Tag Archives: 10 reasons

10 Reasons Why I Hate Camping

31 Aug

Camping; a great British pastime that to me is one of life’s truly overrated experiences. Sod ‘getting in touch with nature’ and all that malarkey, give me a holiday where I can chill out and not have to worry about collecting sticks and trying to keep warm please. I went camping once and I’ve vowed never to go again. If I ever get even a little bit tempted to join friends on their camping trips, I always remember the reasons why I hate it so much. Then I spend the next few days sat at home in my warm house, sleeping in a comfortable bed, smiling to myself in the knowledge that one of them will be stumbling to a nearby bush in the early hours of the morning to urinate and will probably tread barefoot in fox’s shit. With that in mind, here are those reasons why I hate camping so much:

 1)  It could be the middle of a glorious summer, a delightful heat wave period, but rest assured, as soon as you pitch a tent it will start raining. Once it starts, it doesn’t stop, and it is impossible to keep anything dry. Clothes, personal belongings (such as phones and wallets), seating and even food will soon be damp. Don’t even think about trying to start a raging fire for you and your fellow campers to congregate by. Instead, you’ll be forced to huddle around a smouldering pile of sticks in an effort to keep warm.

 

2)  Once sat in your huddle, there will always be someone in the group who will get out their guitar that they have brought with them especially. After a few minutes of strumming out-of-tune chords, they will try and get everyone else to join in with renditions of Kum-By-Yah or some other song that nobody really likes nor indeed knows the words to. A few campers will start clapping along. It is at this point you should consider going home.

 

3)  The food is always terrible. As it is neigh on impossible to plug in a freezer, tinned foods are on the menu for the majority of the camping period. Granted, a few sausages may be cooked on the first night, but after these have been consumed you can only look forward to a diet of sludge. Any meat that is cooked will be nice and crispy on the outside, and raw on the inside. Unless you have a cast iron gut, you’ll be squatting in the bushes in no time at all. This leads me nicely onto my next point

 

4)  There are no toilets, or if they are, you need to go in prepared. By prepared, I mean you’ll need overalls, wellington boots, a nose clip, a gas mask and a step ladder so you can hover above the mountain of filth that has already accumulated. If there are no toilet facilities (because you’ve chosen to camp in some woods rather than a site), then you’ll have to make do with a bush. How great is that! If neither of these choices appeal to you, you have the option of holding it in until you get home. What a fantastic holiday experience.

 

5)  Due to the above reasons, most people will be in a pretty bad mood, and conversation will therefore be mundane and quite frankly, annoying. Typically, some cad will start to tell ghost stories as the night draws in, so you can all scare yourselves shitless, hoping you’re not going to bump into one when you venture out of your tent, or not get murdered during the night.

 

6)  Sleeping is impossible. If you’re not sat with your eyes wide open, saying “what’s that?” worriedly at every noise you hear and thinking the worst, you’re laying shivering in a sleeping bag, with only the tent canvas between you and the wet grass. The wind will blow the sides of the tent in, sticking it to your face as it is so wet, and there will always be, without fail, an earwig or beetle underneath your sleeping bag in the morning.

 

7)  The games you are forced to play such as Rounders or some other nonsense sport, which always results in the alpha male of the group smashing a ball with a lump of wood into a nearby field so that a group of children and women scamper after it, trying to avoid the cow-pat landmines. The same resulting arguments always follow during these games; ‘I was no way out!’ or ‘Those aren’t the rules!’, for example.

 

8)  I’ve mentioned earwigs and beetles somehow getting into the ‘sealed’ tent, but there are loads of other bugs and creatures too. Moths as big as dinner plates swarm around the campsite, like crazed drug-fuelled creatures looking for their next hit of light. Then there are the mosquitoes which just love biting everyone as much as they can, as if they are saying “Ha-ha, you’ve gone camping!”. Spiders and stag beetles roam the site, kicking lumps out of anyone they see. Wearing knuckle dusters and smoking any dropped cigarettes, they’ll pounce when you least expect it, shouting, “Wanker!” at you as they launch their attack.

 

9)  The tent itself is one of the most annoying things about camping. Putting the thing together in the first place is akin to a challenge you’d find on The Krypton Factor. Again, arguments will ensue, normally about which piece of the frame goes where. There is a high chance that at least one peg will be missing, so the tent will have to be weighed down from the inside. I am also under the impression that the manufacturers base their tent sizes on dwarves. ‘Two man’ tents are only really suitable for a child, a six-man tent can fit 3 people at a push; you get the idea with that one. Then there is the sweaty condensation that forms on the inside of the tent, so that it clings to you should you be so brave to put your face anywhere near it. The zips are so loud; some are known to be louder than a Boeing 747 taking off. Tents are rubbish. I’d rather sleep in my car.

 

10) The air of depression in the car on the way home, once the camping trip is over. It’s the realisation that you’ve wasted a few days of your life to live outside. All your clothes are dirty and wet, and you have to take all of your rubbish (which by now smells a great deal) back home with you. Why did you go camping? Why?!

 

People always tell me, ‘camping isn’t like that anymore, they have showers and everything!’. Well I should fucking think so! A shower is the minimum I’d expect if I was going on holiday. The absolute minimum! Plus, surely staying on a campsite is the cheats way to camping? Any excuse for them to say that they’ve been on holiday really, but it’s not proper camping. It’s not too dissimilar from me pitching a tent in my back garden, and then nipping inside to use the shower every morning.

 

I just don’t know what the big appeal is about the ‘Great’ Outdoors. I think maybe it stems from the youthful enjoyment of building a den with your mates, and pretending you were on some sort of great adventure. There can’t be any other reason for it. Sometimes, I do have a guilty admiration for those people that enjoy camping, but then this admiration soon passes and I think to myself, ‘Grow up and have a proper holiday’.

 

I hate camping.

IKEA – Why I hate it

11 Aug

One of the worst phrases that a man can hear in his lifetime is ‘Shall we go to IKEA this weekend?’ It’s up there with those other dreaded expressions such as ‘Time at the bar please’, ‘She lied about being 16’ and ‘You’ve got a terminal illness’.

 IKEA is a monumental waste of time and energy; an endless warren of paths and passageways leading the customer on a merry meander through the store. Once you’ve stepped inside, you can’t turn back. No, this is against the rules. You must follow the arrows that have been painted onto the floors until you reach the exit; but the exit never comes. Ok, it does, but only after at least a 3 hour rove through the narrow corridors, which only to widen so that they can fit in an example bedroom or a basket of 1000 cushions in front of your path. If you do make an attempt at turning back, you are soon ushered forward again by the brain-dead IKEA lovers who mope through the endless trails like cattle heading for slaughter.

 The choice on offer at IKEA is vast, but only a handful of any particular type of product is worth having. For every 300 shelving solutions on offer, only 1 would suit your home, but as luck would have it, you don’t really like it anyway. Then you’ve got the problem that if you do like it, you can’t fit it in your car to take home with you. FUCKSOCKS!

The only solution here, or for anyone who doesn’t like the crowds, is to use the IKEA website. Now this in itself is a much more enjoyable experience; no crowds, no getting tempted to buy things you don’t need and you can leave at any time. But this is where IKEA lulls you into a false sense of security.  Everything seems to be going smoothly and then, ‘WHAT IN SHITCOCKS NAME? IT’S £35 TO DELIVER A POXY LAMPSHADE?!’

 You see IKEA charge £35 delivery per order. It doesn’t matter how little or how much you order, you will always pay £35. Now this wouldn’t be too bad if you love decking your home out with IKEA sofas, wall units and beds, but if you just want to order a cutlery set, you still have to pay £35. It’s almost enough to make you go back and face the monotony of the place and the brain-dead public. Almost, but not quite, because when shopping at home you still have the luxury of being able to eat and drink when and what you like. In IKEA, they reward your impressive conquering of its many alleyways with a choice of either meatballs or an all day breakfast. Yum yum; food for all the family. I know some people that have actually gone to IKEA just for the meatballs. Why? Why do they do it? Are they insane? The meatballs have the texture of a dog’s testicle and taste worse (probably).

 I feel sorry for any man who is dragged to IKEA by his other half on a weekend. My thoughts go out to you, they really do. Is there anything worse? Josef Fritzl’s daughter will probably wish she was still hidden away once she visits IKEA. In fact it wouldn’t surprise me if IKEA release a ‘build-your-own-private basement’ package on the back of Fritzl’s ‘success’.  Other items I would suggest for their range include:

 –  The Anne Frank Storage Cupboard. A fantastic flat pack product that you can fit into the smallest of spaces, turning a previously unused space into a perfect storage solution.

 –  The Homo Pillow. A plumper, comfier pillow, built for durability for those that like to bite them.

 –   Michael Jackson Laminate Flooring. Perfect for moonwalking on, or for wiping up any, erm, mess

–    The Lenny Henry Mattress. Reinforced on one side in case you have a preference for fat birds.

I advise anyone to heed my advice. Give IKEA a wide berth, if your missus will let you…

10 reasons why I hate shopping

22 May

Doing a weekly food shop is a pet hate of mine. There are so many things to get wound up about:

1) When people stand in front of the products I’m trying to get to and don’t bother moving out of the way, even though they can tell I need to get to the shelf. This infuriates me. Part of me wants to scream ‘MOVE, KNOBHEAD’, whereas the other part of me just wants to pick up a jam jar and caress their face with it. However, I’ve found the best thing to in this situation is to put both of your hands in your trouser pockets, jiggle them furiously, whilst making eye contact with the inconsiderate fool in front of you. This guarantees results, everytime.

2) People that eat stuff on the way round and then pay for the empty packet. Can’t they wait a few minutes until they’re outside? Better still; drop the empty packet on the floor.

3) The amount of people that follow the person who reduces prices around. So strange. ‘Yummy, a mouldy radish and a 25p slice of ham for dinner; bargain!’ They make me sick.

4) There is always something that I require out of stock, so I either have to wait for a couple of days to go back to the same supermarket, or drive elsewhere. Twice the pain.

5) People with bad trolley etiquette. You know the ones. They leave their trolley and go swanning off to get something else, but they leave the trolley sat in front of a popular shelf, such as the milk. I put random items in the trolleys of people that do this. I recommend cucumbers and Vaseline, if you’re thinking of giving this a go.

6) The fact that some people will walk up and down the aisle in front of the checkouts for about 10 minutes, waiting for one where they can get served immediately, when they could have just queued up and waited patiently and would have probably have been served by the time an empty checkout arrives.

7) Miserable checkout staff. Now, I know that I’d probably be as miserable as sin if I had to do their job, but if they hate it so much, then why don’t they leave? Most of them greet you with a forced and mumbled ‘Good Afternoon’, to which I usually reply, ‘Yes thanks, well, better than yours I imagine’. If they’re going to serve me looking like I’ve just inserted their nose into my sphincter, then I will rub salt into their gaping wounds. Also, I never let them help me with my bagging, because none of them have seemed to grasp the ‘double-bagging’ rule for heavy items.

8.) Old boys that plod around shops (with their wives) with their arms behind their backs, like some sort of military sergeant, inspecting the place.

9) The parking is always a nightmare. You’re looking for a parking space but there doesn’t seem to be one available. What’s this? Someone’s leaving – look; they’re loading their shopping into their car! Just wait here until they finish…. That’s it little shopper man, take your trolley to the trolley bay and then get back in your car…. What are you doing? Why aren’t you moving? …The reverse lights should come on in a bit and I’ll get in your space – It’s busy, there aren’t any others around. HURRY UP YOU FUCKING COCKSPANNER! WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THERE? READING? FUCKING READING?! FOOORRRRGODDDDSAAAAAKKEEE! ARRGGHHH!
Also, I think that if the disabled spaces weren’t so close to the front of the store, people would be less inclined to park in them.

10) The trolleys that you have to ‘rent’ for £1. I never have a pound coin on me so I have to walk to a cash point, withdraw £10, go into the store, buy something pointless and get the change.Why do they bother? I know people steal trolleys, but in my opinion it would be even better to say to a mate,

“Do you like my trolley?”

“Yeah, it’s alright”

“Guess how much it cost me?”

“Go on”

“One pound! Fucking result!”

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