I hate Jamie Oliver

the saviour jamie oliver

Do you see that ominous, fleshy shadow on the horizon, bulging like an elephantine balloon full of half-digested cheesy-chips and flat Coca-Cola? That, my friends, is something called obesity, and one day soon it’s going to kill us all. We have one chance to avert this impending, chocolate-milkshake flavoured disaster. His name is Jamie Oliver, and he alone can hold back the tidal wave of mayonnaise that’s about to engulf the world.

This isn’t true. The reality of the situation is that some people are fat because they eat too much and then don’t run anywhere. This is pretty straight-forward. Do we really need a faux-Cockney to tell us this in a condescending tone? No, we really don’t. Here are some more things about the fat-tongued bore that annoy me.

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I hate people who talk, eat or breathe loudly


I hate people who need to do things very loudly. London specifically seems to be full of them and I hate all of them. The major problem seems to be people who talk on the phone loudly and for hours. Why would you have a really personal phone call about your boyfriend’s shortcomings in the bedroom on the number 8 bus at 6 PM on a Wednesday?

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I hate my flatmate


Imagine all the people that you find annoying. I bet if you were to combine every little thing that annoys you about everyone you know or have ever met into a dense mass of hate, it would still annoy me less than my flatmate.

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I hate going to watch my friends’ bands


There’s little worse than being emotionally blackmailed into going to see your friends play a gig. It’s bad enough watching a dreadful, sleep-inducing band. But when your friends are the members of this soporific group, unlike at any other gig, you can’t leave early for fear of offending anyone.

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Bicycle couriers


I was starting to worry that my capacity for vitriolic rage and hatred was depleting of late. Then, on my way to work today I saw something that brought it all rushing back: bicycle couriers.

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America and the shit it has given the world to endure


Yep, I hate every single person, place, object and entity in America. Okay, I don’t. But that doesn’t mean I don’t hate a great number of things that America has given to the world. And it also doesn’t mean that I won’t list a selection of these things for you now.

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Living with people


Living where I do, being anal about hygiene and house tidiness means I can’t turn a blind eye when faeces is smeared all over the toilet, and I prefer the fridge not to smell like it’s got a decomposing family of rats at the bottom of it.

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I hate people who force me to partake in urban handshakes


God, can normal people stop doing these? I don’t know whether to laugh or puke when I attempt to shake someone’s hand and they manoeuvre this gesture into a weird clenched-palm, elbow-in-the-air urban greeting.

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