure you will, leave a comment underneath…

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Every now and then, a fashion or style comes along that leaves sensible people the world over shaking their heads in disbelief. One of the worst, and most frustratingly here-to-stay, is the Metrosexual Male.

There are several examples of metrosexual styling, not least in the mish-mash world of sporting celebrity, just think of the following:

• David Beckham (sarongs, long hair, short hair, permatan, etcetera)
• Christiano Ronaldo (greasy ever-changing hairstyles, purse carrying, permatan)
• Dennis Rodman (an early adopter of metrosexual style: coloured hair, hout cuture (i.e. ridiculous) fashion, etc)
• Most soccer players (permatan, straightened hair, pink shirts)

For reasons only known to the world of fashion, some time around the year 2001, men everywhere suddenly decided that hair-straighteners were for them; that moisturiser was a must-have product; and that anyone who didn’t use a sunbed at least once a week was clearly not as special as them. They were wrong.

At the time, I was relatively unconcerned: this must surely disappear as all other fads and fashions are apt, however, it seems, I was wrong.

One can only imagine the bathroom hours that are now entirely wasted by men who, in years gone by, would simply have sprayed a bit of deoderant on and brushed some water through their day old hair-gel.

Now everywhere I look in the city streets, all I can see is baby-faced boys, with highlighted hair, wearing pink, sipping moccha lattes.

Unfortunately, it would seem that metrosexuals are here to stay - there is now a cornucopia of mens health and other such magazines on the market. Even FHM, once the domain of men’s men, now features “products” - by products, I of course mean useless overpriced creams, and shaving products designed to give “that day old stubble look” which are in fact just ordinary soap which costs 20 times the normal price.

The worst aspect of all of this (and this is another aspect which is creeping into society as a whole) is that the metrosexual male has fostered the belief that he is somehow a celebrity. He wants VIP access to nightclubs; to drink the finest champagne; to have the latest and greatest hair care products; and a new hair-do each week. And all of this on a builder’s wages.

Metrosexual males: over-preened, over-tanned and over-drawn.

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Sporks: those half spoon, half fork monstrosities.

No reasoned arguments for and against here, I just don’t like them.

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I think the trade descriptions department needs to be activated for this piece of televisual garbage.

The latest UK installment has just started, and even without having watched any of it, it has already earned a mention on this erudite website. I have certain problems with Reality TV shows, but using viewer discretion, I am more than happy that people who enjoy them (there are apparently a few) are permitted to watch them. I choose not to. My problem is that I am limited to one English speaking radio station at the moment, and the presenters keep on going on about IaCgmooh.

This whilst I’m trapped in my steel box on the way to work. My main gripe is:

Who on earth are these so called celebrities?!

Perhaps someone who has actually watched the program can try to educate me. I have heard of one of them - the singer who had road wage or something… The rest aren’t even on the C-List as far as I can tell.

IaCgmooh is crap.

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By shallow people I mean those who criticize you because you’re not like them or you just aren’t good enough to be their friend.

Unfortunately here- at least in my country- are many people who act like that. You might be walking along the street when some stupid looks at you making grimaces and laughing at you.

So that’s the thing. What do they want? Do they want all of us acting like them? I don’t really get it, why do they do that. Well, there is another reason too, they are pretty immature.

TV is rubbish -here at least- The only things they show us are ass, breasts and ass, ass ass!!!! Somehow, they’re telling me how I should be!Blonde , with very big breasts and a nice butt. I’m old enough now to know that I like myself even though I’m not like the girls that the media shows. But, think about this: those girls who are very young that spend their afternoon or night watching TV will grow up with that idea in their minds and will be like those girls.

Not only that, the anorexia and bulimia are becoming really dangerous. Many people have died because of that, because they want to be thinner. This is a real issue my firends, check it out:

We should think about that. How many things can happen just because of a TV show??

Anyway, I don’t know how is it there, but I wanted to tell you what I can see from here.

Oh, and I’m sorry if there are things you don’t understand, sorry about my grammar!!

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