Category Archives: J’aime pas

Help the Hairdresser

He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Please help him.

I am raising money for hairdressers.

Eighty-five percent of these blighted individuals have been wickedly robbed of many key abilities the rest of us take for granted. They’ve mistakenly stumbled onto the one career path to which they’re hopelessly unsuited, exerting their cutting power on a petrified, innocent public.

We need to get them out of the salon and into other jobs, lest we remain shockingly coiffed for all eternity.

A recent study showed that whilst most hairdressers have mastered the trick of looking flamboyantly skilled and ever-understanding, most are actually blind and deaf. The rest are clinically insane, driven to their madness by the millions of snippets of exiled hairs that torture every moment of their waking existence. Continue reading


Stupid. Full Stop.

This image has not been tampered with.

There is a little thing in France that every French person knows and accepts but which blows the mind of every foreigner here, should they stay long enough to discover it. It is something which has perplexed me unfailingly since the first time I sat down at a French computer.

As I started to type I noticed that the words were coming out rather unspellingly. I marvelled briefly at the possibility that Continue reading

Handshake Heart Break

I have often derided the bad handshake with friends, and not once has anyone said it didn’t totally bum them out. It is universally deplored. No one likes a floppy finger shimmy and no one believes the more pain, the better.

The most common of these two evils has to be the classic wet fish. Those people who just waggle their wrist in your general direction. It’s like shaking hands with a tea towel.
Continue reading

Help! I’m Through to Automated Help.

When I was last in England, I was checking train times via the old-fashioned landline telephone (or ‘phone’ as Wikipedia helpfully indicates it is colloquially called), when I accidentally went through to an automated service. I’m sorry to say, it incited me to inexplicable impatience, downright disbelief and an overwhelming desire to chuck the ‘phone’ at my own head.

The principal problems I have with these services are:

  • They are not designed to work with humans (this is counter-effective since humans, as far as I know, are the only ones to use them).
  • They insult the intelligence of those with even the teeniest amount.

But before I continue, let me share with you the ‘conversation’ I had with ‘someone’ at National Rail in the UK: Continue reading

Don’t Fear the Escalator

The first escalator came into use at Coney Island, New York in 1896. That was a long time ago, right? Most people living on Earth now had not even been conceived.

Today, the number of escalators is rising steadily, enabling us too to rise steadily without the ordeal of negotiating stairs with our legs and feet.

But I’m sure you would agree that what was once a marvel of modern machinery is now a mere fleck on the face of our subsequent achievements. The escalator has long been taken for granted; its once amazing triumph of getting us from one floor to another in a staggering, ooh, three quarters of the time, is now no more impressive than your dad wearing jeans. Continue reading

You Snooze, You Lose.

Unfortunately this is my current phone. I did not borrow it from 1998.

I had to think about this one for a bit. I thought it was one of the things I sometimes liked and sometimes didn’t. But that is what makes it so evil. The snooze button is the worst kind of enemy because it makes you think it’s your friend. Oh evil snooze button, what dastardly creature invented you? You torture my mornings and ruin my days. You prey on me at my weakest moment and lure me into your sleepy web. I wish you had never been conceived, I curse your thoughtless creator.

Let’s face it, who has ever felt better for those extra few minutes of sleep? The only moment that feels good is that split second when you press the button. That’s it. THAT. IS. IT. There is no more pleasure to be gained from this wretched little knob. Before you know it you are rudely awoken again. You didn’t enjoy being asleep: you were asleep. For nine minutes. That’s not a good number of minutes to be asleep (btw, is there some special snooze button technology that is not compatible with divisibles of two or five?). You enjoyed being able to go back to sleep, but then you just doubled the pain of waking up. “Hey, you know, I hate waking up in the morning… I think I’ll do it twice! No wait, I’ll do it three times! Great! Now I feel like absolute shit!” Continue reading

He Loves Me…

He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not (I wish he loved me not at all, instead of such a lot).

He starts with gentle stroking as my senses start to wake. I push him away calmly, but he won’t give me a break.

His clinginess annoys me every morning when I rise; he caresses my proportions with his length against my thighs.

The more I try to hold him back, the more I’m open to attack. He really has a canny knack of gravitating to me; I can’t contain a hasty smack (where is his sense of privacy?).

It’s getting suffocating, unrelentingly frustrating, how can unrequited love arouse such vehement hating?

I’m hard on him, it’s true, I know, whereas he loves me head to toe…

Got to chuck him, that’s for certain…

Stupid f****** shower curtain.

Sticky shower curtain: j'aime pas

Shock as Indicator Use Rockets


Despite protests, another radical driver employs his indicator today in Paris

A new record was broken last Friday when a Parisian used his directional indicator to signal to other road users his intention to turn. The incredible feat took place during a 27-minute journey between the busy area of République in the centre of Paris and the 17th arrondissement in the north-west. The record was smashed thanks to a triple execution of the manoeuvre on three separate occasions, all of which are officially counted even though two were not made in conjunction with a turn in the corresponding direction. Continue reading

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