I have lived for nearly 39 years and, much as it may shock, not everything I have encountered in that time has impressed me. Indeed, truth be told, some things have left me downright cold. I don't know what possesses me to speak of failure this evening, perhaps the lacklustre European performace thus far in the Ryder Cup, or the pitiful remnants in my vegetable garden slowly rotting away into winter. Maybe I am just a grumpy wumpy (with thanks to Lulu Bear from Bananas in Pyjamas). It is of no matter, the decision is made and tonight I will showcase things which are not all that, the suckiest of the succubuses, the dross of the ages. A place in HTML eternity wherein the damned can find a home. The trashcan.... you get the idea.
The sound system of the Sinclair ZX Spectrum 48K - Now, to be fair, a command in BASIC called 'Beep' was never likely to set the world alight, but the Beep command was not even particularly basic, or user friendly. You had to specify two numbers, separated by a comma, one indicating pitch and the other duration. There was no standard muscial notation to number guide. On one occasion I spent half a day programming 'In The Bleak Midwinter' via trial and error only to be greeted by what amounted to a single cat with it's delicates caught in a Bulldog's teeth. If Sir Clive Sinclair's music be the food of love, play off!
The Ghost Train - As a child I was terrified of the whole concept of the ghost train and refused to be taken on to such a fearful thing. I was convinced that real ghosts and demons were hidden in that netherworld behind the doors - the frightening face painted on indicated that it was so. When I was finally convinced that I would be quite safe and that my father would accompany me so nothing bad could poissibly happen, I plucked up the courage to ride into Hell itself. Within two minutes, an easily frightened, slightly deluded young boy found the whole concept of fear risible. Thanks a lot Ghost Train, you numbed me to fear of the exquisite horrors of this world.
Reality TV - Every single bit of it is drivel. There are no exceptions to this rule. If reality is a series of faded celebrities slightly out of their comfort zone, members of the public who can sing in tune or juggle a bit and the lining on Simon Cowell's pockets as he dehumanises us all further and creates a vacuum where once went talent then I look forward to the remainder of my days in boggle-eyed escapism locked in the prism of my own mind. Reality TV, get a grip people, get a damn grip!
Costa Del Sol - There are simply no words to describe the awfulness of the Costa Del Sol. There is no expression grim enough to capture the hollow banality of holidaying in this accursed place. It is hot and crowded and you can get egg and chips there, or all day fried breakfasts. It is a motorway service station with sunshine and an excess of violent drunks, syphillic lotharios and shaggamuffins. If we bring back Transportation, I would have criminals sent there. Well, the ones that didn't flee there in the 70s anyway. Ugh, just ugh.
Telling people your degree is in Philosophy - No, this does not mean I can tell you 'what's life all about then hey?'. I am also aware, painfully, of the limitations it has for employment purposes. I do not need you to observe that it's not much use in the real world. I do not point out that your partner would be of no use in a beauty contest or that your children are a quite a bit thicker than other children their age, I expect the same respect for my life. I worked hard for that degree. OK, that is not strictly true, I did very little work and got drunk using the taxpayer funded student grant available at the time rather a lot. This isn't about that, though, it's about YOU and your shoddy attitude to my degree. So there!
Hangovers - Possibly the most convincing evidence not only of God, but of one who loves to rip the piss. I mean, OK, drinking leads you into mischief a lot of the time, but does the punishment really meet the crime? And what's the deal with them getting worse the older I get and on much less alcohol?! I am much more reserved and sensible these days and yet I suffer on what appears to be an exponential curve of hangoverage. It is most unfair.
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