If You Don't Want Me To Annoy You....

I don't get annoyed. Not all that much and never to the point where I'll physiclly act on it. Actually, sometimes i do but, as i said, not all that much. Most of the time I don't even register the annoyance until much later on. When the incident happens I'll barely notice it, but then i'll be laying in bed at night with nothing but my own thoughts for company and it'll hit me; "You dirty mother fucker!" With this in mind here are the people who have annoyed me this week; No.1. Nigerian Business Man: Now this wasn't one of those laying in bed and then getting angry moments. This was blind rage from the off but it was all within the confines of a legitimate business meeting so I had to quell my urge to reach over the dinner table in the plush surrounds of the Holiday Inn Brent Cross restaurant and smash his laptop over his head. God only knows what he was writing on that laptop but my annoyed mind pictures him constructing an email to HQ back in Lagos, saying; "We gone got ourselves another one, John Paul! Bank details to follow". My office told me not to meet him. My Boss told me not to meet him. Everyone I spoke to told me not to meet him, but I like to give people the benefit of the doubt until they give me a reason not to, so like a mug I went to meet him and wasted my time and his. Actually, it wasn't an entire waste because I got to look right into the eyes of someone telling the most bare faced cock and bull story with a straight face, which would have been rather amusing if I had been able to pull him up on it to the proper degree and call him a lying cunt. Anyway, you paid for dinner, you fucking amateur, so I win! Nigeria -£11.95 and no Christmas lights for the kids. England 1. Yes!!!! No.2. The restaurant at Holiday Inn Brent Cross. Food comes on plates, not wooden fucking blocks. Why do some places think they need to fuck around things like this? Plates have served us perfecly well for centuries, yet some smart arses think it'll be cool and edgy to serve up their food on the back of a sea turtle. Actually, that would be quite cool. I'd happily eat their overpriced food off the back of a sea turtle if only to take my mind of the taste and I'd also be happy to ignore this level of pretentiousness if their nosh didn't make me want to vomit on the journey home. Your smoke and mirrors haven't worked on. me, Holiday Inn Brent Cross. I'm on to you, you fucking charlatans! No.3. People being extra specially miserable on the anniversary of the death of a loved one. Now this might sound callous, but hear me out. I've never lost anyone close to me but Im sure that time will one day come. And when it does you can bet your arse that 9 years down the line I won't be miserable as fuck on the anniversary of that persons death. Why is it that some people think they should.....no, need to be extra fucking solemn, tearful and miserable on the day that their loved one died? I'm not talking one year on or two years or even three, but I work with a girl whose father passed away 9 years ago and she was literally wailing away in the office and if the fucker had passed over yesterday. This may sound harsh but why do these people do it to themselves? Why do they feel that they need to be extra specially fucking sad on that particular day? Why not deal with the grief on a day to day basis? You'd be perfectly entitled to think about your lost loved one every single day and gradually deal with the grief that way rather than save it all up for one fucking day of the year when I come in to get some vital work done. The cynic in me says it was for purposes of garnering attention. And it worked! Not on me but there were quite a few ladies rushing around with tissues and cups of the sugariest of tea whilst the more rationally thinking men in the office sat back, shook their heads in disbelief and tried to get on with their fucking work. Why do it to me and why do it to yourself? Why not expend that energy doing a Fun Run for cancer research. Across the fucking M25! I'll even sponsor you. No.4. Petrol Station workers who ask you if you have any petrol. The scene, one day, will go like this: I park your car away from the pumps. There are no other cars on the forecourt. I walk in pick up a sandwich, a paper and a drink and go to the counter to pay for them; "Good morning, JUST these please." "Any petrol?" "AAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!! If I fucking had petrol I'd tell you, you slackjawed fuck. You ask me this every fucking day! If i have petrol I'll tell you the pump number and if this was the one day I decided to steal a whole tank of the stuff, your ingenius Columbo style of questioning isn't going to trip me up. Now just ring up my egg sandwich and fuck right off!" Though I guess it wouldn't matter if I did go berserker in there one day. They'd only ask again the next time. The wankers! These sort of lists should always come in 3's or 5's, or even 10's if you've had a particularly bad week, but i'm struggling to think of a 5th gripe, so i'll leave it there. Though i guess the week isn't over yet.